#nct smut

[https-lvesick]

RUNAWAY BRIDE ★ huang renjun

summary . . ♡ Just weeks before your wedding, doubts begin to creep in, and on the big day, you panic and make a break for it. Desperate and still in your bridal gown, you flag down a passing car driven by a friendly stranger. He offers to take you to safety, but what starts as a temporary stop turns into something much more. As you hide from the life you left behind, feelings grow, and the lovely stranger finds he doesn’t want you to leave.

pairing . . ♡ renjun x rich girl!reader

word count . . ♡ 23k

genre . . ♡ fluff, angst, smut, strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight

content . . ♡ family issues, renjun is downbad since day one, reader used to be a good girl, but now she's a big girl, mentions of jeno x reader (briefly), minhyuk and hajoon are assholes the whole time, jealous renjun, other nct members and idols make appearance.

smut content . . ♡ a lot of kissing, unprotected sex, masturbation (both), fingering, cum eating, cunnilingus, humping, fellatio, reader compares renjun with minhyuk but in a good way, (mentions of) multiple rounds.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for the thousandth time. Your eyes traced every detail—the flawless hairstyle, the delicate diamond tiara, the long white dress with intricate lace sleeves, and the impeccable makeup. Pride swelled within you for reaching this milestone, for taking the first step in building your future family. But why? Why did you feel so heavy with dread? Why did every thought of a future with your fiancé fill you with unease instead of joy?

The door creaked open, and one of your bridesmaids—your best friend—entered the room. Her radiant smile was contagious, filled with pride and warmth. It almost made you believe in the illusion of a blissful future. Because this was the right thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

"Here’s your bouquet..." she said, placing the bundle of crimson roses in your hands. Red roses, the ultimate symbol of love, carefully adorned with tiny diamonds nestled between the blooms. Joy beamed with excitement, far more emotional than you felt. Her eyes drifted to your trembling hands, interpreting it as a case of perfectly reasonable wedding jitters.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking your hands in hers. You inhaled deeply, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"Nervous," you admitted with a weak, insincere smile. Everything about this moment felt like a facade. "My heart’s racing faster than one of Sung’s monologues."

She chuckled, and for a fleeting second, the tension eased. Was the rapid beat of your heart merely pre-wedding anxiety? Or was it doubt?

"That’s perfectly normal," Joy reassured, her tone as light as if describing a fairytale. "I felt exactly the same on my wedding day. Trust me, the nerves disappear the moment you say ‘I do’ and seal it with a kiss."

For her, this was magic. It was supposed to be for you, too. You had always dreamed of this moment—finding the perfect man, getting married, building a life together, a house filled with love, children, the happiness you grew up surrounded by. You had always wanted to create that for yourself.

While Joy hums your favorite song, her voice light and soothing as she glides—almost dances—around the room, tidying up stray objects, you glance at the mirror once more. A deep breath fills your lungs as you close your eyes, trying to conjure a vision of a happy future with Minhyuk. But it’s the same as before: not the image of a fulfilled life, but of an unhappy woman trapped in her own story. Now, though, even that vision is gone. It’s as if... there is nothing after the ‘I do.’

Your eyes flutter open. Joy, still twirling around the room with a smile on her face, sings in that melodic voice that always brings you peace. You stare at your reflection again, knowing there’s still a chance—one fleeting chance—to make the right choice.

"Joy?" you call softly. Her attention snaps to you instantly, her warmth as comforting as always. "Could you get me some water? I think these nerves are really getting to me..." Your voice trembles just enough, sounding perfectly fragile—exactly like the version of yourself everyone expects. Joy giggles at your tone, unaware of anything unusual.

"Of course," she says cheerfully, excusing herself before slipping out the door.

You draw another deep breath, your heart thudding in your chest.

Better to regret doing too much than to regret doing nothing at all.

The words echo in your mind as you pull off your heels and set them aside. You remove the diamond tiara, placing it on the chair with care. Then, with your pulse racing, you open the door that leads to the garden where the celebration waits.

The moment your bare feet touch the grass, you run.

You run as fast as you can, ignoring the weight of the dress pulling you down, ignoring the stinging thoughts of what people will think, ignoring the consequences that tomorrow will bring. All that matters is getting out—escaping the cage before it locks you in forever.

When Joy returns to find the door ajar, the tiara and heels abandoned, the crystal glass slips from her fingers, shattering on the floor. Fear flashes across her face—fear of the uproar your family will unleash when they realize what’s happened. But she doesn’t chase after you. She lets you go.

"I hope you know what you’re doing..." Joy whispers to herself. She laughs in disbelief, shaking her head. She waits a moment, giving herself just enough time before putting on the perfect mask of panic for when the news breaks—the bride is gone.

It takes longer than you'd like to escape the mansion grounds, and even longer before anyone realizes the bride is missing. Minhyuk stands in stunned silence at first, refusing to believe it’s true. Then anger overtakes him, his fury mirrored by your father, whose mind is already racing with ways to punish you for disgracing the family.

When you finally reach the street, your legs burn and your lungs ache. You stop to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest, knowing that by now, everyone is searching for you. The security team must already be mobilized. Finding you will be easy—too easy. After all, a bride running through the streets of Los Angeles isn’t exactly inconspicuous.

You take off again, pushing your legs to move faster, weaving through traffic, not waiting for the light to turn. The inevitable happens—a car screeches to a halt, clipping your side just enough to send you stumbling. The driver’s face is as terrified as yours.

“Help me,” you murmur, voice trembling as your eyes lock with his.

For a moment, he hesitates, his eyes darting between you and the road as horns blare and angry drivers shout behind him. His decision comes fast.

"Get in!" he shouts, leaning out of the window.

Without thinking, you yank open the door of the white car and slide into the back seat. The man wastes no time—the car surges forward as he presses the gas.

You finally exhale, eyes closing as a rush of emotions floods you. Tears begin to fall, quiet and unstoppable. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but your mind clears just enough to fill with the images you’ve been running from—the glares of your parents, the disappointment of your former in-laws, the fury in Minhyuk’s eyes, and even the hurt expression of your brother.

You might be disowned. You might be cast out and cut off from your family forever.

But you refused to surrender your life to anyone else’s plans.

“Miss?” you hear the man call softly. Your eyes flutter open, and for a brief second, you meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. Then, you catch sight of your own reflection—your makeup mostly intact, though streaked with tears. You wipe them away with trembling hands, but they keep falling.

“Yes?” you respond, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes linger on you, filled with concern.

“Do you have somewhere I can take you?”

You pause, thinking. A hotel is out of the question—you have no money on you. Going back home is impossible—it’s ground zero for everyone you’re running from. And all of your friends? They’re at the wedding.

“No…” you mumble, shame creeping into your voice. Your eyes drop to your lap, fingers fidgeting nervously. “Just… please, get me far away from here. Anywhere. I’ll figure it out.”

You can feel his pity, an emotion so palpable it wraps around you like a heavy blanket. You don’t want to meet his gaze again—you already know what’s written in it. But how could you blame him? How could anyone leave a distraught woman in a wedding dress stranded in the middle of nowhere?

He sighs quietly, his voice careful but resolute. “Alright. How about this—I’ll take you to my place. You can shower, calm down, and maybe… call someone. Does that sound okay?”

Relief washes over you, and with no better options in mind, you nod. “Okay.”

He glances at you in the mirror again, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Renjun, by the way.”

Despite everything, you manage a weak smile in return. “I’m…” You introduce yourself, your name feeling strange on your tongue, like a part of a life you just left behind.

The thought of making that call, of confronting the fallout from your grand escape, churns your stomach. But you push it aside. You can’t afford to think about it now. Instead, you stay quiet, unsure if Renjun wants to talk. You clutch your hands tightly together, focusing on the blur of the city outside, each passing streetlight pulling you further from a life you no longer wanted.

The drive felt agonizingly slow, each second stretching like an eternity. The upbeat song playing on the radio only made the suffocating tension worse. Renjun tried changing the station a few times, but nothing seemed to fit the mood, so he turned it off altogether—which only made the silence heavier. He wrestled with indecision, unsure whether to break the quiet and attempt a conversation to ease your discomfort or leave you alone with your tears. Never in his life did he imagine finding himself in this situation: a bride in distress, heartbroken and crying, in the backseat of his car.

As his car turned into a quiet suburban street, your teary gaze lifted. You took in the picturesque neighborhood with wide eyes. The houses stood in perfect uniformity, a row of identical designs—slate-gray siding, black-shingled roofs, and bright white doors and windows. It was nothing like what you were used to. The garage door opened with a soft hum, and Renjun pulled into the driveway, parking with precision.

“We’re here,” he said gently, turning the key to cut the engine. His eyes flicked back to you. “Shall we?”

You nodded, wordlessly stepping out of the car, feeling the cool pavement under your bare feet as you followed him inside.

With every step into his house, a sharp pain flared in your left foot. You ignored it. After all, you had just sprinted a marathon barefoot to escape a nightmare.

The scent of clean linen and fresh pine filled the air, wrapping you in an unexpected calm. The place was spotless, impeccably organized—a serene contrast to the storm inside you.

“I’ll grab something for you to wear,” Renjun offered kindly. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. You sat on the pale, plush sofa, your feet dangling as you swayed them back and forth. But as the stillness settled over you once more, the weight of everything returned. The tears you had momentarily paused came rushing back, and the sorrow sat heavy in your chest, pressing down like an unforgiving hand.

Back at the mansion where the wedding was supposed to take place, chaos reigned. Tension hung thick in the air as your father stormed through the grand hall, his fury palpable. The rest of your family shared in his anger, but your brother remained the calmest, quietly observing the fallout. Your friends stood uncertain, hopeful that there might be a rational explanation for your sudden disappearance.

The guests had long departed, murmuring whispers of scandal and speculation as they left. Even Minhyuk and his family were gone, their pride wounded. Your phone had rung incessantly until one of your bridesmaids, Arin, noticed it—along with all your personal belongings—left behind in the bridal suite. The search for you began in earnest: through the garden, under the canopy of the gazebo, even into the winding hedges of the labyrinth. But there was no trace of you. Frustrated, your father ordered the security team to comb the streets.

“I will not rest until that ungrateful girl is back in this house!” he roared, his face red with rage as he shoved aside anyone offering comfort.

“Dad, blowing up like this isn’t going to help anything,” your brother Jungwoo said, folding his arms with a resigned sigh. He had seen this spectacle before and was already half out the door.

“If you’re not going to help, Jungwoo, then leave,” their father snapped, gesturing dismissively.

“As if I haven’t thought of that already,” Jungwoo muttered under his breath. Turning to face him fully, he added, “And don’t bother calling the police. She wasn’t kidnapped. She’s a grown woman making her own choices. The police won’t do anything about it.” He walked out, his steps steady, leaving behind a trail of truth no one wanted to hear.

“Uncle Kim, maybe you should sit down, take a breath, and think things through before making any rash decisions,” Joy ventured gently, her hands raised in a placating gesture.

Her words were met with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “And you, Sooyoung,” he spat, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “aren’t you supposed to be her best friend? Why don’t you know where she is? Or are you hiding her from us?”

“Of course not!” Joy retorted, her eyes flashing with defiance. “And you know what? Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you!” She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. Her voice grew stronger, her conviction unshakable. “If she ran, it’s because she was unhappy with this whole charade of a wedding. I stand with her.” Without waiting for a response, she stormed out.

The silence left in her wake simmered with rage. In one swift, furious motion, Kim Hajoon seized a large vase of flowers and hurled it to the floor, the porcelain shattering into jagged fragments. “When I find that girl…” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “She will be punished for disgracing this family.”

You had already taken a bath. The clothes Renjun lent you fit perfectly—a pair of black sweatpants that hugged you comfortably and a loose yellow T-shirt sporting the logo of a band you didn’t recognize. He had even provided a pair of slippers, slightly oversized but perfectly serviceable. During your shower, you discovered a shallow cut on your left foot from a shard of glass. Fortunately, a quick rummage through the bathroom drawers revealed tweezers, allowing you to carefully remove the fragments. The injury made walking painful, causing you to limp as you descended the stairs, using the walls and furniture for support.

In the living room, Renjun sat on the sofa, eyes focused on a movie playing on the TV. He seemed to be waiting for you. Two glass mugs rested on the coffee table, the rising steam hinting at freshly brewed tea. When he noticed your presence, his face lit up with a warm smile.

“I see the clothes fit.” His brows furrowed as he took in your posture, leaning heavily against the wall. “Did something happen?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “I mean… aside from… well, you know…”

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” You interrupted his fumbling words before he could tie himself into further knots.

“Uh… wait a second!” Renjun shot up and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a small white medical kit. He placed it on the coffee table, and when he saw you hobbling toward the couch, he quickly came to your side.

He wrapped one arm around you, his other hand lightly supporting the small of your back as he guided you to sit down effortlessly.

“What happened?” he asked as he settled beside you.

You lifted your leg, resting your ankle on your other knee. Gently peeling away a makeshift paper bandage, you revealed the small wound. “Glass cut. Guess running around barefoot isn’t the best idea…” you remarked with a soft laugh, prompting a smile from him.

“Were there shards?” Renjun opened the kit, pulling out gauze, antiseptic, and iodine. He was already puzzling over why you hadn’t mentioned the injury sooner—perhaps you hadn’t realized at first.

“There were, but I got them out. I cleaned your tweezers properly, I promise! They’re back where I found them.”

He chuckled, brushing the concern aside.

“All right. May I?” He gestured toward your foot, waiting for permission.

You nodded shyly and adjusted your posture, resting your foot across his legs.

Renjun dampened a piece of gauze with antiseptic, handling your foot with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. The sting of the solution made you hiss softly, drawing air between your teeth. He glanced at your expression, careful to remain as gentle as possible. After thoroughly cleaning the cut, he applied the iodine and secured a fresh gauze with adhesive tape.

“There we go,” he said, his tone light and reassuring. “Take it easy, okay? No more wandering the streets barefoot.” He closed the kit and set it aside. “I made tea for us. Hope… it’s to your taste…” His voice softened as he handed you a warm mug.

You accepted it with a grateful smile. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect. Thank you, Renjun.” You took a tentative sip, inhaling the aromatic steam. It wasn’t exactly your favorite flavor, but knowing the care behind it made it sweeter.

Your gaze began to drift across the room. Every detail—from the cozy furniture to the tasteful decor, the paintings, and even the muted tones of the walls—spoke of simplicity and warmth. It was all so different from the lavish grandeur you had grown up with. Renjun caught your curious exploration.

“Like the decor?” he asked, a playful lilt in his voice.

Your eyes widened, startled, as if you’d been caught peeking into a forbidden room.

“Uh, yes,” you murmured, taking another sip of tea to hide your embarrassment. “It’s beautiful. Different from what I’m used to…”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. You immediately regretted your words, worried they had sounded snobbish. You rushed to clarify, stumbling over your explanation.

“A good kind of different! It’s… lovely, really!”

Renjun burst into laughter, his eyes crinkling with delight as his head tipped back. His laughter filled the room, infectious and genuine. He nearly dropped his mug but recovered just in time. The sound of it, so full of life, made your heart flutter.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, wiping away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “But now you’ve got me curious. What’s so different? Do you live in a castle or something?”

His teasing tone made you smile, the tension melting away like morning fog.

“Almost… it was a mansion.” You used the past tense without thinking. You weren’t sure if you’d still be living there, but honestly, it wasn’t as though you wanted to. “It had two floors and covered… about six of your houses in size…” You let the memory linger for a moment. “The décor was extravagant. My mother always loved flaunting the family’s wealth. She made a smart choice marrying my father.”

Renjun took a small sip of tea, his fingers lightly brushing the warm glass. “Well, my humble little house definitely doesn’t compete with… that.” His voice carried a faint laugh, but his eyes flicked downward. Embarrassment? Insecurity? Even he didn’t quite know.

“Please, don’t think I’m bragging or rubbing it in,” you said quickly, your words tripping over themselves. “It’s just… I don’t even like it. All that luxury… it’s too much to look at, too much to keep up with, and in the end, none of it really matters. It’s all just… stuff.”

He murmured agreement, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, you have a point.”

With the conversation trailing off, your attention returned to the TV. You weren’t sure what movie was playing, couldn’t tell who the characters were or what the plot was about. But you kept your eyes fixed on the screen, pretending you were following along. Renjun finished his tea first, setting his mug on the table. You did the same soon after, inhaling deeply as you placed it down.

“Feeling better?” he asked, stretching out to grab his phone from the side table.

You rubbed your palms nervously over your thighs, nodding.

“Do you want to call a friend? Or family?”

Your heart skipped. A rush of panic swelled in your chest, making your breath come shallow and quick. You didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Here, in this small, cozy space, you felt safe—a world away from the consequences waiting for you outside. The mere thought of facing your parents made your skin crawl, the weight of their judgment already pressing on your shoulders.

He noticed your change in demeanor immediately. His eyes darkened with concern as he set his phone down. Leaning toward you, his hand found the small of your back while the other wrapped gently around your trembling fingers.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly. “You don’t have to do anything right now. You’re not being forced. I’m not going to pressure you. Not at all.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the tears burning behind your eyes. You had to say it. You had to ask.

“I can’t go home, Renjun.”

He stiffened at the desperation in your voice, the way your words trembled on the edge of breaking.

“Why? What happened?” His eyes searched yours, wide and worried. “Do you need the police? Is that why you ran from your wedding?”

The shock on your face was answer enough. You shook your head fervently, gripping his hand tighter.

“No, no, no police, please,” you whispered. “I’ve already made enough trouble. I don’t want more.” You lowered your head, your voice growing small, fragile. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He watched you in silence, trying to piece together your story, to understand the fear etched into every word.

“Then…” He paused, hesitant but sincere. “Stay the night. You’re welcome here. But you need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

His eyes held nothing but kindness, a warmth that radiated safety and trust. How could you not believe in someone who carried protection in every glance, in every gentle movement?

You hesitated, the words locked behind a wall of doubt. Could you really open up? Could you share what had brought you to this moment? You knew once you began, you wouldn’t be able to stop. But wasn’t that the least you owed him?

Sitting in his home, seeking refuge under his roof, didn’t he deserve to know?

You took a deep breath, still hoping—just maybe—that trusting a stranger could be the right thing after all.

There, you told him everything. From the very beginning of your relationship with Minhyuk to the complicated dynamics with your parents. You explained how, ever since your father learned that your ex-fiancé's family wanted to partner with his company, the engagement—and eventual wedding—felt more like a business deal than a union of love. The pressure to marry had crushed the affection you once felt. You also shared how, despite your parents being loving, they valued the family’s public image above all else. To outsiders, you were the picture-perfect family, even if you and your brother Jungwoo avoided media attention. You feared what facing them now would mean. After all, you had dishonored them, and the news had likely already hit the headlines.

After all, it wasn’t just any wedding that collapsed. It was a high-profile merger between two of the most powerful families across Asia and North America. Walking away from Minhyuk at the altar would surely be seen as more than a scandal—it would be a public humiliation and the collapse of a strategic alliance.

Renjun listened intently, his expression never wavering from one of understanding. He offered his home for as long as you needed, reassuring you that there was no rush to face your parents until you were ready. To break the tension that had thickened the air, he proposed a change of subject—something lighter.

“How about we get to know each other a little more?” he suggested with a smile. “Since we’ll be under the same roof for who knows how long.”

The hours melted away as you both shared pieces of your lives.

You learned he worked as a bridal gown designer for a renowned fashion house, dressing celebrities and socialites. His eyes sparkled with pride as he scrolled through pictures of his creations on his phone, and you fell in love with each one.

“When I get married… for real this time…” You laughed, your cheeks warming with a mix of nerves and humor. “Can I wear one of your dresses?”

“It would be an honor to dress you, Miss Kim,” he teased, bowing like a courtly gentleman presenting himself to royalty.

You also learned he was eager to adopt a dog, ever since falling in love with Daegal, a friend’s fluffy white puppy. Speaking of friends, he warned you that they would be visiting tomorrow.

The conversation meandered into trivial, delightful corners—how you both liked your eggs in the morning, and which way the toilet paper should hang (an intense debate you both thoroughly enjoyed). By the time the night stretched into the early morning, you found a friend in Renjun.

Somewhere between the stories and the laughter, sleep claimed you both. You woke hours later, still on opposite sides of the couch.

A delicious aroma drifted into the room, stirring you. Blinking, you took in the faint morning light seeping through curtains drawn closed for your comfort. Stretching, you inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of breakfast. You rubbed your eyes and rose to your feet, following the inviting smell into the kitchen.

Stopping in the doorway, you watched your new friend setting the table, carefully arranging two plates and pouring juice into glasses.

He noticed you immediately and broke into a grin. “Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “I set up the guest room for you. Fresh sheets, stocked the bathroom, even put a new toothbrush there.” He gestured at the plates. “Now, go wash your face, or I’m eating without you!”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

“Good morning, Renjun,” you said with warmth before turning away, a rare calm settling over you.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

At their parents' home, Jungwoo had come to check in on them. His father, as expected, was as implacable as ever. He hadn't even offered a polite good morning—just the same grim scowl that seemed carved into his face. His mother, on the other hand, at least acknowledged him with a nod. Though her fury matched her husband’s, she knew there was no point in unleashing it on her son.

“Have you heard from her, my son?” Katherine asked, dabbing at her mouth with a linen napkin.

“No, Mother. I came to see how you’re holding up. I don’t have any news.” He reached across the table, his hand covering hers as he traced small, soothing circles with his thumb. “But I would like to talk about what happened…” His words hung cautiously in the air. He knew this was treacherous ground—too soon, too raw. And if the news wasn’t already plastered across every major outlet, it was only a matter of time before it flooded every screen and headline.

“What’s there to talk about, Jungwoo?” His father’s voice sliced through the room, hard and cold. “You’ve made your choice. You sided with your sister—the irresponsible, selfish girl that she is.”

“What side, dad?” Jungwoo shot back, meeting his father’s tone head-on. “There are no sides. We’re a family!”

“A family?” Hajoon stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor as he towered over his son. His eyes burned with rage. “She is not my family. That girl had everything. I gave her everything, and how does she repay me? She destroyed it all, Jungwoo! She is the shame of this family!”

Jungwoo rose to meet his father’s glare, his own anger boiling just beneath the surface. “And what will you do? Disown her? Cast her out because she didn’t follow your script?” His voice sharpened like steel. “Don’t forget, everything you gave her was your choice. You had children because you wanted to. Don’t act as if she owes you her life for that, Kim Hajoon.”

Between them stood Katherine. She remained seated, her eyes shifting between husband and son. Despite her own anger, the woman could not ignore the fierce pull of her maternal heart. Her daughter was still her child, a piece of her soul—a part of her that she could never abandon.

“Watch your tone, boy,” Hajoon growled, his voice rising to a full roar. “I am your father! And yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. When you find your sister, you tell her she’s no longer part of this family.”

Jungwoo’s lips curled into a bitter smile. His next words came slowly, each syllable dripping with disdain. “Then be my guest. You don’t have children anymore.” He took a step back, chest heaving. “Find yourself another heir to fill your shoes when you’re gone. Maybe Minhyuk—your perfect son-in-law—can step in.”

He turned away, his steps heavy with hurt and defiance. He felt his father’s furious gaze searing into his back, but he didn’t look back.

“Get out of my house!” Hajoon bellowed after him, his voice thundering like a storm.

Jungwoo kept walking. The words, no matter how harsh or cutting, could not pierce the armor of truth he carried within him. Yet, deep down, each cruel utterance still weighed on his heart.

Because no matter how righteous the fight, no matter how strong his resolve, nothing cut quite as deeply as hearing those words from his own father.

“I’m here to collect my sister’s belongings,” Jungwoo said, his voice cold and clipped. “Don’t worry, Hajoon. Just documents—what she’s entitled to. Rest assured, when she comes back, I won’t let you lay so much as a finger on her.”

With that, he turned and strode toward the staircase, urgency propelling him forward. He didn’t need much—only her phone and papers—but the weight of his father’s presence made each step feel heavier.

Behind him, Katherine watched her son disappear up the stairs before fixing her gaze on her husband.

“You didn’t mean a word of that,” she said, her voice a knife hidden in silk.

“I did,” Hajoon snapped, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you didn’t.” Her eyes darkened with resolve. “Hajoon, let me make one thing crystal clear—if any harm comes to our children because of one of your outbursts, I swear I’ll destroy you.”

The silence that followed was as sharp as broken glass. She wasn’t bluffing. He knew Katherine’s word was as unyielding as steel.

Moments later, Jungwoo descended the stairs, a small bag in hand. His jaw was set, his eyes stormy as he marched past his parents.

“Jungwoo—”

Her hand reached for his arm, a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving.

“Let me go, mom.”

“Please, my son—”

“Let me go,” he repeated, firmer this time, his patience fraying at the edges.

Reluctantly, her fingers loosened. She stood in silence as he walked out the front door without a backward glance. No goodbye. No hesitation.

Outside, the cool air bit at his skin. Jungwoo crossed the street to where his car waited, pulling out his phone and scrolling for a familiar number.

When Joy answered, he didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Any news?”

“None,” she sighed.

“When she reaches out,” he said, his tone sharp with urgency, “don’t let her go home. Don’t let her call them—don’t even think about letting her contact our parents. I don’t care if she avoids me too, just let me know she’s safe. I’m bringing her things over. You’ll probably be the first person she tries to find.”

Before she could respond, he ended the call, gripping the phone tightly in his hand.

He slumped against the steering wheel, his breath heavy with frustration.

I hope you know what you’re doing, little sister…

After breakfast, Renjun stretched his arms, gathering the dishes to take them to the sink.

“I’m heading to the market,” he announced, turning on the faucet as water began to flow over the plates. “I need to grab a few things and get ready for my friends coming over later.”

You sat silently for a moment, your fingers absentmindedly rubbing your palms together.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” He glanced over his shoulder, water running between his fingers as he scrubbed a dish.

“I’m sure.” Rising to your feet, you picked up a dish towel and began drying the plates as he handed them over. “I don’t want to risk being seen.”

Renjun shrugged, exhaling softly in understanding. The silence that followed was calm, broken only by the steady sound of water and the gentle swipes of fabric against ceramic.

“I…” Your voice faltered, hesitant. “I think I want to call Joy.”

He raised an eyebrow, curious but patient.

“Or maybe not,” you added quickly, averting your gaze. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

He turned off the faucet and leaned back against the sink, watching you. “Your best friend?” When you nodded, his lips curved into a small smile. “Of course it matters. You should call her. Even if it’s just to let her know you’re safe… and maybe to find out what’s going on with your family. It might help.”

Your teeth worried your lower lip as you hesitated.

“You don’t have to tell her everything,” he continued. “Just enough.”

Your heartbeat quickened. It’s only Joy, you told yourself. She’s your best friend.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself. “Alright…”

“Great.” He handed you his phone with an easy grin. “Use mine. The passcode is 2303.”

He started to leave but paused at the doorway, glancing back with a playful wink. “I’m just going to change clothes. Holler if you need anything.”

Alone with the phone in your hand, you stared at it as if it carried a weight far beyond its physical form. Why? Why this hesitation to reach out to the one person who always had your back?

Just breathe.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you keyed in the passcode.

Moments later, the dial tone buzzed in your ear. You held your breath, the world shrinking to this single connection, until…

“Hello?”

The tension in your chest melted at the familiar voice, and a smile crept onto your face before you realized it.

“Joy.”

Relief poured into your words.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” Her voice burst with a mix of panic and joy. “Where have you been? Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you staying with someone? In a hotel? Do you even know what’s happening out here?”

Her rapid-fire questions shot out like arrows, sharp with urgency, but each one wrapped around you like a warm embrace—reassuring, grounding, reminding you that you had a refuge in her.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you no longer felt alone.

“Joy, I’m fine. I’m safe, staying at a… friend’s place. He’s taking good care of me, so don’t worry.” You hear her let out a heavy sigh of relief before you continue. “I called just to let you know I’m okay and, well… to find out how things are going over there.”

There’s a pause on her end, a hesitation that tells you everything you need to know: things aren’t going well. Which, honestly, was to be expected after yesterday’s spectacle.

“Your dad’s absolutely furious, but I’m sure you figured that out already,” Joy says, her voice lowering into a somber murmur. You hum in acknowledgment, anxiety building in your chest. “Jungwoo had it out with him. Told him they weren’t even part of the same family anymore.”

Your eyes widen. What? Jungwoo fought with dad? What does your brother have to do with this?

“I didn’t get all the details since he didn’t explain much, but…”

You barely catch her words as you notice Renjun descending the stairs. You murmur, “Hold on a sec, Joy,” then turn your attention to him.

“You’re talking to your friend?” he asks with a smile, and you nod, unable to stop a small grin from forming despite the tense conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Well… I won’t be too long. I should be back in about 40 minutes, give or take, depending on lines and traffic. Do you want anything from the market? Ask for anything you like!” His warm smile makes you feel at ease.

“Could you get some granola bars? I love snacking on those…” You ask timidly, feeling a bit shy about requesting something. But honestly, with everything going on, they’ve become your comfort food.

“Of course, silly.” You smile, telling him your favorite flavors and thanking him before he heads out.

When you return to the phone, Joy’s teasing voice immediately greets you.

“So… is he cute? That voice of his sounded dreamy.”

You nearly choke. Coughing a few times, you hear her giggle on the other end.

“Joy! That’s not something you ask!”

“Oh, come on! Just because you ran from a wedding doesn’t mean you can’t notice a handsome guy. So? Spill. Is he hot?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Um… yeah, he’s pretty hot. And sweet! He’s honestly amazing, Joy,” you say, feeling warm as memories of the night before and this morning flood your mind. Renjun really was a gem. “But enough about him for now. Tell me what happened next!”

“Right, sorry!” Her tone shifts again. “Jungwoo came by earlier. He dropped off your documents, your phone, and a few clothes you left at his place. He knew you’d reach out to me first.”

You bite your lip, grateful for your brother’s intuition.

“But…” Her voice lowers, turning serious. “He said not to let you talk to your parents under any circumstances. Whatever’s going on, it’s bad. So please, don’t reach out to them until I figure out what’s really happening.”

Your stomach twists at her warning.

“Okay… If you find out more, tell me.” A thought occurs, and you add quickly, “Oh, and save this number! It’s Renjun’s phone—this is how we’ll keep in touch.”

“Got it,” she replies.

“And Minhyuk and his family… well, I haven’t heard much about them, but it’s safe to assume they’re just as furious as your father. Jooheon said Minhyuk didn’t say much after the wedding. He just left and hasn’t really kept in touch. He thinks Minhyuk is still processing everything, probably feeling disappointed. I just hope he doesn’t do anything stupid… You know how he can be—bitter and vengeful,” Joy says, her voice full of concern.

“Yeah… What I did to him was so unfair. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he retaliated. I even thought about talking to him, explaining what made me do it, but… I don’t have the courage.” You exhale a soft, humorless laugh.

“And that’s totally understandable. I’ll reach out to the guys, see if anyone knows how he’s doing, and I’ll keep you updated on whatever I find out, okay?” Sooyoung’s tone turns lighter. “But now, tell me more about this Renjun guy I’ve never heard of! Come on, spill!”

“Well, actually, I just met him yesterday while… running away. I almost got hit by his car.” You chuckle at the memory, even though it was a close call.

“You’re staying at a guy’s house you met yesterday? And he almost ran you over? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Her tone shifts from curious to stern. And she has every right to be concerned — what are you thinking, spending the night with a total stranger?

“Joy, I told you, it’s fine. He’s been nothing but kind to me. He didn’t push boundaries or make me feel uncomfortable. If he had, I wouldn’t still be here.” You try to justify your actions, but she scoffs in response.

“I still don’t like the sound of this,” she mutters.

The conversation flows from there, stretching into a good few minutes. You talk about everything — from the chaos of the wedding to what happened after your escape and your scattered thoughts about what comes next.

After more than half an hour on the call, you and Joy say your goodbyes. With nothing else to do, you decide to explore the house. Hopefully, there might be a task to keep you occupied until the Chinese boy returns. You get up, leaving your phone on the coffee table, and start with the living room console. There are a few picture frames there, each holding a photo.

You pick up the first one, which shows Renjun and a friend, seemingly on a climbing trip. The two are posing playfully on a massive rock, making you smile. You vividly recall what he told you about that day and how he recommended trying it—well, at least with someone experienced. The second frame holds a picture of him with three kittens, probably belonging to his friend. Two of the three fluffy white furballs are gazing at him adorably, as if mesmerized by the young man. The third frame contains a photo of him alone, with a brightly lit city at night as the backdrop. He’s leaning over what seems to be a bridge railing, wearing a brown trench coat and glasses, accompanied by that beautiful smile of his—the one that suits him so perfectly. You could swear that the first time you saw him smile, especially when he laughed, your world became a little more colorful.

You hear the sound of keys, and moments later, the door opens. Renjun steps in, carrying a few shopping bags. Instinctively, you go to meet him and help.

“Thanks. Wow, I think I took longer than I planned—jeez!” he complains, closing the door as the two of you head to the kitchen.

“Just a little…” you tease, glancing at the clock. The time he estimated had been exceeded by… about an hour and nine minutes.

“A guy’s car broke down in the middle of the avenue. A few of us had to help push it to the shoulder. That little adventure took about twenty minutes,” he explains, washing his hands at the sink. “Oh, and there were some new, unusual flavors of snack bars, so I got a few for you too. Hope you like them,” he adds shyly, glancing at the bags.

You offer him a sweet smile and a shy "thank you." He pulls the little boxes out of the bag, showing them to you. You examine each one with enthusiasm. Truly, you'd never seen them before—not even in advertisements. You felt happy that Renjun had thought about you and even happier knowing you’d get to try all those treats.

“I didn’t ask earlier—how’s your foot?” he asks, unloading the groceries and placing them on the counter.

“Oh, it’s fine. It still hurts a bit, and I definitely can’t put too much weight on it, but I think I’ll survive,” you joke with a smile.

“If you need me to clean it again, just let me know. The last thing I want is to have to take you to the hospital because your wound got infected, Miss Kim.” His shoulders drop slightly as he speaks. How is it that even his scolding sounds so gentle?

“Yes, Sir Huang!” you reply with a mock salute, making him laugh.

“How was your conversation with your friend?” he asks as you sit down on the stool with a sigh.

“The conversation was good, but the situation could be better…” He watches you with a worried expression, walking over and gently holding one of your hands. Your gaze drops to where your hands touch, and you can’t help but feel a warm, comforting sensation.

“What happened?” Renjun’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his eyes locked on your face. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose—making you feel this way. This sense of safety, of being cared for. He’s just so naturally good at it.

“Uh… Well… Joy said Jungwoo had a fight with our father, and apparently, they’re no longer on speaking terms… And about Minhyuk, she hasn’t heard from him. I think he’s still shaken, you know? Being left at the altar… I feel a little guilty about it. I mean, he was so good to me…” You sigh, memories of happy times with your ex-fiancé flooding your mind.

“But you didn’t feel the same anymore. And that’s okay. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that. He might be hurt, maybe even angry, but if he truly loves you, I’m sure he’ll give you the chance to explain why you did what you did,” Renjun says, his voice calm and reassuring. You give him a faint smile in response.

“Thank you, Renjun. I think I’ll go back tomorrow. I’ll talk to Joy, Jungwoo, and, of course, try to speak with Minhyuk,” you say. Renjun’s soft smile makes your heart race. Silly heart, why are you doing this? Calm down!

“That’s a good idea. Joy might have already told them you’re okay, but there’s nothing like hearing it directly from you, right?” he says with a playful tone. “If you don’t want to do it alone, I can go with you,” he offers.

You’re tempted to accept—partly out of fear, especially of facing your parents and the Lee family, but also because you’ve come to love Huang’s company. Still, none of this has anything to do with him. The messy family drama, the unresolved emotions, the impulsive decisions—none of it should affect Renjun, even though being with him is already a conflict in itself.

“No need, Renjun. I think it’ll be better if I handle this on my own…” you say. He nods, still gazing intently at you. You smile awkwardly, noticing he hasn’t realized he’s still caressing your hand. “So… what’s for lunch? Can I help you?” you ask, pulling your hand away quickly to change the subject.

Renjun seems to snap back to reality, blinking a few times and clearing his throat before returning to what he was doing. “Ah, yeah… I was thinking of making jjamppong. And, of course, you can help! Just don’t stand up—stay seated right there, exactly as you are,” he responds, a bit shy.

You comply, staying seated as you watch him. Renjun washes the vegetables and hands them to you to chop. As you prepare the meal together, you chat about various things, mostly his friends, who are coming to visit in a few hours. He shares bits about them, wanting you to feel comfortable around them.

“Renjun, how am I supposed to meet your friends looking like this?” you exclaim, gesturing at yourself as you turn to him. He chuckles at your reaction.

“What’s wrong? My clothes fit you perfectly. It’s like a feminine, much prettier version of me,” he jokes, letting the compliment slip naturally, leaving you flustered and shy.

“W-what’s wrong is, have you seen how I usually dress casually?” you ask, exasperated.

“Of course not. I just met you yesterday, and I’m pretty sure your casual wardrobe doesn’t include a wedding dress,” he teases, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you fuss.

“Nothing like an oversized men’s shirt or jersey shorts, seriously, Renjun?” you protest, trying to fix your hair at the very least.

He watches you, utterly captivated, a small smile lingering on his face. You had just come out of the shower, wearing his fresh clothes—a plain white shirt and gray jersey shorts. Renjun didn’t have anything remotely feminine in his wardrobe, which made sense since it wasn’t his style, nor did he have a sister to help out. This was the best he could manage. You tried folding the shirt and tying it to look more “presentable,” as you put it. He listened as you muttered complaints like, “I’d never go out in public like this” or “A slightly tighter, shorter shirt would make a huge difference.” But he couldn’t care less. You looked so effortlessly beautiful in his clothes.

“Well, I guess this will do,” you finally declare, snapping him out of his little reverie. You had done a simple half-up hairstyle and managed to adjust the shirt to your liking, tying it into a makeshift crop top. “Do you have any makeup around here?” you ask with a playful flutter of your eyelashes, and he obliges.

Renjun retrieves the kit he uses daily and hands it to you, resuming his quiet admiration.

“Some of it might not match your skin tone, so just stick with the eyeshadows, blush, and this brand-new lip balm,” he says, placing the products in front of you, along with a serum. “And can I ask why you’re going to all this trouble to get ready for my friends? You’d look fine to me, messy hair, no makeup, and wearing my clothes just the way they are.” Everything about his words radiates comfort and domesticity.

You can’t help but think of Minhyuk. He used to love you just as you were—completely disheveled, makeup-free, in wrinkled clothes, even with a bit of drool after a night’s sleep. A small, warm smile creeps onto your face at the comforting memory.

“Who said I’m getting ready for your friends?” you retort, raising an eyebrow mockingly. “For your information, I always have to look presentable, even when I’m sleeping. You never know when an emergency might happen in the middle of the night! What if I have to run out because the house catches fire? Or worse, what if I die in my sleep? My ghost is not going to wander around wearing a stained band T-shirt, ripped shorts, and ankle socks.” You explain this while applying the lip balm, your logic making Renjun burst out laughing. Once again, his laughter warms your heart, setting it beating in a way you’re all too familiar with.

The doorbell rings, and your eyes widen. Despite coming from a wealthy, famous, and highly sociable family, you’ve never been a social butterfly—that was always your brother’s role. You’ve preferred to stay in the background, keeping your social circle as small as possible. When necessary, you’d interact politely, of course—your upbringing wouldn’t allow rudeness. But the thought of meeting six new people, all men no less, was nerve-wracking.

Renjun helps you down the stairs, as he’s been adamant about minimizing the strain on your injured foot. One hand supports yours, while the other rests on your waist—now slightly exposed thanks to your tied-up shirt. His firm grip steadies you, and it’s only sheer willpower that stops him from carrying you straight to the sofa. He couldn’t quite understand why he felt so protective of you, but he knew he’d do anything to prevent you from getting hurt again.

“Sit here,” he says, guiding you toward the sofa, but you shake your head in refusal. “Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn, Huang. But you don’t greet people while sitting down. I’m fine standing for a few minutes,” you explain, resolute. He sighs in defeat, though a soft smile soon tugs at his lips as he lets you be.

The doorbell rings again, this time more impatiently. Renjun strides toward the door, muttering, “Learn to wait, Chenle!” as he unlocks it. Three men come into view, and the one who seems to be Chenle strides in first, grumbling.

“If you were just a bit more efficient... It’s just a door,” he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He looks like he has more to say, but his gaze lands on you, standing beside the sofa, and he stops mid-sentence. “Oh, hello, gorgeous,” he says with a grin, stepping closer and extending his hand. “I’m Chenle.”

Shy, you shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“Renjun! You didn’t mention your friend was this pretty,” says the freckled boy—Haechan, apparently. His words make you duck your head, shyness spreading over you as you glance down.

“Shut up, Haechan, and behave, or I’ll throw you out,” Renjun warns, glaring at him. Haechan raises his hands in mock surrender before stepping closer to you and repeating Chenle’s greeting.

“That antisocial guy over there is Jisung,” Renjun says, gesturing toward a tall boy dressed entirely in black. You offer him a polite wave, and Jisung returns a friendly smile.

“And the others?” Renjun asks, watching as Haechan sprawls out on the sofa.

“Mark went to pick up Jeno and Jaemin, but one of his cats wasn’t feeling well, so he’s checking on it. Worst case, he’s bringing the three little troublemakers with him,” Chenle explains, flipping through TV channels. You gasp audibly at the mention of three kittens, and suddenly all eyes are on you. You shrink back slightly.

“Sorry, I just really like cats,” you mumble, which only makes the group chuckle in amusement. Renjun steps closer to you, gently touching your arm.

“You can sit down now. They’re going to take a while, and I don’t want you straining your foot,” he says softly, his tone full of care. It’s obvious he’s trying to divert your attention from the slightly overwhelming presence of the three men, having noticed your discomfort.

Meanwhile, Chenle, Haechan, and Jisung exchange knowing looks, their expressions oozing mischief. Haechan is the first to grab his phone and start typing furiously in their group chat, announcing “renjunnie’s girlfriend :(”. Predictably, the three absent members of the group explode with curiosity and excitement in the chat.

It’s not like Renjun hadn’t already told them what had happened yesterday afternoon. The issue was that he conveniently left out a few crucial details: the girl he almost ran over was now staying at his place, wearing his clothes, and about to have lunch with his friends.

Was this normal behavior for someone who’d just met another person yesterday?

“So, what’s for lunch, huh?” Chenle asks with a cheerful grin.

“Jjamppong. And be nice—she helped me make it,” Renjun replies as he sits beside you, carefully placing a cushion under your leg to keep your foot elevated.

“What’s the story there?” Haechan asks, eyes glinting with curiosity. Renjun shoots him a less-than-friendly look.

“Well, I was…” You hesitate, unsure if Renjun had already filled them in about your situation. You also don’t feel like telling complete strangers that you ran away from your own wedding, so you opt to downplay the story. “...running barefoot on the street and ended up cutting my foot. Definitely not my smartest idea.” You laugh lightly, trying to ease the awkwardness, though the three men exchange puzzled glances.

Once again, the doorbell rings, and Renjun gets up to answer it. He wasn’t expecting Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin to show up so soon—especially since Jaemin is famously attached to his cats and tends to hover over them when they’re unwell. What he wasn’t expecting even more was the sight of each of them carrying one of the cats in their arms.

“Weren’t they supposed to be sick?” Renjun whispers to Jeno as they step inside, visibly confused.

"Yeah, but he just gave them their medication and brought them along. Out of all of us, he’s definitely the most excited to meet your girlfriend." After Jeno’s comment, Renjun could almost swear he saw a question mark floating above his own head, like in a cartoon. But soon enough, he let out a sigh, already knowing who had spread the rumor.

As he closed the door and turned around, he noticed Jaemin standing right next to you, holding Luna in his arms. You looked absolutely delighted. Your love for cats was unmistakable, evident in the way your eyes sparkled as you gazed at the three of them together.

"Our dad never let us have a pet," you shared as Jaemin moved closer, stroking Luna and Luke gently.

“‘Us’?” Mark asked, curious.

"My older brother. When we were kids, he once tried to steal the neighbor’s puppy, but as you can imagine, it didn’t end well. She called the police on him, accusing him of theft, and he denied it to the bitter end, crying his eyes out, begging the officer not to arrest him." You all burst into laughter at the story. The memory was vivid in your mind. You could still picture Jungwoo trembling with fear, even wetting his pants at the thought of being arrested at the tender age of eight—but that part of the story didn’t need to be shared.

"And… how did you two meet?" Jaemin asked, his curiosity piqued. Renjun had given a brief explanation earlier, but Jaemin wanted to hear it from you. He found it hard to believe his friend could start dating someone in just a day. That was more of a Haechan move. Still, who was he to judge love? If Renjun felt it was right, then it was.

You glanced at Renjun, hesitant about how much to share, but he gave you a reassuring nod and a thumbs-up, silently encouraging you to continue. "Well, I was running down the street… barefoot..." you said with a laugh, lifting your injured foot as evidence. "I was so desperate that I didn’t notice the light was green and ended up throwing myself in front of Renjun’s car." You turned to him with a smile, which he returned.

"Good thing I’m an excellent driver with great reflexes," he said smugly, flashing a proud grin—until he noticed your expression.

"But isn’t that just the bare minimum for a driver?" you replied, arching an eyebrow. The room filled with laughter, and all the teasing eyes turned to Renjun, who sighed in defeat. Apparently, you had already joined the club.

"Looks like she got you there," Jeno quipped, laughing as he stretched his legs out on the coffee table. A habit Renjun absolutely despised but had long given up trying to correct after countless ignored requests.

"I refuse to let you join the ‘Renjun Hate Club’ with these degenerates," Renjun muttered, heading toward the kitchen while the others chuckled behind him. "Jisung, come help me!" he called out to the youngest, who groaned as he reluctantly followed.

"I can help—" you started to offer, but Renjun shot you a look that made you pause and blink, lowering your head sheepishly. "Never mind, I guess I can’t…" you murmured, and he gave you a soft, affectionate smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

During lunch, everything went smoothly. The boys made an effort to make you feel more comfortable by bringing up lighthearted topics, giving you plenty of opportunities to join in on the conversations. Even Jisung opened up and shared a few words, and you realized he was simply shy—much like you. He felt more at ease in the presence of close friends.

You also learned that Jeno was once part of the same world of media and wealth but had given it all up to live in anonymity, free from his family’s expectations and pressure. And he was absolutely right to do so; you were sure you’d follow his example after the whole wedding fiasco.

Amid the laughter and chatter, lunch came to an end. The meal was excessively praised which made you feel bashful, though in a good way. After all, if Renjun had been solely responsible for the meal, he would’ve been endlessly teased.

Now, everyone was debating what to watch. Renjun and Mark were voting for comedy, while Jeno and Jisung leaned toward action. Haechan and Chenle argued for suspense, and you threw in a random vote for romantic comedy, aligning with Jaemin. Honestly, you didn’t think the choice of movie mattered much since, from what little you’d seen of Renjun’s friends, they seemed like the type to talk over the whole thing anyway.

“It’s a tie…” Jisung stated the obvious.

“Why doesn’t Renjun decide? It’s his house, isn’t it?” you suggested, and everyone turned to you, though only two of them looked pleased.

“No,” Haechan shot back, making you laugh. “Let’s settle this with a wheel spin.” He pulled out an app on his phone and entered the genres into a digital roulette. Clearly, these disagreements happened often.

The TV was still tuned to a random news channel. Jeno had turned it on, thinking the guys might behave a bit better with you around. He was wrong.

You were completely distracted, stroking Luke, who was napping peacefully in your lap. You almost didn’t notice Minhyuk’s face appear on the screen. But when your eyes caught the image on the TV, you froze.

“Jeno, turn it up, please,” you asked, your tone suddenly serious, your gaze glued to the screen.

“Come on, are you seriously gonna watch the news—” Jeno joked, not giving it much thought.

“Jeno. Turn the damn volume up.” This time, you looked at him directly, and he swore a chill ran down his spine. He had never encountered a woman so… commanding, except maybe his mother. There was something in your expression and tone that left no room for argument.

“[...] And as I stood at the altar, waiting for the woman I thought was the love of my life, she abandoned me.” Your eyes widened. Something deep inside you told you this press conference would spell disaster for your reputation. “She ran away from the wedding, leaving everyone waiting and worried, while she ran off with her lover. And she hasn’t even shown up to explain herself.” Minhyuk’s voice was dripping with hatred. You could almost see the venom in his words.

Your jaw dropped instantly, and the boys around you exchanged worried glances. No, he’s not doing this.

“Do you know him?” Renjun, sitting beside you, asked cautiously. But you didn’t answer. Your focus remained entirely on the screen.

“That’s why I’m saying this here and now, to finally end this charade. Y/N Kim is not who you think she is. She’s manipulative, deceitful, and cruel. She fooled me for years without a shred of remorse…” At that moment, you stopped listening.

You couldn’t believe the man you once loved was capable of doing this to you—spreading lies just to ruin your reputation. Sure, your heart still carried guilt for leaving him at the altar, but this? This was too much.

Yet, you could feel the guilt and regret fading, replaced by anger and a thirst for vengeance. If he wanted an ex-fiancée who was manipulative and cruel, then that’s exactly what he would get.

“Renjun, give me your phone, please,” you said, extending your hand toward him, your voice calm but firm. Your gaze quickly flickered to the others in the room, taking note of the shock on each of their faces. But you weren’t intimidated. Taking the already-unlocked phone, you searched through the call history and dialed Joy.

The phone rang three times before Sooyoung’s voice came through. You didn’t even need to say anything before she spoke. “I’m watching the show too. Jooheon just told me about it—apparently, Minhyuk gathered everyone at the last minute, and even he didn’t know.”

You let out a dry laugh, your tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you kept your eyes fixed on the nonsense your ex-fiancé was spewing on TV. “I need you to come pick me up. Now,” you said curtly before hanging up.

You asked Renjun for the address, which he immediately provided. Typing it into a text, you sent it to your best friend.

Without missing a beat, Jeno turned off the TV, sparing you from any further torment. The room fell into an awkward silence. While Renjun watched you with concern, the other boys seemed more curious than anything else.

“Is it okay to ask?” Chenle finally muttered, only to receive a light smack from Mark, who promptly silenced him.

“You all asked how I hurt my foot…” you began, your voice carrying the weight of suppressed emotion. “I was running away from my wedding to that…” you paused, closing your eyes as anger surged through you. Words failed to capture just how furious you felt toward Lee Minhyuk. “Idiot. And no, I didn’t cheat on him—least of all with Renjun. I’ve only known him for a day,” you clarified quickly, eager to dispel any lingering doubts.

“I just… I wasn’t feeling right. It wasn’t what I wanted, and without thinking, I ran.” Your expression softened, tinged with melancholy. You felt truly disheartened, betrayed by someone you thought you knew so well. Years of what had seemed like a happy relationship had come crashing down, leaving behind a bitter taste you couldn’t ignore.

A familiar warmth enveloped you as Renjun pulled you into a hug. You looked up at him, offering a small, grateful smile, before leaning further into his embrace. He held you with care and kindness, making you feel secure in a way you hadn’t expected.

Tilting your head back to keep the tears at bay proved futile as emotion overwhelmed you. They spilled over, your fragile heart breaking under the weight of everything.

“And I don’t even want to think about how my dad’s feeling—if he’s watching this,” you choked out, your voice quivering with restrained sobs. A comforting hand rested on your shoulder, this time from Jaemin. “God, he’s going to kill me…” you murmured to yourself, curling further into Renjun’s chest for solace.

Part of you felt pathetic for crying in front of seven men you barely knew—especially over someone who hadn’t even given you the chance to explain your side before painting you as the villain. You knew your actions hadn’t been the most rational and that you should’ve at least talked to Minhyuk. But you’d been too desperate to think straight.

On the other hand, you couldn’t deny how comforted you felt in Renjun’s arms. You never thought you’d find solace in a stranger, but here you were. Feeling something so deep and reassuring, you dared to think that Minhyuk had never made you feel this way.

“I’m sorry, guys…” you mumbled, your voice muffled against Renjun’s chest but still loud enough for the others to hear.

"You don’t have to apologize. He was a complete jerk; it’s not your fault," Mark reassured you, sitting down on the floor beside you.

“It kind of is. I left him at the altar…” you lamented, sniffing as your eyes began to burn again, threatening another wave of relentless tears. Unable to hold it back, you buried your face in Renjun’s chest once more.

“Like you said yourself, you weren’t feeling good about it. You just did what you thought was best for you at the time. And you did the right thing. You don’t have to blame yourself for anything,” Jeno’s calm voice chimed in as he walked closer.

“Exactly. If he had any sense, he would’ve listened to you. Seriously, it’s been, what, a day? And he’s already pulling this ridiculous stunt?” Haechan added, placing a comforting hand on your back and rubbing it gently.

“Yeah… It’s almost like he’s trying to gain something out of all this…” Chenle speculated, suspicion evident in his tone.

Before you realized it, you were surrounded by all of them, each radiating care and concern.

“I’ve already told her she’s not to blame, but does she listen to me? Nope,” Renjun teased lightly, his fingers running through your hair. “Can we all agree now that he’s not worth it? Look at you—here you are, crying your heart out over a guy who doesn’t even deserve it.” His hand slipped down to cup your cheek, gently tilting your face up so he could meet your eyes. His gaze held you captive, and gradually, your tears began to subside.

“Yep. Men are trash,” Jisung quipped with a disdainful shrug.

“Hey, let’s not get carried away,” Jeno protested, feigning offense.

“What? I’m a man who doesn’t like men. And I’ll say this—I always support women in their rights and wrongs!” Jisung’s dramatic declaration earned a genuine laugh from you, breaking the trance Renjun’s gaze had put you in. Smiling, you buried your face back into his chest, feeling a little lighter.

“Are you rooting against your own team, you idiot?” Mark tossed a pillow at Jisung, who dodged it effortlessly.

“Oh, as if you don’t use that same line to flirt with girls,” Jisung shot back, smirking. Mark’s expression turned red, especially with you in the room. Without a word, he began chasing Jisung around the living room, carefully avoiding the cats scattered on the floor.

“Hey, I have a genuine question,” Jaemin called out, grabbing your attention. “Is it true that women like pathetic men?”

You burst out laughing at his so-called “genuine” question. “Not all, but yeah, a lot of them do,” you replied, resting your head against Renjun’s shoulder while glancing around. Mark had paused his pursuit of Jisung, looking intrigued by the conversation.

“Hmm… are you one of them?” Haechan asked slyly, clearly attempting to flirt. His comment made Renjun visibly flustered, prompting him to swat at Haechan in irritation.

“Alright, alright, my bad! Forgot she’s yours,” Haechan teased with a mischievous grin. The comment made Renjun’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

“Yours?” you repeated, sitting up straight as you smirked. You weren’t offended at all; in fact, you found it amusing. Of course, you didn’t take the comment seriously, but you couldn’t resist playing along. “Am I yours?” you asked again, leaning closer to Renjun, watching as he became even more flustered.

The other boys were barely holding in their laughter, enjoying the sight of their friend practically melting into the couch.

“You know they’re just… messing around,” Renjun mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly embarrassed. Mentally, he vowed to get back at Donghyuck as soon as you left the room.

You turned your attention to Haechan, who still wore a mischievous smirk. Whatever comeback he was planning was cut short by the sound of the doorbell.

Startled, you stood up quickly, inadvertently putting too much pressure on your injured foot. Pain shot through your sole, causing you to wince sharply. The boys immediately noticed, their expressions shifting to concern. Before your legs could give out entirely, Jaemin stepped in, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

The doorbell rings again, and Mark is the one who goes to answer it. He barely has time to register who’s at the door before the man barges in, pushing the door—and whoever was behind it—aside, frantically looking for his younger sister, desperate for news about her. He scans the room, and the relief on his face is almost tangible.

“Oh my God, you’re okay!” he exclaims with a smile but quickly notices her pained expression. Jungwoo swiftly moves to kneel in front of you. His eyes catch Jaemin’s hand still resting on your waist, and he shoots him a deadly glare, making the younger man withdraw immediately. “What happened?” His tone and demeanor shift dramatically.

“I hurt my foot while running away from the wedding,” you explain quickly.

“Sorry about him; he was just worried,” Joy apologizes, still standing by the door. Mark invites her in, and she thanks him, stepping closer to the group. “I had to bring him. He was with me when you called,” she explains, feeling the need to clarify since she’d never intended to reveal your location to anyone.

“It’s fine, better here than… causing trouble,” you mutter, referring to someone who shouldn’t be mentioned now.

“I wasn’t going to cause trouble,” Jungwoo defends himself, stroking Lucy, who has found comfort resting against his legs. “I just wanted to have an honest conversation, you know, man-to-man.” Both Joy and you exchange tired looks.

“Even you don’t believe that,” she counters, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’m Joy, and this is Jungwoo. It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she introduces herself warmly. Behind you, you hear a sigh and turn to see the smitten faces of Chenle and Haechan.

“You better not even get it started; she’s married,” you whisper, and their attention snaps back to you.

“To your brother?” Haechan asks curiously, still unable to take his eyes off the older woman. He doesn’t notice the disgusted face you make at the absurd suggestion.

“Who cares? It’s better to compete with one than with a hundred,” Chenle quips but quickly glances at his friend with mild disdain. “Or two…” Hearing this nonsense, you toss a pillow at the Chinese boy, though the older one is smart enough to dodge your attack.

“I’m Renjun,” Huang says, standing up and offering a handshake to both Joy and Jungwoo.

“Wow, you were right…” Joy glances at you but then focuses on the younger man in front of her. She studies his delicate and attractive features, smiling, which flusters Renjun.

Her comment makes you nervous too. Thank goodness she didn’t give any context!

“Well, I hope you don’t mind if we don’t stick around,” Jungwoo announces, getting to his feet. “We need to take you to the hospital, and missy, you’re staying at my place.” He helps you stand up.

“Hospital?” you ask, alarmed. You’ve always hated hospitals—they smell bad, are full of sick people, and worst of all, they hurt you more before they heal you.

“Yes, ma’am. Who knows what you stepped on?” Jungwoo says in a firm tone, making you pout. You always feel like a naughty child when he talks to you like that. It takes you back to the days when your father would scold you for every little thing you did as a child.

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly, though it’s not like you have much of a choice.

Before leaving, you grabbed the dress. You needed to return it to the designer. You weren’t going to wear that piece again—not when you were no longer marrying the man you once thought was right for you. As you looked at the dress, anger surged within you. Anger at having almost entrusted your life to someone who, at the first opportunity, threw you to the wolves. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what people were saying, what your family was thinking, and honestly, you didn’t want to. You had already punished yourself enough in the span of one day—you needed a break.

You said goodbye to Renjun, the boys, and, of course, the kittens, with a promise to return and spend much more time with them. They seemed to like you so much.

At the moment, Jungwoo was driving to Joy’s house because you refused to go to the hospital before changing clothes. Renjun’s clothes were comfortable, and you loved them, but they weren’t exactly suitable for being out in public. Joy sat beside you, scrolling through social media, looking for reactions to Minhyuk’s important statement. Her expression was unreadable, which only made you more uneasy.

Noticing your agitation, she spoke up: “Jungwoo, why don’t you explain to your sister why she can’t go back home?” Her attention shifted, now interested in what your older brother had to say.

“Earlier, I went to our parents’ house, and Hajoon was impossible.” His words startled you—not so much because of the situation, which you’d already expected, but because he referred to your father by his name.

“Hajoon…” you murmured, and Jungwoo glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “Why?”

Your father had always been stern and struggled to show affection to you and your brother, especially you. For some reason, you had always been very attached to him. You wanted him to host tea parties, play with your dolls, and even help you choose outfits on special occasions. But this often irritated him, as he came home exhausted from long days at work. You would still pester him, asking him to sit on the floor and pretend that the sink water was tea and that your dolls could talk.

Most times, he’d refuse, but after your insistence, he would grow even more irritated, leading to shouting matches. That’s when Jungwoo would step in—your protector, your knight in shining armor. Time and again, he argued with your father on your behalf. He had long ago accepted that your father wasn’t interested in spending time with you both. But you didn’t understand that and kept going back, hoping for more. Jungwoo was never particularly close to Hajoon, but he still respected him and always called him “Dad.”

Now, hearing Jungwoo refer to him by his name felt like a punch in the gut. What have I done…?

“He said he was going to disown you and kick you out of the family, so I disowned myself too,” Jungwoo said, smiling faintly as if to soften the blow.

“Jungwoo, this has nothing to do with you, for God’s sake,” you scolded, watching him pull a face.

“Of course it does. You’re my sister—I’ll stand by you anywhere, anytime.” You gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. “And honestly, who even wants to be that man’s son? Let’s be real. If it weren’t for mom, we’d have spent our childhood in a boarding school. I couldn’t care less about giving up being a Kim,” he finished, turning his face away in a huff.

“You know you can’t change your brother’s mind,” Joy chimed in, still focused on her phone.

“Yeah… but it makes me think that in twenty-one years, he’s finally stopped pretending to care. He’s not even trying to fake it anymore…” You felt the tears welling up again. “I guess you were right—Minhyuk and Dad really do think the same way.”

Jungwoo’s heart clenched painfully. Why did you have to be so attached to a man who had never valued you? Why did you have to love him so deeply when he hadn’t returned even a fraction of that pure, boundless affection?

Joy wrapped her arms around you in a warm embrace, comforting you. She glanced forward, trying to read Jungwoo’s expression as he clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel tightly. If letting him near your father before was risky, now that Hajoon had made you cry, there was no way the two of them could be in the same room.

Against your brother’s protests about freshening up, the first thing you did upon arriving at his house was grab your phone and hurry to the bedroom—or at least move as quickly as you could with your injured foot. You had already asked Joy for Renjun’s number, and she gave it to you without hesitation.

And now, here you are: sitting on the bed, talking to Renjun.

“And how are you doing? I mean, with the whole situation, you know?”

“I’m still processing everything and… planning my revenge.”

“Revenge? Look, I know what he did was awful, and I’d definitely want to punch his face in, but revenge?”

“Renjun, in this world—even though I’m not exactly ‘public’—reputation still matters. And he destroyed mine. Of course, I’m going to get even! Now, enjoy yourself with the boys. I have to convince Jungwoo that I don’t need to go to the hospital. Take care.”

Without waiting for his response, you lock your phone and toss it onto the bed before standing. Just as you were about to leave the room, your brother appeared, knocking twice to announce himself before opening the door. You sighed and sat back down on the bed.

“Don’t be like that, little doll. I only want what’s best for you,” he said, crouching in front of you.

“I know, but I’m fine now. The cut isn’t deep, and Renjun took great care of it,” you explained, crossing your arms and watching as your brother’s expression turned curious.

“Why don’t you tell me more about this Renjun, huh?” Jungwoo stood, plopping down on the bed next to you and pulling you down to lie beside him. “You two seemed close. I mean, all of them did…” His gaze fell on you, eyebrows furrowed. “Was it them you—”

“No! Shut up, Jungwoo!” You slapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. “Actually, I only met him yesterday. He almost ran me over…” you said, smiling fondly at the memory of meeting the Chinese boy. You predicted your brother’s reaction and cut him off before he could begin a lecture, just like Joy had tried. “Save your breath. Renjun was incredibly kind and respectful to me. I know it was reckless… going to a stranger’s house, but I was desperate, and he seemed trustworthy.”

Jungwoo opened his mouth again, only for you to interrupt him once more. “And I was right! Don’t start with that either. I think I’m old enough to have learned my lesson, Woo.” You fixed your gaze on a spot on the ceiling.

“How do you do that?” he asked, horrified, looking at you strangely.

“I know you too well. And it’s not just that—you and Joy are like the same person. Seriously,” you teased, making him laugh as he folded his arms behind his head.

The room fell into silence, with both of you staring at the gray ceiling. You were both thinking about the same thing, though in different ways. You wanted to take down Minhyuk—subtly, little by little. This public fallout had already gone too far, and the last thing you wanted was to worsen the situation for your family. You couldn’t even bring yourself to check social media, too afraid of what people might be saying.

Jungwoo, on the other hand, had already asked Joy about it and knew things weren’t looking good. While a fair number of people were on your side, others were saying cruel things. He preferred to shield you from it. As for Minhyuk, it was best to keep him far away. If Jungwoo had the chance, he might send him to the hospital—and that would only escalate everything, especially for you.

“So… what do you plan to do now? About the… situation…” he asked gently, turning his head to look at you. He was trying to tread carefully, unsure of how much this had hurt you.

“I don’t know yet, but I’m dying to give him what he deserves,” you said, still staring at the same spot on the ceiling. “I just need some time and to see how much traction his idiotic speech is getting.” You sighed, sitting up and looking back at him. “I hope you brought my clothes.”

“There are some you left here. I didn’t grab anything from Mom’s house because Hajoon already blew up when I took your documents. Imagine if I walked out with a suitcase.” He sighed, mirroring yours. “But if you want, I can ask Joy to buy some more for you.”

“No, that’s fine, Woo. Thanks.” You stood, and so did he.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to talk to our parents, whether they like it or not,” you declared, heading to the bathroom. “I just need this foot to heal so I can wear my heels again. I hope I left a few pairs here,” you muttered to yourself, making your brother laugh at your priorities.

Soon after, he left the room to give you some privacy.

Downstairs, Jungwoo found Joy on the phone. The moment she noticed him, she abruptly ended the call, making him narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What was that about?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” she replied quickly, locking her phone and crossing her arms. “How is she?” Joy asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Jungwoo hesitated, still suspicious of her sudden behavior.

“Come on, Jungwoo, it was just an unnecessary call. Don’t stress over it,” she pressed, raising a brow as if daring him to challenge her.

“Huh. She’s doing fine. And if I know her well, she’s already plotting something against that jerk. Honestly, I don’t blame her.” Jungwoo walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. He offered it to Joy, but she declined. “Oh, and she said she’s planning to go to mom and Hajoon’s place tomorrow.” He caught himself mid-sentence, quickly correcting how he addressed his father, and took a big gulp of water, visibly restless.

“Jungwoo, you really need to stop worrying so much about her. She’s a grown woman now,” Joy said, her voice calm but firm.

“She might be grown, but she’s still, and always will be, my little sister, Joy. I’ll never stop worrying. I just need... to figure out how to adjust.” He refilled his glass and exhaled deeply.

It wasn’t that he thought Hajoon would harm you physically, but he couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be yelling or some harsh words thrown your way.

“Missing her already, lover boy?” Haechan’s teasing voice cut through the air, immediately getting under Renjun’s skin. He sighed loudly, scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary.

“Shut your mouth, Donghyuck, or I’ll throw this plate at your face,” Renjun snapped, making Haechan raise his hands in mock surrender while laughing. He went back to organizing the kitchen counter, but the grin never left his face.

Ever since you left, Renjun’s mood had noticeably shifted. He had grown quieter, barely engaging in conversations or reacting to jokes. It was obvious that something was bothering him, and Haechan, of course, couldn’t resist poking fun at it.

The only time Renjun seemed even remotely himself was when he looked at his phone. He had even smiled for a brief moment earlier. Jisung, ever the observer, caught a glimpse and quietly told the others that it was you he was texting. That small revelation earned knowing smiles from the group. However, as soon as the conversation ended, Renjun returned to his sulky demeanor.

“Come on, just admit it—you’re smitten with her, aren’t you?” Mark asked casually while drying the dishes.

“Is this what love at first sight looks like?” Jaemin chimed in from the living room, his voice dripping with mock curiosity.

“Oh, you’re one to talk about love, huh, Jaemin?” Renjun shot back irritably, referencing his friend’s own complicated situation. Jaemin muttered something inaudible, clearly embarrassed. “And no, I’m not smitten with her. I’m just worried. I’ve only known her for a day, but she’s my friend.”

“Damn, calling her ‘just a friend’ even stung me,” Haechan muttered under his breath, loud enough for Renjun to hear. In response, Renjun splashed water in his direction, silencing him.

“I’m serious. I’m just worried,” Renjun insisted. But even as he said it, his thoughts drifted to you. He couldn’t help but think about you, replaying every interaction in his mind. Was it possible to fall for someone so quickly? It didn’t make sense.

“Look at that—he’s thinking about her again,��� Mark whispered to Haechan, both of them chuckling under their breath.

Renjun spun around, his patience wearing thin. “Why is my love life suddenly your favorite topic? Shouldn’t you two be more worried about your own, Haechan and Jaemin?”

“Oh, mine’s doing just fine, thanks for asking,” Jaemin quipped as he strutted into the kitchen, one of the kittens trailing behind him. “I’m handling things like a pro.” He crossed his arms smugly, flashing a self-satisfied grin.

Everyone exchanged skeptical looks.

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?” Jaemin asked, confused, as the kitten let out a soft meow — almost as if it, too, was judging him.

“Seriously? ‘Handling it well?’ You break up with your girlfriend, and the first thing you do is go after her best friend?” Chenle asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The girl’s cool, and honestly, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence that she happens to be my ex’s best friend. Everything’s fine, though, guys,” Jaemin replied smoothly, but his laid-back attitude only earned more mocking looks from his friends.

“When Lyla finds out, she’ll probably cut the girl’s throat,” Jeno chimed in, joining the conversation.

“That’s the thing—she already knows, and she’s fine with it,” Jaemin explained confidently. Jeno raised a skeptical brow.

“I’m serious. Everything’s good,” Jaemin added with a casual shrug.

“Anyway, what about you, Haechan? Hooking up with your ex’s enemy?” The attention shifted to the younger Lee after Renjun pointed at him.

“Okay, I admit it wasn’t my most mature decision,” Haechan conceded, almost giving Renjun a point. “But she’s hot, and we’re having a lot of fun,” he added with a mischievous laugh, causing Mark, Jeno, Renjun, and Jisung to sigh in unison. The others, however, couldn’t help but laugh along, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“You’re all a bunch of idiots,” Renjun muttered under his breath, turning back to finish washing the dishes.

Standing in front of the mansion, you hesitated. You mentally replayed everything you planned to say, going over every possible reaction your parents might have when they saw you. It had been a day since Minhyuk’s infamous press conference, and, as promised, here you were—at your parents’ residence.

Taking a deep breath, you called out to the security guard.

“Miss Kim,” he greeted politely, and you gave him a brief, tight smile. You weren’t in the mood for pleasantries, but you weren’t going to be rude either. Making your way to the front door, you raised a hand to knock, but before you could, the door opened, revealing your mother.

You braced yourself. You expected her to yell, to reprimand you, and only then to offer comfort. But to your surprise, the moment her eyes landed on you, she pulled you into a warm embrace.

Katherine seemed eerily calm, and that unnerved you.

“Come in, sweetheart,” she said gently, guiding you into the house with a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “When we didn’t hear from you yesterday, I was worried sick. I feared the worst,” she confessed, stopping in front of you to cradle your face in her hands. “You can’t imagine the relief I felt when Joy told me you were okay.”

Joy. Of course, she had called your mother. You wanted to be annoyed, or at least curious, but deep down, you knew she had done it out of concern for your well-being.

“I thought you’d be angry,” you murmured softly, sadness lacing your voice. Katherine smiled faintly.

“Oh, my darling, I was,” she admitted, her tone firm for a moment, making you glance at her warily. But then it softened again, washing away your anxiety. “But when Joy explained what happened... I understood. And I’m so sorry, Peanut,” she said, using your childhood nickname and brushing your cheek with the back of her hand. “I admit, when Minhyuk’s parents proposed the idea, I agreed without much thought. I didn’t think you’d feel pressured, especially since Minhyuk seemed to agree so readily. I thought you two were on the same page.”

You frowned, confusion clouding your expression.

“What do you mean? He knew about it from the start?” you asked, shocked. You had only found out about the whole arrangement—the merger of families and businesses—after the wedding.

“Yes…?” Your mother looked just as confused. “He was at the meeting. He said he’d discussed it with you and that you only weren’t there because you had plans with your friends.”

That was the last straw. Anger surged through you, your expression hardening.

“It’s fine, Mom,” you said curtly, ending the topic. “Thanks for worrying, but as you can see, I’m fine. I didn’t come here to talk about this. I’m guessing you already know what I want to discuss.”

Katherine sighed, straightening her posture and nodding.

“Is dad home?”

“In his office.” You turned to leave, but she grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Sweetheart, your father is furious, especially after Minhyuk’s press conference. Are you sure you want to do this today?” she asked, her eyes searching yours.

“Before I share my side of the story, I need to talk to both of you. I’m not putting this off. My image is being destroyed because of your ‘golden boy,’ and I don’t care if dad’s mad. Believe me, I’m much angrier.”

You pulled your arm free from her grasp and marched toward your father’s office, determination blazing in your every step.

The dark doors burst open with a sudden force, cutting Hajoon's phone call short. He immediately ended the call as soon as his ungrateful daughter appeared in his office. Behind you was your mother, following closely, though she didn’t seem angry at all—her calm demeanor puzzled Hajoon.

“What are you doing in this house? You are not welcome here,” he snapped, rising from his seat. Your father was an imposing figure—his height, stern face, and booming voice could intimidate anyone. But you didn’t flinch. You were tired.

Katherine quickly moved to his side, trying to calm him down. She could see his rage building and wanted to prevent things from escalating.

“I just came to grab a few things and ask your opinion, dear father, about that sleazy Lee’s speech. And, of course, I’d like to know how you manage to be so… miserable, rejecting your children the way you do,” you retorted, your tone dripping with mockery. The bitter taste of rejection filled your mouth. You wanted to say more, to hurl years’ worth of pain at him, but you restrained yourself. Being painted as the traitor was bad enough; you didn’t need to be the hysterical one too.

“Reject? My behavior is proportional to yours!” His voice grew louder. “I gave you everything, girl. To you and your brother! And this is how you repay me? First, you run away from the marriage I invested money, partnerships, and countless hours planning, only to have you throw it all away. Then, I find out—on national television—that you’ve been cheating on Minhyuk all along?” His tone was mocking, incredulous at the allegations. “And your brother? He made his choice when he sided with you. You are the disgrace of this family, Kim Y/N!” he roared, the final sentence echoing like a thunderclap.

“Disgrace? Because we didn’t bend to your whims?” you shouted back, matching his intensity. Both your father and mother looked stunned.

It wasn’t like you to yell or confront him. That role was usually reserved for Jungwoo. You had always been the obedient daughter—the good girl who caused no trouble, accepted everything without complaint, and kept her head down. But not anymore. Being the perfect daughter had gotten you nowhere.

“I’ve had enough,” you said, your voice calmer but no less firm. You stood tall, meeting his glare. “I’m done being the good little girl you always wanted me to be. You’re not worth it.”

He opened his mouth to respond, furious, but you cut him off.

“Shut up. I’m not finished,” you snapped, and both your parents’ eyes widened at your audacity. Hajoon’s fury only deepened.

“I’m done chasing after you, begging for scraps of love from the father I once adored. Look at me—where did being the perfect daughter, always silent, always obedient, get me? I said shut up!” You were beyond caring now. To hell with hysteria, to hell with family unity, to hell with Hajoon and his oppressive control.

“When have I ever done something for myself? Ballet, friendships, schools, even college—it was all for you. I’ve always obeyed, and this is how you treat me? My happiness has never mattered to you, Hajoon. To you, Jungwoo and I were never more than heirs to your empire. And now, the moment I do something for myself—fight for my happiness—I’m suddenly the disgrace of the family?” You laughed bitterly, running a hand through your hair, your blood boiling with rage.

“And you think, because you gave me ‘everything,’ including an amazing mother—one of the only things I can thank you for—you know me so well? You should know I’d never betray someone.”

“Funny you say that. That argument died the moment you walked out of this house two days ago. What guarantee do I have that you’re not just a slut who’ll sleep with anyone?”

The sharp crack of your hand across his face echoed through the room. His eyes widened in disbelief at what just happened.

“You will never speak to her like that again, Hajoon,” your mother’s voice broke the tense silence. Her eyes burned with a fury you had never seen, not even when Jungwoo and you accidentally ruined her expensive painting. Katherine’s breathing was ragged, her anger barely contained.

“Not only are you questioning my daughter’s character, but you’re also insulting my worth as a mother. If you ever say something like that again, I swear I’ll do something I’ll regret,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Enough. You are not my father. You never were. Jungwoo was right to abandon you at the first opportunity. You’re lucky to still have Mom, because as far as your children are concerned, you have none,” you declared, turning your back on him. “Not that you wanted us anyway, right?” you added bitterly, storming out of the room.

Your mother called after you, her voice pleading, but you ignored her, quickening your pace to leave the house. You had even given up on retrieving your belongings. You wanted nothing from that man—not his money, not his name, not his legacy.

It had been hours since you left your parents’ house, and the sun was beginning to set.

Since walking out, you had wandered the streets, lost in thought. Memories flooded your mind—everything that had happened before the wedding, during the preparations, and everything that had led to your current situation.

A soft knock on your bedroom door broke your reverie. You were finishing getting ready, spritzing on perfume and checking your bag one last time.

Katherine entered after you gave her permission, stepping inside with a proud smile.

“Minhyuk is waiting for you in the living room,” she announced warmly. She was proud of you, proud that you were taking steps to focus on your life and find clarity—even in your relationships.

Unlike Jungwoo, who buried himself in work and showed no interest in any of the daughters of the family’s business partners, you had decided to give Minhyuk a chance. You had met him at one of the many charity events his father hosted. As usual, you and Jungwoo were dragged to these events to present the image of a happy, business-minded family, destined to inherit the empire.

At the start of the evening, you and Jungwoo greeted the hosts before being promptly abandoned by your parents, who left to socialize and discuss business with other guests. Jungwoo wanted to catch up with a friend but hesitated to leave you alone. Only after you assured him it was fine did he finally leave, while you wandered off to distract yourself with the appetizers at the party since you weren’t allowed to drink yet.

“You might like this one; the dough is made from potatoes,” a male voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see who it was. You recognized him—he was the son of one of your father’s friends.

“Thank you...” you murmured shyly, feeling slightly uneasy under his persistent gaze.

“I’m Minhyuk. It’s a pleasure,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. When you hesitantly offered yours, he brought it to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on your delicate skin.

Later, you asked your mother to clasp the necklace around your neck, and she happily obliged. As you looked up from your purse to the mirror, you caught sight of her face beaming with pride.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” she said, resting her chin on your shoulder and gently adjusting your hair. “It makes me happy to see you giving someone from our circle a chance. Do you think he can make you happy?”

You hesitated for a moment. It was too soon to tell—after all, you had only met him two weeks ago, and tonight was your first official date. But if he continued behaving as he had been, you were sure the answer would be yes.

“I think so, mom…” you replied, smiling.

“Good. That’s all that matters,” she said, brushing your arms affectionately. “Now go, don’t keep him waiting!” Katherine encouraged you, handing you your purse before ushering you out.

As you descended the stairs, you could hear two male voices, which you quickly identified as your father and Minhyuk. The moment they noticed your presence, both turned to face you with smiles. Lee Minhyuk always had a certain sparkle in his eyes whenever you were the center of his attention, but tonight... it felt even more intense. His gaze glimmered like that of a tiger.

But you weren’t happy. Far from it.

You couldn’t believe you had trusted that man. Fury surged through you as you abruptly stood from the bench, slinging your purse over your shoulder. With purposeful strides, your heels clicked loudly against the floor, echoing your growing anger.

“Y/N?” A familiar male voice called out. Turning around, you saw Jeno approaching, his smile widening as he recognized you. “Oh, wow, you look… different,” he remarked, gesturing to your outfit.

You were wearing a sleeveless white dress with a V-neckline, paired with white high heels, a light blue purse, and a matching headband that swept your hair back. It was nothing like the casual clothes you had worn the day you first met.

“Yeah, I look less... Renjun,” you said with a smile. Though the mention of the Chinese boy brought a genuine smile to your face, the scowl on your features remained evident, prompting Jeno to frown slightly.

“Is everything okay? You seem upset. Is this about your... ex-fiancé?” he asked cautiously. But the mere mention of Minhyuk made you roll your eyes.

“I think so...” you muttered with a pout before resuming your stride, expecting him to follow.

“It’s just... the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced this was Minhyuk’s plan all along,” you whispered. With every passing thought, the pieces fell into place.

“Jeno!” you suddenly stopped, startling the boy as you grabbed his shoulders and locked eyes with him. “Will you help me?” Your gaze was full of hope, but Jeno averted his eyes, sighing.

“Why is it always me...” he muttered in defeat.

You squealed, throwing your arms around his neck. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around your waist, silently agreeing to assist you. For a fleeting moment, Jeno thought he heard the faint click of a camera shutter, but he dismissed it.

Later that day, you were getting ready to visit Arin’s house. You needed to explain everything to her. After Joy, she was your closest friend. Following your conversation with Jeno and the partial formulation of your plan, you felt a glimmer of hope. Jeno would gather evidence against Minhyuk, you would hold a press conference to clear your name, and everything would fall into place. You’d prove your innocence to everyone—including your parents, though you hardly cared about their opinion—and finally, this ordeal would end.

Or so you thought, until the intercom buzzed.

Picking up the receiver, you heard the doorman’s voice. “Miss Kim, the young man from yesterday is here again. Shall I let him up?” You immediately agreed, knowing the only “young man” from yesterday was Jeno. Placing the receiver back down, you headed to the living room. A few moments later, a knock sounded at the door. Opening it, you found Jeno, looking flustered and out of breath.

“Oh no, what happened?” you asked, equal parts concerned and irritated.

“Have you seen the news?” he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling to find what he wanted to show you.

“No, I don’t use social media, and I turned off my phone after leaving my parents’ house,” you admitted, your tone laced with anxiety. You rushed to retrieve your phone from the apartment.

When the screen lit up, it displayed a barrage of missed calls and messages—from your mother, father, Joy, Jungwoo, Jisung, Changbin, Arin, Minhyuk, and... Renjun? Ignoring the others, you opened Renjun’s chat, the crease between your brows deepening.

“You never told me you knew Jeno... or that you were with him after that day. I just hope your ex-fiancé isn’t right about you. If he is... I’ll hate myself for helping a traitor, especially with one of my best friends. What a mess...”

It was clear he was upset. Not that he had any right to meddle in your life, but still, you had considered him a friend. Didn’t he feel the same? And what was he even talking about?

Swallowing hard, you turned to Jeno, who sighed and handed you his phone.

“It seems the heiress of the Kim Group—the cosmetics giant—was indeed having an affair during her engagement to Minhyuk Lee. And the alleged lover? None other than Jeno Lee, the former heir to another enormous brand—”

You stopped reading. Your head throbbed. You couldn’t believe this was happening. The barrage of calls and messages from your parents and Minhyuk already worried you, but now, knowing the potential cause, you were furious. You hadn’t even realized the article was from yesterday, shortly after you had hugged Jeno to solidify your plan.

“I knew I shouldn’t have ignored that sound…” Jeno muttered, running a hand down his face in frustration. “Even my parents called me. My parents, who haven’t spoken to me since I gave up the inheritance,” he added bitterly. “And they congratulated me...” He continued ranting, oblivious to your simmering rage.

All you could feel was hatred. The world around you blurred, and Jeno’s words became distant noise. Nothing mattered except resolving this mess. You weren’t going to wait any longer. If Minhyuk wanted a showdown, you’d give him one.

“Forget the plan. Forget everything. I’ll handle this myself,” you declared, your voice trembling with anger. You didn’t even bother finishing your makeup or applying perfume. Instead, you grabbed your bag and keys, storming out, with Jeno scrambling to keep up.

“What are you planning to do? Hey, slow down!” he called, squeezing into the elevator beside you.

“I’m going straight to Minhyuk. If his goal was to infuriate me, congratulations to him—he succeeded. I’m not going to let him destroy what’s left of my reputation. One question, Jeno—do you have your car?” He nods hesitantly, swallowing hard. As the elevator doors open, you stride into the parking lot with determined, forceful steps, not even knowing which car belongs to Jeno.

“Over here,” he calls from the opposite direction. “God… please don’t let this woman make me crash my car…” he mutters under his breath, eyes closed, opening the passenger door for you.

At the bridal shop where Renjun worked, his melancholic mood was impossible to miss, even for Hyunjin, his coworker and friend. Renjun had been so out of sorts that he couldn’t even tend to customers properly and was relegated to handling the cash register.

“All right, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asked directly, taking advantage of the quiet lull in the shop, where it was just the two of them for the moment.

“Nothing.” Renjun kept his response short, still scribbling idly in his sketchbook. Hyunjin let out an incredulous laugh and snatched the notebook from his hands.

“Listen here, Huang Renjun. Your sulking is dragging down your energy and the whole vibe of the shop. You’re supposed to be the charming designer who makes brides feel excited about their special day, but instead, you’re spreading your dark cloud of misery everywhere.” He wagged a finger in mock reprimand, while Renjun pouted in annoyance. “Look at this!” Hyunjin gestured dramatically at the small flower pot on the counter. “Even the flowers are wilting!”

“It’s just a bad day, Hyunjin. Leave me alone,” Renjun muttered, stretching his hand out to retrieve the sketchbook, but Hyunjin held it out of reach.

“Give it back, Hyunjin.”

“Nope,” Hyunjin replied smugly, tilting his head as he kept the notebook away.

Just as Renjun moved to chase after his friend, the door to the shop opened. He froze in surprise as Mark and Jaemin walked in, both holding coffee cups.

“What are you two doing here?” Renjun asked, perplexed.

“We were nearby and decided to check on you,” Jaemin explained, handing an extra coffee to Renjun, while Mark offered his to Hyunjin.

“You guys really need to stop treating me like some kid who needs constant babysitting,” Renjun grumbled as he sipped his drink.

“So, you’re not upset about the news involving her?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow. Hyunjin’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

“Ooh, who’s ‘her’?” he teased, earning a deadly glare from Renjun as he snatched his notebook back. “Rude,” Hyunjin muttered.

“She’s Renjun’s girlfriend,” Jaemin announced with a grin, making Renjun’s face flush instantly.

“You never told me you had a girlfriend!” Hyunjin gasped in mock offense.

“She’s not my girlfriend! She’s just a friend—I’ve told you a thousand times,” Renjun snapped, clearly irritated, not just with their intrusion into his workplace but with the reminder of the tabloid article showing you and Jeno hugging. That photo. The way Jeno’s hands rested on your waist. Almost as if he were holding you in a way that was… intimate. Just thinking about it made Renjun’s blood boil. And the worst part? He didn’t even know why.

“Renjun,” Mark began, “you got upset when you saw her with Jeno. You were down when she left your house.”

“And, out of twenty thoughts you have a day, twenty of them are about her,” Jaemin chimed in. “You think we didn’t notice how soft and caring you were with her? Just admit it—love at first sight is real, and you miss her because you like her.”

Renjun blinked, the words hitting him harder than he expected, but he shook his head. “I refuse to take relationship advice from either of you… or Haechan.” He sighed, grabbing his coffee and notebook as he stood. “Hyunjin, take over the register—I’m taking my lunch break.”

“Hey! Of all of us, I had the longest relationship!” Jaemin shouted after him.

“That doesn’t count if she was crazy!” Renjun retorted. “And I’ve said it before—you two have the most messed-up love lives of all seven of us.”

Jaemin turned to Mark and Hyunjin, offended. “Did you hear that? I don’t have a messed-up love life…”

“Oh sure,” Mark smirked. “Breaking up with your girlfriend so you could date her best friend? Totally healthy.”

“I broke up with her,” Jaemin said as if it were obvious. “Better than cheating—I still have my principles!”

“Sure, Jaemin. We’ll revisit this tomorrow.” Mark sighed, turning to leave.

“And no one’s going to tell me about Renjun’s girl?” Hyunjin complained.

Mark and Jaemin exchanged a glance and grinned.

“Mind your own business, Hyunjin,” Mark said, walking out.

“A man with too much time on his hands…” Jaemin muttered, chuckling as Hyunjin’s grumbled curses followed them out.

After navigating Jeno’s car with hurried directions and nearly causing a crash, you both arrived at your family’s company. Predictably, Minhyuk was with Hajoon.

The guards blocked you at the entrance.

“Excuse me?” you asked, incredulous.

“Apologies, ma’am. We have explicit orders not to let you in,” one of them said firmly.

Jeno placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, we should leave.”

You shook him off. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll cause a scene that’ll cost both of you your jobs. I may be disinherited, but my mother—who owns half of this company—would love to hear about this.”

The guards hesitated, fear flashing in their eyes, but they held their ground. Just as you inhaled to raise your voice, a familiar voice cut in.

“Stop this nonsense. Let them through.”

Amy—your father’s assistant—had always been kind. Like your mother, she never bought into Minhyuk’s lies.

“But, ma’am—” one guard began, but she silenced him.

“Do as I said. Mr. Kim is expecting them.”

As the guards stepped aside, you hurried to Amy’s side.

“You’re here for Minhyuk, aren’t you?” she asked as you moved toward the elevator.

“‘Here for’ is putting it lightly,” you muttered.

“She’s joking,” Jeno cut in quickly. “No hitting anyone today.”

Amy chuckled. “A good choice in company,” she teased, making both of you flush.

“We’re just—”

“Friends,” you both said simultaneously.

Ah, young love, Amy thought, smiling knowingly.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the soft background music that played in the room. As soon as the doors opened, Amy spoke up, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“He’s in your brother’s old office.”

“What?” Your frustration with Minhyuk had already been simmering from everything happening in your life, but now… your anger extended to your father as well.

“After your brother stepped down, he gave the office to... him. I’m sorry…” Amy trailed off. You didn’t respond, simply reached into your bag for your phone and marched straight toward the office.

Throwing the doors open with force, you startled Minhyuk, causing a few papers to flutter to the ground. He was reading over some contracts.

“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped, hurriedly gathering the documents before standing up.

“No, but you must be, testing the limits of my patience like this.” You weren’t one to raise your voice or pick fights. Confrontations had never been your style—until you rebelled against your father. And if you could go head-to-head with him, dealing with someone like Minhyuk was child’s play.

“Quite the audacity, don’t you think?” Minhyuk sneered, circling his desk to approach you, but Jeno swiftly stepped in front of him. “Ah, so now you’ve got a guard dog too?” He laughed mockingly. “You barge into my office with your little lover in tow... truly lacking decorum.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. You needed a moment to process his words. The tension between Jeno and Minhyuk thickened, the air practically vibrating with animosity. Then your laughter rang out, shattering the quiet. Both men turned to you, confused.

“Do you really think slandering me will get you what you want, Minhyuk? The company? Hajoon’s share? Because, let me assure you, my mother’s portion isn’t up for grabs.” Your smile didn’t waver. “I’ve figured out your plan, ever since my mother told me you attended the family meeting about the marriage and claimed I was on board with everything. Frankly, Minhyuk…” you sighed. “But this smear campaign? I’m curious—what’s your angle? Surely you’re not trying to turn the public against me for no reason… or are you?” You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement as they locked onto his. “Are you really that pathetic, trying to ruin a woman’s reputation just because she didn’t marry you?”

Jeno watched, perplexed, as you calmly dismantled Minhyuk’s facade. He didn’t fully understand your tactics, but one thing was certain—he wasn’t leaving you alone with this man. He barely knew him and wasn’t about to take chances.

“You think I’d let you walk away, all radiant and triumphant, after humiliating me like that?” Minhyuk’s voice quivered with barely controlled rage, his smirk gone. “You destroyed my career, my carefully laid plans. But if I destroy your reputation—turn everyone, even your parents, against you—I’ll get what I want. Your brother abandoned his post. You’d be disowned. It was the perfect plan. I didn’t expect you’d actually be cheating, though. Points for me—just look at who’s here.” He gestured at Jeno, who stood with arms crossed.

“Hey, jerk, keep running your mouth and I’ll make sure you end up in a hospital,” Jeno growled for the first time since entering the room. Minhyuk’s response was another derisive chuckle.

“Minhyuk,” you interrupted before the tension escalated further. A fight could wait — Jeno could send him to the hospital later if needed. “It doesn’t matter what you do. My mother controls most of the business, and guess what? She’s on my side.” You grabbed Jeno’s arm, leading him out. With a playful smirk, you blew Minhyuk a kiss. “I’d brace for a headline-worthy scandal this week!” you teased, winking before walking out.

“Care to explain?” Jeno asked as the elevator arrived.

You pulled your phone from your open bag, stopping the recording. “This, Jeno, is how I clean my name.” Your sly smile deepened as you bit your lower lip. The elevator doors closed, and you pressed the button for the ground floor. “A few months ago, I would have done nothing. I’d have waited for my mother or Jungwoo to handle it, as always.” You sighed, weariness weighing your voice. “But I’m done living like that. After this, I’m walking away. I’ll give up my inheritance, finish my degree, and leave this mess behind.” Bitterness lingered on your tongue as you spoke. The decision had barely settled in your mind, and already regret nipped at the edges of your resolve. How could you stay? How could you leave?

The car ride back was quiet until you reached for your phone, dialing Arin’s number.

“Finally, you’re alive! I had to call Joy to check if you were okay!” Her voice was a mix of relief and irritation, and you couldn’t blame her.

“Sorry, Arin. Everything exploded after the wedding. I’ve barely talked to anyone—just family, and now Minhyuk…” You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name.

“I saw his press conference online. What a psycho. Good thing you escaped. When I see him, though, I swear—”

You cut her off with a laugh. “I’m fine now. More than fine. But I called for a reason. I have an audio clip I need you to release. An article would be better, but a leak will do. Just make sure it hits the internet.” You sent her the file. “It’ll need some editing.”

Arin, a dedicated journalist for a respected firm, specialized in professional reporting. She’d climbed the ranks with sheer determination, earning her own column. Still, bending the rules for a friend didn’t hurt, right?

You heard her sharp intake of breath before she spoke again. “I can’t believe that scumbag.”

“And he won’t get away with it. Can you release it by the end of the week?” You knew it was a lot to ask—she was busy, and this wasn’t exactly her beat—but desperation called for boldness.

“Girl, I’ll get it out today!” The sound of furious typing reached your ears, filling you with hope. “I’m on it. But don’t think you’re getting away—I want the whole story later!” She hung up before you could even say goodbye. Honestly, how wasn’t she working for a gossip column?

Jeno glanced at your radiant smile. “I take it things went well?”

“They did,” you said, satisfaction lacing your voice as the car sped down the road.

"Yes! Arin is my friend, a journalist. She’s going to publish the audio along with a story. She said it might be out by today." Your enthusiasm was contagious.

"So, in the end, you didn’t even need me." He murmured playfully, feigning offense. His light-heartedness made you laugh as you squeezed his shoulder in gratitude.

"Oh, stop it. You were a huge help. If it weren’t for you, I might not have seen the article. And how else would I have confronted that weasel?" You smiled warmly at him, your eyes full of sincerity.

Night had fallen, bringing with it a weight of worry for Renjun. You hadn’t answered his messages, which was understandable given the accusations he had thrown at you—but Jeno wasn’t responding either. None of the guys, for that matter, and that only heightened his concern. The last update they had about Jeno was from that disastrous article, and it wasn’t like him to simply vanish.

A knock on the door made Renjun’s heart leap with hope, silently praying it was his friend. But nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

"I… came to return your clothes…" you murmured, lifting the bag. "And… maybe talk." You sounded far more timid than usual.

Renjun’s eyes didn’t leave you. Your style perfectly suited your figure, matching your personality in ways that had always mesmerized him. A smile tugged at his lips, and he stepped aside to invite you in.

"Look, I was a jerk in that message. I want to apologize." He closed the door behind you, his words rushed with guilt. "I didn’t mean to offend you like that. I was just… frustrated. I don’t even know why..."

You set the bag on a nearby shelf and approached him, a gentle smile on your face.

"I think I know why..." Your hand cupped his cheek in a soft, tender touch filled with warmth. "But… let me show you something first."

Reaching into your bag, you retrieved your phone, unlocked it, and turned it toward him.

It was Arin’s article. Published barely an hour ago, it was already going viral. Of course, your name, Jeno’s, and Minhyuk’s were at the heart of the buzz. Your lips curved into a proud smile—not just for yourself, but for your friend, who had pulled off this exposé in record time.

"See? He was lying. I’m not a traitor. I never even met Jeno before that day here."

Renjun’s gaze shifted from the screen to meet your eyes.

"I needed to show you, I—"

You were cut off as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms circling you with fierce protectiveness.

"I believe you," he murmured against your neck, his voice low and muffled. "I just got so upset because..." He pulled back, his eyes searching yours. "The thought of you with him… with anyone else, it tore me apart. And it’s crazy. I’m falling for you after only a day. I’m sorry." His voice cracked, tears pooling in his eyes. "I’ve never been a romantic, but… Jaemin said something about love at first sight. And now I feel like a fool."

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing gently over his cheekbones. Drawing closer, you rubbed your nose affectionately against his cheek.

"Jun…" you whispered, his name dripping with tenderness, making his heart swell. "Jeno talked to me, too. I think he and Jaemin might be on the same wavelength." You giggled softly, running your fingers through his soft hair. "He told me about love at first sight, too. Opened my eyes. And he said a certain someone got all pouty after I left..."

You sang the words with teasing delight as you pulled away.

Renjun watched you with wonder, his lips curling into a shy, almost bashful smile as his cheeks flushed pink. That timid grin made your heart flutter, a sigh escaping your lips.

Unable to hold back any longer, you threw your arms around him once more, drawing his delicate face toward yours and pressing your lips against his.

For a moment, he was too stunned to react, but when it finally hit him, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush together. The kiss was delicate, deliberate. Your fingers caressed the back of his neck as your lips moved in slow, perfect harmony with his. His hands slid beneath the hem of your short top, finding your bare skin. The warmth of his touch made you gasp softly.

"Jun..." you breathed his name, your voice trembling as his lips grazed your neck in slow, lingering kisses, each touch igniting a deeper burn beneath your skin. Your eyes remained shut, surrendering to the heat spreading through your body. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you as your knees turned weak beneath the onslaught of sensation.

"Don’t make me stop... please," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and uneven as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. You tugged at his hair, and a groan rumbled low in his throat, sending a shiver straight to your core.

"Then take me to bed... your windows aren’t covered," you teased, your voice low and dripping with playful temptation. His lips curved into a wicked smile as his teeth grazed your pulse point, making your body shudder.

Renjun didn’t wait. He guided you with unsteady steps toward the guest bedroom—his own was too far, and he wouldn’t risk losing another moment. His hands roamed freely over you, sliding your blazer from your shoulders with unrestrained hunger, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Your fingers traced the hard planes of his chest, reveling in the heat of his skin, before tugging impatiently at his shirt. He tore it off in one swift motion, baring himself to you, his gaze dark and full of desire.

You melted into the mattress beneath him as he lowered you down, his lips claiming yours again in a kiss that was raw, urgent, and unrelenting. His hand slipped beneath your skirt, gliding up your thigh with deliberate slowness, teasing you until his fingers brushed the damp heat between your legs.

"Are you sure I can?" His voice was hoarse, trembling with restraint as his eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable, his lips swollen from your kisses. His hair fell messily across his forehead, making him heartbreakingly beautiful.

"Yes, Jun... I want you," you whispered without hesitation, your voice trembling with longing as your eyes stayed locked on his.

A soft curse fell from his lips as he slid his fingers beneath your panties, his touch finding you already slick with need. A groan of satisfaction escaped him as he felt your wetness, his fingers circling your swollen clit before slipping inside with aching precision. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you with practiced care, his hand moving with a rhythm designed to unravel you.

You rocked your hips into his hand, your body begging for more. He understood—oh, he understood perfectly—and his pace quickened, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. Pleasure coiled low in your belly, sharp and consuming, as your moans filled the room, each one pushing him higher with pride and lust.

The sound of your pleasure was everything. He had never felt so intoxicated, so lost in the power of making someone fall apart for him. You were his, and he would prove it over and over again, all night if he had to—until there was nothing left but the sound of his name on your lips.

Just as your orgasm hovered at the edge, his fingers withdrew. The sudden emptiness made you whimper in frustration, your body trembling, your eyes heavy with need. Renjun grinned, wicked and full of mischief, as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he tasted you, his tongue swirling around his fingertips with a hum of pure pleasure.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. You were his perfect indulgence, the sweetest addiction he’d ever known.

He made quick work of your shirt and panties, his gaze darkening as he took in your bare body. Heat crept into your cheeks, a flicker of shyness in your chest, but Renjun left no room for shame. His touch worshiped you, his eyes devoured you like you were a vision made for him alone.

He knelt between your thighs, spreading them gently but firmly. A sigh escaped him—deep, reverent—as he pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, savoring the moment before lowering himself further.

Then his mouth was on you.

His tongue licked a long, slow path through your folds, tasting every inch of you as though you were the rarest, most exquisite thing he had ever had the privilege of devouring. Your breath caught, and your fingers twitched in his hair, but you were too weak to hold on.

When he sucked your clit, just hard enough, your back arched, a cry ripping from your throat as your body convulsed. His name spilled from your lips, again and again, a chant, a prayer, a plea.

Renjun was relentless. The world faded. There was no time, no thought—only him, only pleasure, only the stars bursting behind your eyes as he unraveled you completely, again and again.

Your body trembled as the pressure within you built higher, the crest of your orgasm drawing nearer with every flick and swirl of his tongue. A desperate prayer echoed in your mind—please don’t stop, not again. He seemed to hear your unspoken plea. His tongue thrust deep inside you, curling, stroking with languid, deliberate intensity that made you whimper and moan in pure abandon.

The tension shattered, a wave of release crashing over you as bliss and calmness flooded every nerve. You cried out softly, your body melting into the mattress as the world dissolved into sensation. Renjun groaned against you, his tongue savoring the sweet, sticky essence of your pleasure. His lips and tongue worked meticulously, devouring you until there wasn’t a trace left, kissing the delicate skin of your thighs like a man utterly intoxicated.

He kissed his way upward, his mouth mapping a trail of reverent worship—across your trembling stomach, the curve of your breasts, until finally capturing your lips in a kiss so deep it stole your breath. The taste of yourself on his tongue only heightened the heat between you, making the kiss more intimate, more forbidden, more perfect.

“I don’t think I can live like before now that I’ve tasted you,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

A weak, breathless giggle escaped you as you basked in the afterglow. “You’ve made me your addiction.”

He chuckled, nipping at your neck, his lips brushing over your shoulders, leaving trails of warmth in his wake.

Your hands, still trembling, rested on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. With a playful push, you rolled him beneath you, straddling him. The spark in his eyes ignited, a mixture of amusement and pure, unfiltered desire lighting his face. The sight made your heart race—Renjun, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so yours.

You let your body tease you both, dragging your sore, sensitive core slowly over the hard ridge of his clothed arousal. The friction was electric, drawing a shared, shuddering moan from your lips as his hips bucked instinctively beneath you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice heavy with need as his hands gripped your hips. He held you firmly but reverently, as if you were both fragile and the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

Every movement of your body sent shockwaves through him, yet he refused to close his eyes. He couldn’t bear to miss a single second—the sight of your flushed, glowing skin, your parted lips still swollen from his kisses, and the way you writhed above him, utterly lost in your shared pleasure.

You moved together, lost in each other, and the world beyond you ceased to exist. There was only this—only him, only you, only the endless rhythm of need and passion and love.

When your movements stilled, Renjun let out a soft, frustrated whimper, his brows furrowing in need. But as he realized what you intended, his expression shifted—desire darkened his eyes as he lifted his hips to help you strip away the last barrier between you. His pants and underwear hit the floor with a soft thud, leaving him gloriously bare before you.

Your breath caught.

Renjun lay there, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat that only heightened his beauty. Your gaze drifted lower, following the lines of his stomach until it settled on him—his cock, flushed and needy, the swollen tip already glistening with arousal. A bead of it pooled just above his navel, and the sight alone made your mouth water.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, part awe, part hunger.

You climbed onto the bed, your hands trembling slightly as they wrapped around his length, feeling the heat of him against your palm. He twitched at your touch, a strangled gasp leaving his mouth. Slowly, reverently, you leaned down, your tongue darting out to catch the trail of arousal that had dripped onto his skin. The taste of him sent a shiver down your spine—salty, heady, intoxicating.

You flicked your gaze upward, watching his face as you took him into your mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting in a silent gasp. His fists clenched the sheets beneath him, his knuckles whitening as he fought to keep still when the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. The restraint, the tenderness, the pure, unselfish desire to never cause you harm made your heart thud wildly.

And then, unbidden, thoughts of Minhyuk crept into your mind—how selfish he had been, how little he had cared for your pleasure. The contrast was stark, almost cruel. Renjun’s passion, his overwhelming affection, his every action was a testament to how deeply he cherished you. The realization tightened your chest, and without meaning to, your eyes welled with tears.

You blinked them away quickly, grateful that he was too lost in bliss to notice.

Focusing once more, you hollowed your cheeks, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm that left him gasping. You cupped his balls, heavy and full, rolling them gently in your hand while your tongue danced along the underside of his cock. His hips twitched involuntarily, and a strangled groan escaped him.

The sounds he made—the breathless whimpers, the way he chanted your name like a prayer—were a symphony of raw, unfiltered need.

You felt him pulse against your tongue, the telltale quiver of impending release. With a final swirl around his sensitive head, you sucked him deep, teasing the slit with your tongue. His body went taut, and a shuddered cry of your name tore from his lips as he spilled into your mouth. The heat, the salty rush of him filled you, and you swallowed without hesitation, relishing how he writhed beneath you.

As his orgasm ebbed, his eyes found yours. He chuckled softly, watching the little grimace that flitted across your face at the bitter taste.

“Cute,” he murmured, his voice still thick with pleasure.

His hand reached for you, and you crawled into his embrace, straddling him once more. The heat between your bodies lingered, and as he pulled you down into a slow, searing kiss, there was no room for anything but him. His passion consumed you, and you gave yourself to it completely.

"Are you tired?" you whispered, your fingers brushing gently over his cheek as he pressed soft kisses to your knuckles, his lips lingering like a lover’s vow.

"Not even close, love," he murmured, a slow, teasing smile curving his mouth. His eyes glimmered with warmth, and you felt your heart race as he drew you in deeper. "We have all night… I’m definitely not worried."

His words, low and sultry, sent a spark of heat through you, and a soft laugh bubbled from your lips just as he rolled you beneath him. His body hovered over yours, his presence surrounding you, intoxicating and irresistible.

Then his lips found yours again—hungry, tender, and overwhelming. The kiss was more than a touch; it was a confession, an unspoken declaration of love and need. Your tongues tangled, a slow and fevered dance that left you breathless, your desire simmering like wildfire between you. His hands roamed your body as though committing every inch to memory, and with every stroke of his lips, every caress, you melted further into the sheer ecstasy of him.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist | series masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip @ayukas @leleszn @mystverse @prologue-ae @lovesuhng @haechanahceah67 @jeonghansshitester @hyusun @ncthoe69 @dawntyun @snowyseungs @bunnysoonie @aracgio @rubiiisyeon @t-102 @yesohhsehun @lovesuhng @kookssecret @richachaslide @nanawrlds @imlonelydontsendhelp @taeflwr @peanutbutterjam505 @heavenjae @lillotus @lotushoto

[writemekpop]

Naked | Lee Jeno

Summary: You catch your best friend Jeno shirtless and he gets shy. Your teasing turns into something more...

Genre: Suggestive, Fluff

Word count: <1k

You heard Jeno's flip flops as he wandered into your room.

“Y/n?” he called, his voice weirdly gruff. “Can I - um - borrow some pyjamas? I forgot to bring any.”

You looked up from where you were scrolling on your bed. “What? Why?”

A laugh tickled your throat. Jeno was shirtless, and hugging a long pillow to hide his chest.

“Why are you shy?” you said, prodding the pillow, and making him curse. “I've known you since you were 12.”

“Yeah, well, I look a little different now,” Jeno said, blushing a deep purple.

“Jesus,” you said, walking over to your dresser. “I don't know why you're like this, Jeno. Aren't you naked all the time in magazines and NCT Dream stuff?”

“That's different,” Jeno said.

You threw him some pyjamas, which he caught in one hand.

“I mean,” you said naughtily, “I could just Google ‘Jeno shirtless’ right now.”

Jeno's mouth dropped. “You wouldn't.”

You got out your phone, chuckling. You opened the search page, and started typing.

You weren't really going to do it - but suddenly, Jeno tackled you head on, trying to grab the phone.

The full weight of his body hit yours, pushing you back onto your bed, breathless. The pillow fell onto the floor, forgotten.

Jeno snatched the phone from your fingers. “Aha! Got… it.”

His voice trailed off as he realised that his bare chest was pressed against yours, your hands grabbing his waist. His skin was hot and surprisingly firm against you. You could feel him panting against you.

Neither of you moved.

Jeno's eyes flashed to your lips.

You were about to move your hand off Jeno, but he quietly said, “Don't.”

Your heart wobbled. “Don’t what?”

“Don't move,” he repeated.

You stroked up his waist, and down the strong curves of his bicep, fingers trembling. Jeno pushed himself up onto his elbows, and gently smoothed the hair out of your face.

You saw him grin slightly.

“What is it?” you said.

Jeno chuckled. “Nothing. I just realised that… I forgot to be shy.”

“You should be,” you said, your voice a little rough. “We used to have baths together. I've seen your you-know-what.”

Jeno laughed, his eyes scrunching up in the carefree way you loved. “Like I said before.” He winked. “I look a little different now.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[belovedhoon]

you send dream a nsfw meme- nct dream

paring: nct dream description: text smau where y/n sends a dirty meme to dream contains: nsfw meme, sugg convos, cursing (MDNI) taglist: @shypen @st1llm0nster

Jaemin-

Jeno-

Haechan-

Mark-

Renjun-

Chenle-

Jisung-

A/N: Sorry the pic in Mark's looks weird idk what happened..Hope you guys enjoyed nevertheless! Lemme know what you guys think! Also you guys can send in requests for text fics/smaus! <3

[prettyhaechan]

dom!haechan x sub!reader | 18+ (minor dni), smut, fingering, rough(?) sex, a bit mean dom, pussy eating, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty doll), non-idol, established relationship

"hm, yeah? you like that, sweetheart?" donghyuck asks, chuckling deeply as he curls his finger inside you, teasing your sweet spot again and again.

"god..." donghyuck groan. "you hear that? so fucking wet for me, so good for hyuckie." he placed a peck on your lips, picking up the pace.

"pussy so tight and wet for me, you like what i'm doing, hm? playing with this pretty pussy and making you all feel good, baby? c'mon, answer me, or i'll stop and leave you here." donghyuck threatened, "do you want me to stop?" he stilled his fingers inside you.

"please, no— don't stop, i'm sorry..." you whimpered, legs shaking and dripping at the sheets.

"that's not the answer i want." donghyuck clicked his tongue disapprovingly and started moving his fingers once again, earning a cry from you. "do. you. like. it?" he asks again, thrusting his fingers roughly at each word.

"...like it..." you whimpered.

"good girl..." the corner of donghyuck's lips curved up, fingers picking up its pace.

"please, don't stop..." you begged and clenched around his digits. "please..."

donghyuck chuckled, "don't worry, baby, i won't stop until i have you crying." he assured. "now i wonder what my pretty doll tastes." without warning, he buried his face between your thighs as his fingers worked wonders inside your walls, lapping and sucking from your clit to your hole and groaning to the sweet and salty taste your pussy leaks. "still so fucking good, i would do this all night if you let me to."

[darkficslover]

Did his parents set him on blind date with reader?😭 btw I love it!! He actually loves it when reader struggles against him

18+ mdni.

(soft) toxic bf!jaehyun :c

warnings: dubcon, coercion, slight breeding kink.

based on this ask <3

.

you trace your finger over the bruise on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, pressing down enough to make it hurt. you look at your reflection in the mirror one last time, ready to go to bed. you walk out of the bathroom and enter the bedroom, seeing jaehyun’s form already under the covers.

you approach the bed, lifting up the bed sheets before climbing on. you sit down, but jaehyun suddenly catches your waist, bringing you down underneath him. 

his lips find yours almost immediately and you’re caught off guard. you whine into the kiss, putting your hand on his shoulder and pushing him off of you, but jaehyun only tightens his hold around your waist, pinning you down to the mattress.

your push falters, your hand staying on him as an indication of your resistance, but you give up pretty soon, reluctantly accepting it. 

he pulls back one second, looking into your eyes, his gaze trailing down to your kiss-swollen lips. he seems entranced by the sight, his eyes softening, until he dives down as quickly as he pulled back, cupping your cheek.

jaehyun gently nibbles on your bottom lip, delighted to hear you whine helplessly. he goes down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in the way. you shudder under him, a mix of desire and reluctance, one of your hands sliding down his arm, laying on top of his on your waist.

you attempt to remove it from you, but he holds you even closer to him, grunting against you in disapproval. “shhh. relax, baby, just relax…” he mumbles into your neck, his hot breath sending shivers up your spine. 

he bites particularly hard into your flesh, sucking the skin into his mouth, knowing he wants to leave his mark on you again, as if you didn’t have enough already. he paws at your breasts, kneading the flesh under his rough hand, making you let out a breathy moan. you push at his shoulder a second time, but he doesn’t seem to care.

his palm then descends to your thigh, fingertips gliding along it, sneaking under the hem of your nightgown. he grips your hip with the other, rubbing his bulge over your clothed pussy. that’s when you put more effort into getting him off of you, using your two hands to sit up, but jaehyun is very adamant on keeping you there, pinning your hips back down. 

you feel your eyes getting wet as he drags your panties down in one swift movement, eagerly lowering his sweats down, freeing his cock out. you don’t even have the time to get a glimpse of it before he’s pushing at your entrance, a small, surprised gasp escaping your parted lips. 

“jae,” you whisper, blinking to get the tears out of your eyes, rolling gracefully down to the side of your face. 

he thrusts up to the hilt, groaning in satisfaction. his gaze shifts to you, watching in awe, almost adoration, the way your eyes shine under the dim light of the nightstand lamp. 

“yeah, keep crying for me, baby,” he purrs, “so pretty.”

he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking, rolling his hips over yours at a slow, languid pace. you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, warm and stiff, always hitting the right spots. 

you’re so conflicted when it comes to jaehyun. yes, he’s your boyfriend, but your relationship was forced, arranged in a way. 

jaehyun didn’t like you at first, way too sensitive, too prude, too shy. too soft in general. he couldn’t disappoint his parents, though, so he followed their advice, which was courting you. but he learned to like you, grew to appreciate—even love—this timid side of you, the one that struggles to say no, who keeps fighting but gives in oh so easily. 

it’s sweet, he thinks, each time he pulls you to him, kisses your lips until you’re dumb, and listens to the cries of his name. you’re sweet. 

and so he continues to split your pussy open with his cock, having you so close to him he can sense the heaves of your chest every time you take in a deep, sobbing breath. you shudder under him, legs trembling until he makes you cum around him, and he eventually releases himself inside of you as well, hoping your belly will grow swollen with his baby.

[astrasng]

Can you do some Haechan bf texts pls?

HAECHAN BF TEXTS ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

→ warning: cursing,petnames,sarcasm, mention of smut

→ a/n: i love arguing w haechan through fake texts lmao also pls ignore the glitches and the time differences IM STILL STRUGGLING

enjoy!♡

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

tags 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ : @tmrwsuns @arunainluv

[withlovemark]

9:41

warnings: smut! female receiving, oral, fingering

haechan! who wants you to keep your eyes on him as he goes down on you. his tongue licks through your folds, tasting you and you can’t help but release a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact. haechan hums in approval, the vibration sending tingles down to your toes, “hmmm, you taste so good,” smirking against your wet pussy as he continues to swirl around your sensitive bud, enjoying every second. you push your hips up, hand clutching his hair, wanting to feel more, “what do you want, baby?,” he teases, “use your words,” he moans into your pretty pussy, eyes still on you, “y-your fingers,” you whine under shaky breaths and he nods, giving you what you asked for. one of his fingers enters your hole, testing the waters, going in and out and you can’t help but gasp at the intrusion. he enters a second finger, curling it in the way that has you whining for air, eyes rolling back as the pleasure builds in your stomach and then everything stops.

“haechan-,” you sigh in frustration, you were so close. “i told you to keep your eyes on me,” he demands and you nod frantically, apologizing in whines, “it just feels soo good,” “i know baby but keep looking at me or im not letting you cum,” and you have no other choice but to obey his order, eyes locked on his. he continues where he left off, fingers hitting that spot repetitively as his tongue continues to work their wonders on your clit, your insides tingling again. you’re so focused in trying to refuse the instinct to give into pleasure and roll your eyes back that you forgot to breathe properly, just gasps of moans coming from your slacked jaw. haechan smirks against your pussy, loving the way he has got you breathless under his touch. “breathe, baby,” he reminds you, you follow, “you’re so good for me,” he praises and you don’t know how long you can last anymore, pussy sucking in haechans long fingers, “you can cum now,” he instructed, your body quick to follow, eyes rolling back as the orgasm took over you.

an: another haechan bcs yall seem to be in love with him and, well, i am too! >.< (p.s. currently working on the requests in my ask box, ty for sending)

[lyvhie]

okay hi haechan anon again!! im back with another request! so I'm missing my taeyong a lot (hashtag military wife..) and I was listening to 2 baddies as any baddie would and. the line "now you wanna ride these wheels" had my legs FOLDED 🥴 those wheels aren't the only thing I wanna ride.

and that brings me to my request. riding tyongie pretty pretty please???

── .✦ everybody makes mistakes

ex-bf!lee taeyong x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: You were going through a busy time in your life, and going to a party was supposed to help you relax a little and... Well, your ex certainly turned out to be a good distraction. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, riding, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie because why not 😞, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HIIII, ANOOOON!!! GLAD YOU'RE STILL HERE 😚😚 i get you... i feel like we are 12949 years without tyong, we need him back ASAP, i can't have a happy life if taeyong isn't here PLEASE. ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE!

This was definitely not part of the plan. It was supposed to be a fun night at your friend's party—a chance to unwind and forget about the chaos that had taken over your life lately. Honestly, you hadn’t even planned on coming, but your friends had insisted, saying some fresh air would do you good. You finally caved, figuring what was the harm?

Wrong decision.

If you had known your ex-boyfriend would be there, you’d have stayed home.

You thought you were over him, it had been months since the breakup, after all. There was no reason to panic, you told yourself. Besides, he hadn’t even seemed to notice you were there. You could enjoy the night without a care. Or so you thought.

Your eyes kept drifting to him, as if drawn by some invisible force. Watching how he moved through the crowd, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in people’s ears, flashing that smile that used to make your heart race. The same smile he was now directing at others.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. Focus on your drink. Your friends. Literally anything else, you told yourself, desperate to ignore the annoying tightness in your chest every time you caught sight of him leaning in close to someone else. But it was no use.

You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it. His eyes were on you, burning with that same intensity you’d once found irresistible. Against your better judgment, you glanced over and instantly regretted it.

There he was, lips curling into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing expression that only made your stomach twist further. And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke, he started walking toward you.

Your heart skipped, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever your friends were laughing about. You even forced out a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing.

Taeyong, of course, wasn’t fooled. He thought it was cute, how bad you were at subtlety, how transparent you always were when you tried to act cool, just as he remembered. If anything, it made him want to reach you faster.

From the moment he approached you and murmured a soft “hey,” everything became a haze, your senses drowning in the intensity of his presence. You remembered the way he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and familiar, dripping with charm as he told you how much he missed you, how surprised he was to see you there when he knew this wasn’t your usual scene.

His hand had found its way to your waist, his touch firm but not forceful, as if asking for permission rather than demanding it. You hadn’t stopped him. The heat of his body pressed against yours was both comforting and electric, stirring something in you that you thought had long been buried.

Every subtle gesture—a thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way his gaze never wavered from yours—pulled you deeper into the gravity of his orbit. You knew you should step back, but instead, you let yourself lean into the closeness, into him, even though you both knew exactly where this would lead.

And all of it led to a kiss, slow, as if to test the waters, then deepening with the kind of urgency that only old lovers can share. That kiss led to lovely whispers and stolen touches, and before you knew it, you were in the parking lot, your heart pounding as he opened the door to the backseat of his car.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he pulled you close, his hands finding your waist like they never forgot the shape of you. It was reckless and impulsive, the kind of decision that you knew you’d question later—but right now, with his lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you, it felt like the only decision to make.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he held you down against him. His mouth was relentless, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. Your hips began to move instinctively, a slow grind against him that drew a deep groan from his lips. The confined space of the car only heightened the heat between you, every movement feeling more intense, more urgent in the close quarters.

You felt his hands slip to the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but you stopped him just in time, pulling away from the kiss, both of you panting softly.

"This is a bad idea," you whispered, though your body leaned into his, contradicting your words.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made your resolve waver. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you tried to reason, though your hands remained on him, your touch lingering.

“You can blame the alcohol if it helps," he suggested, his lips tracing a path up to your jaw before capturing your mouth again. You didn't resist, kissing him back.

"I didn't drink that much," you argued softly.

"Then blame me," his hand drifting lower, inching toward the space between your legs, sending a wave of anticipation through you. "You're always good at that."

"Shut up," you retorted, nipping at his lower lip, earning a hiss and a soft chuckle from him. “Tell me to stop," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his lips hovering just above yours. "And I will, pretty.”

Yes, you just needed to say the word and get out of his car. Of course, that would be the right thing to do, but... you were already this far.

You would blame him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this," you muttered before crashing your lips against his again, kissing him more fervently than before, grinding against him harder, his bulge applying just the right amount of pressure against your core.

Your hands fumbled with the button of his pants, a mix of nerves and anticipation guiding your movements. He was quick to undo yours in return, his desperation evident as he helped you, pulling his pants down just enough while you slipped out of yours along with your panties, leaving no barriers between you.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you over him, one of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other slid down, wrapping around his hard cock. It throbbed under your touch, and he let out a soft moan at the slightest contact. You stroked him slowly, savoring the way he responded, before lowering yourself just enough to let the tip brush along your slick slit.

He groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, urging you to stop teasing. "Don't play with me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of control you had over him, but your own need was overwhelming.

With a soft exhale, you slowly sank down onto him, both of you gasping as he stretched you, filling you completely. Fuck, how he missed this—the feeling of your warm heat enveloping him, just as tight as he remembered. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, his breath hot against your skin.

“You feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You missed this feeling too, the delicious stretch of him inside you, your walls fluttering around him, as if your body was echoing the same sentiment. He bit your neck to muffle a moan, the sound vibrating through you.

And for a few seconds, you both stayed like that, motionless, just reveling in the feeling of him taking up all the space in your pussy. Then, slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips over him before lifting yourself just enough and sinking back down, drawing moans from both of you. His hands slid down to cup your ass, fingers digging in as he followed your movements, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan.

Your movements were slow at first, teasing, but you quickly found your rhythm, pressing down on him, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body. The heat between you was unbearable, the cramped space of the car amplifying every sound—the wet glide of your bodies, the breathless moans, the creak of the leather seat beneath you.

His hands moved back to your waist and his grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh as he urged you to move faster. You picked up speed, setting a pace that felt good for you, making him gasp with each roll of your hips.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, lifting his head to watch where your bodies met, eyes dark with hunger. "Just like that... take me deeper."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as you obeyed, bouncing harder, grinding down to feel every inch of him. The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, stealing what little self-control you had left. His hands left your hips, moving up your body, dragging your shirt up to expose more of your skin.

“Fuck, look at you," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around him.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he thrust up into you slightly, meeting your movements. "Shit—keep that up, and I won't last," he warned, voice strained. But you didn't stop. You couldn't. You were too close, too lost in the way he filled you perfectly, the way his body fit against yours like he was made for you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you, the heat between you both intensifying. Just as he had said, he wouldn’t last much longer. It wasn't just because it felt incredible, but because it was you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, almost a plea, his thighs tensing beneath you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, every little sound he made pushing you closer to the edge too, but you weren’t there yet.

You didn’t need to say anything; your body said enough. The way you moved, the way you squeezed him with every roll of your hips—it was too much. His grip on you tightened as he groaned deep, his body shuddering beneath you as he came, his release spilling inside you as you kept moving, letting him ride it out.

But he didn’t stop there—you still needed to finish too, and now it was his turn to take care of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck. Even with his body still trembling from his own release, he started moving again, thrusting up into you with deep, desperate strokes.

A shaky whine escaped his lips as the overstimulation hit him, but he didn’t let up, his grip on you firm, determined. “Gotta make you feel good too,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, breathless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper despite the sensitivity. His name spilled from your lips, hands fisting in his hair as he held you close, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was hot against your neck, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate, but he didn’t stop—not until he had you right where he wanted. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble around him.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, voice hoarse, lips brushing your ear. Your grip on him tightened as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, the pressure building with every stroke, every thrust. His name tumbled from your lips, breathless and needy, and he groaned at how good you sounded.

And then, with one more deep, well-angled thrust, pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed before melting into his, a broken moan leaving your lips as your release washed through you. He groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his arms holding you steady as you rode out your high.

Even as your body sagged against his, he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breaths ragged, shaky. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, tracing slow circles on your back as he helped you come down.

It wasn’t the smartest decision, you knew that. But, in that moment, you felt... satisfied.

You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes. Your friends had been right, maybe you did need to let go of the weight on your shoulders and relax a little.

"Wanna come home?"

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[revehae]

ghost (r. fantasies)

warnings: masturbation, grave desecration, kind of angst

wc. 742

heeseung version posted on my enha blog @/ireverie. i am not plagiarizing myself guys

haechan misses you.

he can’t take it anymore. nights spent skin-to-skin with you in his arms, nights spent with your body on top of his as you rolled your hips, nights spent with him panting in your ear as you rode the soul out of him all taken away in one second before he even got the chance to say goodbye.

three whole months have gone by since then and to him, it still feel yesterday. one minute, he was confident he would come home to you waiting for him like you always did, and the next, he got that phone call.

haechan fists his cock as he perches on your grave, jean-clad knees stained with dirt. he doesn’t care. cheap denim jeans are replaceable; you aren’t. he tries to touch himself the way he remembers you doing it, picturing your warm, soft hands and pretty, gem-embedded nails wrapped around his cock.

his eyes flutter closed. you would start slow and steady, looking into his eyes as you pumped him, smiling up at him with your gorgeous, enticingly sweet eyes. haechan moans at the thought. you always knew exactly what what to do to make him lose his mind. only after he got all worked up, tip leaking profusely with precum, would you finally go faster.

haechan speeds up. his eyes snap open for a moment, glancing around to make sure he’s alone. it’s the middle of the night, no one should be around unless, much like him, they’re a freak in violent need of help. sensing no one, he allows himself to close his eyes again and resume the image of you in his head, eagerly jerking him off.

the tip of his heavy, aching cock is sticky with precum that coats the palm of his hand. it covers his whole shaft as he inadvertently smears it everywhere, rapid palm lubricating his cock the way your mouth would. you used to love that about him; he always comes so much.

“fuck,” he groans louder than intended, the very thought making his dick twitch in painful delight, in sweet yearning.

haechan desperately wants to go even quicker, but he forces himself to have some kind of restraint, wanting to do this the way he knows you would if you were still here with him where you belong instead of six feet underground.

at first, it was chilly outside to haechan. but now the cool, crisp air goes unnoticed as the scalding heat burns his sensitive ears down to his flushed cheeks down to his bobbing neck. you would, he remembers, nibble at the flesh behind his ears, kiss his soft cheeks, and suck at the quick, throbbing pulse in the base of his neck.

“calm down, hyuck,” you would tell him, giggling in his ear. god, he loved that sound. he still does. he would give anything to hear it again, one last time.

he sheds the jacket, feeling suffocated by how increasingly hot his body is getting, and tosses it onto the ground. haechan knows he’s close, that’s the only reason he’s making himself be patient. you never wanted to finish him too quickly unless you were impatient yourself. you liked to to draw it out, to make him wait.

it was fair, haechan thinks. he was always so busy, so caught up with work and the like that he rarely had time to spend with you. it was only fair that you made him ache just the way you did when he was gone for days, sometimes weeks on end. 

haechan wishes he would have gone about things differently. had he known his days with you would be numbered, he would have dropped everything to spend every available second with you. he would have never taken time with you for granted.

but he can’t hold back anymore. he needs to come. he needs you, but he knows that this as close as he will ever get to feeling you again. he teeth sink into his bottom lip a little too hard as he releases with a moan of your name followed by curses, shooting ropes of cum onto the nature-weathered stone of your grave and the dirt in front.

haechan breathes for a while, relaxing. he glances around, but still spots no one. then, he glances back at your grave, a heavy pang in his heart. 

“come back,” he whispers wistfully, knowing you can’t hear him, but hoping you can.

[haechanhues]

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter twenty six : confessions

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[marydoyouwrite]

Swim to You

PAIRING: idol!johnny mermaid!reader idol!chenle

GENRE: smut, angst, bit of fluff because Chenle is being a cute friend

SUMMARY: While on overseas tour, Johnny gets into an accident in the sea. He wakes up not remembering what happened and little does he know, someone swims half the world to follow him.

WARNINGS: overstimulation, Johnny has corruption kink, pussy eating, unprotected sex

I'm sorry if this is long! I couldn't give up the plot I had in mind.

9.6k word count

+++

You hate the winter sea. You hate how cold the waters feel on your skin. And most importantly, you hate how you can't see much people on the shore during this time of the year.

Being the youngest mermaid in the family had its fair share of both perks and frustrations. One perk is how everyone goes out of their way to give you what you want. You enjoy the attention and you love the endless affection you receive from your sisters and parents.

One frustration is how overly protective everyone is. While your sisters have gone in and out of the waters plenty of times, you're stuck with sight seeing atop one of your favorite boulders in the sea. You haven't been on land and your human legs have never seen the light of day.

Meanwhile, your sisters have experienced everything there is to experience outside the waters. You heard they've joined human parties, drank human drinks, and kissed humans. And you die from envy. Sure, you can escape. It's not as if every inch of the sea is guarded. But you're not the rebellious type. Every time you think of going behind your family's back, guilt knocks some sense into you. With all the love you receive from your family, you can't find it in you to rebel and betray their trust. You just hope that one day, they could trust you, too.

So you settle on sight seeing within the waters. It's fun watching people. But tonight? The beach is empty and you blame it on the cold weather.

As you're about to turn back, a person's figure catches your eye. You squint a little bit and you see that it's a man. So you stay for a bit more to watch him. He's fully clothed from top to bottom, which isn't usual for people wanting to take a swim. But you suppose its because its cold.

He walks further into the sea and your heart picks up a pace. You're not sure why, but you attribute it to the weirdness of this person's actions. It's dark, it's cold, and he doesn't look like he just wants to take a swim.

As he walks even further, you duck a little bit to hide yourself and you see that there's some confusion on his face. His brows are all scrunched up and it looks like he's trying to find something.

As you continue to watch him, you're made uncomfortable by how far from the shore he already is. You scan the land and there's no one else with him. When all you can see is his head and he's still walking, you scream as a huge wave comes and suddenly envelopes him.

"No!"

And for a while you hesitate. Where is he? Can he swim? Has he died? Should I rescue him? You don't know! This is the first time you're going to come extremely close to a person. What if he gets scared of you and try to kill you?

"Fuck it!"

You fight against your hesitation and swim to where he is. You look form him under water and you saw that he was being taken away by the current so fast. You swim even faster to reach him, silently hoping your hesitation didnt kill him. When you reach him, you grab him by his arms and bring him back to shore. Not where he came from, but somewhere near a cave where you're not in the open. You can't afford to be in the open.

As you reach the dry portion of the cave, your beautiful golden tail disappears and it's replaced by two weird looking body parts. You're weirded out by the feel and sensation and you're a bit confused as to how they work but you decide its not your priority at the moment.

With a bit of a wobble, you walk closer to the man and put your ear near his chest. You hear a faint sound of his heart beat but you dont see the rise and fall in his chest.

Your sisters taught you about this before. They said it'll come in handy at a time where a human is in an absolute urgent need for help. This is absolute right? And not breathing is urgent, right?

So you do what you remember and apply pressure on his chest with your hands. You pump down and pump up, not sure if you're doing it right. But when you hear him cough, you panic because he opens his eyes.

You're frozen in place, absolutely terrified of whats going to happen. So you did what you thought was best. You leave. But before going back to the sea, you looked at his face. Trying to remember every detail there is. You also took the necklace

he has in his hand as a reminder of the night.

As the water touches your feet, your tail is back and you swim forward. But not without looking back at the man who seemed to have caught your heart.

---

You're back in your room and you fiddle at the necklace you took from the man you saved. It was a silver ring put on a silver chain. There's nothing fancy about it, there was only an engraving that said, "J. S."

You sigh as you try to remember him. You're enamored by his face. The upward turn on the corners of his lips, his defined nose, and long lashes. How can a person look so good? You dont think you ever saw a merman that came close to his handsomeness!

Oh, you are smitten.

It is said that mermaids only fall in love once in their lifetime. They can end up marrying someone different from who they love and they will remain loyal to the person they vowed to spend their life with. However, their hearts will only beat for one, whether the love is returned or not.

And you dont want to end up with the latter! You would rather have your love returned, thank you very much. Because how cruel would it be to not have your love reciprocated.

You start to think if you can be brave. If you can get the blessing of your family to follow this man that has clearly captured both your eyes and heart.

And just as you were contemplating, Julie and Hanni, two of your sisters barge into your room.

"Rumor has it that someone snuck out into the shore!" Julie teases with a smirk

"Oh, I heard that rumor. They said the mermaid's name is Y/n!" Hanni continues.

"Are you going to tell mom and dad?"

"Of course we won't! But you have to tell us how it went."

And both your sisters nodded at you, urging you to spill what happened.

"It was terrible."

Hanni comes to you with a worried look on her face before asking, "Oh dear, what happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, it's just that.. I rescued a man from drowning."

"Oh okay? And is he alive?" asks Julie.

"Yeah, he is."

"So how is it terrible?"

"W-Well... I want to swim to him, follow to where he is."

"Oh..." both your sisters said in unison as they give you a worried look. With just one sentence, they understood. They know why it was terrible. There was only silence and the sound of the sea, until Julie breaks it.

"But it doesn't have to be terrible! Do you really really want to follow this man?"

"Yes. It's only been a while and all I can think about is him."

"Are you really set on doing this? Like really sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"Then let's go to mom and dad."

"Oh come on Julie! You cant be serious. You know they'll never agree! don't give y/n some false hope." Hanni scolds.

"No, I'm serious! You want this so bad? You cant give up without putting on a fight. If you talk to mom and dad, then I'll know you really want it. And if they dont agree, well then, we'll be here to cry with you. I know you'll never want to do anything without their blessings. So the first step is to try to get it."

As Julie finishes her speech, you can see that Hanni is still doubtful but have also gone on board Julie's idea. She's right. Your heart will be most at peace and most brave if you got your parents' approval on this. It'll give you courage.

"So, what say you?"

You look at the silver on your hand and hold it tight. "Okay, lets do it. Now."

---

The three of you swim straight to your parents' room. With Julie and Hanni beside you, you knock on their door.

"Who's it? Come in!"

You open the door and see your parents seated on the huge study table inside their room.

"Hi, mom. Hi, dad, it's me. And Julie and Hanni."

"Hi girls. What brings you here this late at night? Come sit with your dad and I." You swim to them and your sisters urge you to go ahead and plead your case.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Yes, princess?"

"I m-met a boy." At this first sentence, your dad looks at you with brewing confusion in his eyes that you have no doubt will turn into anger any minute now. Especially when you tell him your plan.

"And how did you meet this boy?" your dad inquires.

"I rescued him tonight."

"What?!"

"Oh, dear."

Your parents react at the same time. Your dad, out of anger and your mom, out of worry. You see that your mom reaches out to your dad to hold his arms, trying to calm him down.

"And I want to follow him."

"Oh you really did it now, y/n!" your dad is seething.

"But dad! It was urgent! He was caught in the waves and no one else was there. But I was. So I saved him. No one saw me and I left before he could wake up. I promise."

"Okay, you saved him. But now you're saying you want to follow him. There's no way in Hades you expect me to say yes to that, right?"

"But dad, mom. I wanted your blessing. If you say yes and let me, I'll be brave and courageous. I like him!"

"Like him? You've been with him for a minute! And he was unconscious. How do you know you like him?"

"I feel it in my heart. Really, dad, I do! Mom? Please?"

"Oh, don't use your tears on us now! There's nothing you can say that will make me agree to this! It's a dangerous world out there. You dont know how vile humans can be! Might as well ask me to throw you to the werewolves so they can kill you! At least there, death is the only outcome. With humans, death is the kindest punishment!"

"Marcus." Your mom interjects and touches your dad's face. This seems to calm your dad down for a little bit.

"Michaella, talk some sense into your daughter. None of this nonsense anymore." And with that, your dad storms out of the room and Julie and Hanni follow him. Probably to try and talk to him some more.

"Mom..."

"I'm sorry darling, but your dad is right. We hope we can tell you the opposite. That the human world is a safe place you can always go to. But that's just not the reality. Humans are unpredictable. And also, how will you know where to go? You haven't even spoken to the man."

"But mom, I'd rather learn how cruel the world is than to experience the cruelty of never knowing whether there's a chance for my love to be returned. I love you all the most and my heart will only be at peace if I know that my family is behind me as I pursue the person I like."

You wipe the tears from your eyes and slowly retreat back to your room. You hold on to the necklace that will now just be a little memento of the once in a lifetime love you have for man you'll never meet again.

---

Hours turned into days. And days turned into weeks. You're on top of your favorite boulder again, watching the humans as they come and go to the beach. The weather is much warmer now compared to that one eventful night. There are people making bonfires and singing and dancing around it.

Everyday ever since, you went to the boulder to see if you would catch a glimpse of the man that caught your heart. But its been a while now and not even his shadow showed up. You think, maybe if you're a bit more persistent, one day he'll visit the beach again and you'll see him. Even if its from afar.

You admit that since the fight with your dad and their refusal to give their blessing, your world has dulled out a little bit. You couldn't find it in you to sing the songs you once loved to sing. Your appetite hasnt returned back to normal. And your joy has been washed out. Your mind is constantly occupied with images of the owner of the necklace that have now found its permanent place around your neck.

You hear a splash beside you and you turn to see Julie. She gives you a small smile.

"Hey, y/n. Mom and dad wants to see you."

"Oh, okay." You didnt think much of it. They probably just have something for you to do. You can see how they try to keep you occupied by giving you little kingdom tasks here and there. Something easy to do, just to keep you going.

"Mom, dad, y/n's here."

"Hey, princess."

"Hi, dad. Hi, mom."

You couldnt bring yourself to hate them. Of course not. You're sad and dejected. But you still love your family. And it might be the loyalty in you as a mermaid, but you're also trying your best to move forward.

You notice that in the room are all your 7 sisters, apart from your mom and dad.

"Why is everyone here?"

Your mom swims forward to where you are with so many emotions on her face.

"My dear, your father and I, together with your sisters, have decided to give you our blessing."

"B-Blessing?"

"Yes, blessing to go after your love."

Shocked is not the word to describe what you're feeling right now. Instead, you're confused with a little happiness swimming up to the surface of your heart.

"What? But I thought.. you and dad, you said-"

"Yes, and it took some time for us but eventually, your mom and I agreed that indeed, there's no cruelty greater than not knowing whether your love can be returned."

You look at your mom. You recall saying those words to her! She must have convinced your dad!

"Oh dad! Mom! Thank you. You dont know how much this means to me!" You sob as you take both your parents into a tight hug.

"Hey, don't leave us out!" And all your 7 sisters flock to you to give you hug.

"Now we have a gift. We cant let you go without helping you." Julie says as he gives a you a shell with some coordinates on it.

"That's where you have to swim to meet your love."

"Yeah, apparently, he is quite a famous person in that place. If you look well enough, you really might find him." Hanni adds. "Dad asked us to help you have something to bring on your long travel."

You looked at your dad and with tears in your eyes, you whisper, "Thank you, dad."

Your dad clears his throat and you know he's trying to hold back tears. "Alright, its time for you to go now. Remember, we're connected wherever. Even if you're swimming to very far seas, everyone in the ocean is your friend and will come to your rescue. So, don't hesitate to turn to the waters when you need to."

"Yes, dad. I will. Mom? Thank you."

Your mom and dad squeeze both your hands, and with one last look at them, off you went to where your love is.

---

You break the surface of the waters and pop your head out into the air. And as you do, you hear the faint sound of the city from where you are.

It's been 217 days since you started swimming to where the coordinates on your shell are. It's a long swim going to the opposite side of the world and you've gotten so tired of swimming too many times. You've befriended so many different mermaids from different mer-cities and you've received varying advices from them about your pursuit.

Some tried to reason with you, some urged you to continue, thinking it was so romantic how you decided to follow this man to where he is. But each time, your resolve just got stronger and stronger.

And finally, today, you're exactly where you need to be. The stars and your coordinates say so.

Now you're confronted with your next dilemma. It's time to go on dry land.

A good mermaid you met during your long travel gave you some things you have to do once you go on land. She's been on land so many times that she's mastered all the basics and necessities. And now you're mindful to follow everything she said.

"Okay, the first most important thing is to wear clothes." Wendy says.

"Clothes?"

"Yes, clothes. You know what that is right?"

"Yeah, I do. I know, but where can I get it?"

"Here, I'll stuff some clothes in this bag for you. I'll also throw in a pair of slippers for your feet. Once you're ready to go on land, don't walk to where the people are immediately. Dry the clothes for a while and then put it on you. Got it?"

So that's what you do. You swim towards the portion of the shore that's most hidden and you take out the clothes that Wendy graciously gave you. You lay them down on the sand to dry and you sit beside them.

As you wait, you stare at the feet that you now had in exchange for your tail. You wiggle your fingers and try to get use to them. You reach out to your sole to feel it and you thought about how far you've come now. You stare at the silver jewelry adorning your neck.

"I'm almost where you are."

The thought gives you a surge of energy that not even a minute later, you put the clothes on even if it still felt cold to the touch. But you cant wait a single more second!

You slip the slippers underneath your feet and you stand. You take careful steps at first and you feel the weakness in your knees. But you dont mind. You'll get used to it as you walk more.

But you don't get used to it. You've walked far enough to reach the noisy part of the land. There's so many people, and so many lights. You're fascinated at everything you're seeing. There were really giant boxes that moved very fast.

Everything is so... new.

But you don't let yourself get distracted. There were huge big glowing sheets up in the sky that showed faces of people. Really beautiful and good looking faces of people. And you thought, since the love of your life was handsome, wouldn't he be on one of the huge glowing sheets, too?

So you walked and walked and followed every glowing sheet, hoping to find one with the face of your love.

You looked around but couldn't find anything. But still you continued walking. Until you reach a place with much lesser lights and much lesser moving boxes. It was dark around you now but you don't know where else to go. You walk some more and you find a glass box with fishes inside.

Oh, poseidon! You were starved!

So you walked faster and put your hands inside the glass box and grabbed a fish. You were about to bite on it when someone harshly grabs your hand. The person's hold on you was so tight that you dropped the fish back into the water.

"Ow!"

"What the hell are you doing with my fish? You're a thief, aren't you!?"

You try to speak but you're not sure what to say. Would your language be the same as them? You understand what they're saying, but would they understand you? The person looks very angry and you dont want to make him even more angry.

"Do you have money to pay for this! You must be crazy? Don't you dare run away! I'll call the police." The person tightens his hold on your wrist even more and you try to escape his burning grip.

"Hey! Let go, you're hurting her!" You hear a woman's voice shout from behind you and immediately, the person lets go of you.

"Mrs. Zhong! I'm sorry. She grabbed a fish from our aquarium and was about to bite on it. She must be crazy! I was just about to call the police on her."

"That won't be necessary. Just leave her to me."

The woman looks at you with kind eyes and you smile at her. She saved you from the angry man and you sense a familiar aura about her that you can't quite pinpoint. But what you're gut is telling you is that she's someone you can trust.

"I see that you're not from here. Why dont we get you some place warm and out of these cold clothes?"

She guides you inside a fast box. It's the same kind as the ones that were moving very fast. You sit inside and you're amazed at how it feels when it starts moving. You sit still and stare glances at the woman that just kept smiling at you.

You don't realize that you pass by a big glowing sheet with the face of the person you're looking for.

---

"Here, why don't you change into these clothes and then we'll get you something to eat?"

You take the clothes that Mrs. Zhong hands you. You recall that thats what the man called her earlier. You nod your head and when she leaves you, you start changing into the new clothes.

Once you're done, you look around the room. It was so different from what rooms look like under the sea. There were so many stuff you dont quite understand. But you note that you like the warmth that you're feeling.

Someone knocks on your door and its Mrs. Zhong.

"Let's have you eat."

You follow Mrs. Zhong out of the room. He leads you to another room with a huge table with so many seafood. You eyes sparkle at the food in front of you because you're hungry from all the walking you did.

So you sit down and look at her to ask for permission. And when she nods at you, you grab a fish and take a bite of it. You groan in relief as you tasted the freshness of it. Your feet did a little wiggle at how good it tasted!

"You're a mermaid." Mrs. Zhong states and you looked at her with wide eyes. You carefully swallowed the food in your mouth and also carefully nodded at her.

"It's okay. I know about mermaids. Our family has always been friendly towards your kind. I know many people don't believe that you exist, but for generations, the Zhong family does." She offers you a gentle smile and urges you to continue eating.

"Dont be afraid to talk. Your words will register to human ears as human language. The same way that it registers as mer-language when you talk to mermaids."

"O-Oh, how did you know?"

"Information about you is sacred inheritance that is passed down in our family. So tell me, child, what's your name?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Pretty name. What brings you here, y/n?

"Uhm, I followed someone."

"Oh, you came for love! Do you know his name?"

"No, I don't. I've only met him when I saved him from drowning. I left before he could wake up. But I have this!" You show Mrs. Zhong the ring necklace that you've been wearing ever since.

"I see, do you mind if I take a look at it? We might find some clues from it." Without hesitation, you hand her the silver piece and she immediately inspects it.

"J.S. Huh, that's a vague information. Let me take a photo of it and let's see what more I can find out about this."

She takes out a small shiny box and a flash of light comes out from it. Mrs. Zhong looks at your confused face and lets out a chuckle.

"This is called a phone."

"A phone?"

"Yeah, you have conch shells in the sea, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well its similar to that in a way that you use phones to call someone who is far way from you. But its just more powerful than a conch shell. You can do a lot more things with it." You nod in understanding although you dont really fully understand.

You focus on the food in front of you and as you keep munching, you hear someone coming in.

"Mom!"

"In the kitchen, son!" Someone comes in the kitchen and you look at him with curiosity.

"Meet y/n. Y/n, this is my son, Chenle."

"H-Hello, Chenle." you give him a shy wave and he acknowledges you with a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. Is she your friend, mom?"

"Yes, she's a special friend and she'll be staying with us for a while. Can I ask you a favor, son?"

"Sure, mom, what is it?"

"Well, y/n here is really a special friend to our family. It's probably the first time you're actually meeting someone like her."

"Oh for real? Wait.. special friend, meaning...? Like, that special friend?"

"Yes, she's our mermaid friend. And Poseidon probably looks after her really well because fate led her to us."

"Oh, wow. Never met a real mermaid before. I've only heard her from the stories we know about them."

"You're right. But we're always prepared to help them anytime. So if you can fit it into your schedule, will you help her get used to our world? She's looking for someone."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I can do that. Who's she looking for?"

"I'm looking for my love. The owner of this!" You interject and show Chenle the ring on your neck. He takes a close look at it.

"J. S.? Are those initials of the person you're looking for?"

"Uhm, I'm not sure. But this belongs to him."

"Alright, we'll help you find him! In the meantime, stay with us! We'll make sure to keep you comfortable here." You smile at Chenle and nod enthusiastically.

Things are looking very positive for you. You thank the seas that you end up being with such kind people.

---

"Chenle, where do I start finding him?"

You know its deep into the night but you cant sleep yet. Your mind is racing with thoughts of how to find the man you love. So Chenle offers to stay with you for a while. You're both seated on a big fluffy chair while he plays with his phone.

"Hmm, what do you know about him?"

"He's handsome."

"Come on, we're gonna need more than just that. What does he look like?"

"Well... his lips first, it has a very defined arch on top of it. You know this part here on your lips?" You point to Chenle's philtrum and he subtly backs away from your touch. A tinge of redness appearing on his ears.

"Y-Yeah okay, got it. What else?

"And then the corners of his lips are upturned even if he isn't smiling. His nose is very high. And then his lashes are really long. Hmm, what else... oh! His hair, very black."

"Okayy, so many people fit that description. Do you have anything else?"

"Hmm... my sister said he's famous here!"

"Famous?"

"Yeah! Famous. So if I try really hard, I might actually find where he is. That's what my sister said."

"Famous, huh. Okay, how about where and how you met? We need to get more clues from what you know."

"I met him back where I live. It's very very very far from here. I saved him from being carried away by the sea."

"You saved him from drowning?" his eyebrows are knit together, as if he's thinking. Like trying to remember something, too.

"Y-Yeah. It was cold that time and nobody was with him. He was trying to find something before a huge wave hit him."

"It was cold, you said? How cold? Was it snowing?"

"No, but the waters were really freezing and no one was swimming that time because of the weather."

"Johnny hyung was in an accident in December." Chenle whispers something you couldn't hear. "Can I see the ring again?"

"Oh, here."

"J. S. ... Johnny Suh? Could it be Johnny hyung?!" Chenle's face lights up in realization and immediately finds something from his phone.

"Y/n, is this him? Is this the person you're looking for?" He shows you his phone and from it, you see the face of the only person that's been on your mind the whole time. And you jump up in delight!

"Chenle! That's him! That's really him! Do you know him? Oh, my seas! Can we go to him now?"

"Really? Shit. The person you love is Johnny hyung."

"Johnny hyung? Is that his name?"

"Johnny. His name is Johnny Suh. J. S., the engraving on the ring."

"Johnny Suh. What a beautiful name. Chenle, we have to hurry! We have to meet him!"

"W-Wait, y/n. We have to plan this well. My mom probably told you already that not everyone believes in mermaids. And you might freak him out if you meet him all of a sudden. We don't want him to be scared."

"O-Okay, so what do we do?"

"Leave it to me. I'll make sure you meet him. But now, you have to sleep because tomorrow's a busy day for us."

Chenle says you need to sleep. But the racing in you heart won't allow you to do that. You just learned his name. And what's even more heart pounding is you're just another step away from meeting him. You close your eyes and say a little prayer. Johnny Suh, I can't wait to meet you.

---

"Okay, so I'm bringing you to work. Wear this and this, and then this." You receive everything that Chenle gives you and immediately start to undress.

"W-Wait! Not yet! Damn, let me go out first before changing!"

Chenle walks out of your room and you immediately wear the clothes he gave you. After dressing, you go out and see Chenle waiting for you outside.

"So, here's the deal. I'm bringing you to work. Johnny hyung's group and my group have one big activity today, so he'll be there. I'm taking you in as one of my assistants for the day and you'll help on everything. Eventually and hopefully, you'll have a chance to help Johnny hyung, too. Don't be too forward. Remember not to get too excited. Just be calm. Don't scare him. Okay?"

"O-Okay!" You held Johnny's ring tightly in your hands, hide it inside your shirt, and hope that everything will turn for the best.

---

Once you get to where Chenle was working, you're surprised at how many people there are. Everyone seems busy and is constantly moving. You survey the place hoping you see Johnny now.

You're both nervous and excited. You imagine how it would be meeting him. All you had with you was a ring and a memory of his face and that was enough to keep you going. You're very sure of your what you feel. What you're not sure is if this love you have, can be returned.

"Chenle!" a deep loud voice calls to Chenle and both of you whip your heads in unison. And as you turn to the direction of the voice, in front of you, in flesh, is Johnny.

Your lips part as he walks toward you and Chenle. All of a sudden, the place isn't noisy anymore. All of sudden, there was no one else but you and him. He hasn't changed much. But this time, you see the brightness in his eyes. Something you couldn't see on the night you saved him. You want to run to him, jump in his arms and tell him that you were the one that saved him. But you don't do any of those things. You remember Chenle's words and held yourself back.

"Johnny hyung!"

"Chenle, it's been so long!"

"It has, hasn't it? How are you?"

"Been doing great! Just got back from New York two days ago. How about you? And oh, sorry, who's your friend here?" Johnny turns to you and you mirror his actions.

"Johnny hyung, this is y/n. She'll be assisting us for today's shoot. Renee is sick, but I figured its gonna get busy today. So I brought her to help. Just let her know if you need anything, okay!"

"Nice to meet you, y/n. Hope you wont get too overwhelmed today." Johnny reaches out his hand to you.

"N-Nice to meet you, Johnny."

"See you later, Chenle! Just have to get my hair and make up fixed."

"Yes, hyung!"

You let out the breath you didn't know you've been holding

"Wow, that didn't take long. How was seeing him again in person y/n?"

"He's shining." He chuckles at your choice of description.

"Come, let's station you to where he is."

For the rest of the day, thanks to Chenle, you mostly followed the team assigned to help Johnny.

"Y/n, can you wipe Johnny's sweat please!" one of the head assistants instruct you.

"Y-Yes!" and you quickly run to where Johnny is. You take a tissue and gently dab it on his forehead. You brush away some of the hair framing his face. And then like how you observed from everyone, you turned the small fan you had on and turned it towards Johnny's face.

"You learn fast, y/n." Johnny smiles to you and you swear your heart does a little spin at his compliment.

"I-I do?"

"Yeah, you do. Have been doing this work for a long time?"

"No, today's my first day. I l-like helping you." you say straight. Johnny is surprised at your innocent confession. He pats your head and you're flustered at the contact with him.

"Thanks y/n. You're doing great."

"Alright! We're ready to take again!"

You touch the spot on your hair that Johnny touched and you smiled a little bit. You think you just fell in love with him even more, if that's even possible. He's so kind and so gentle.

The day went by and you had more small interactions with Johnny. And for every encounter you had with him, you can't help but admire him even more. He always spoke with such kindness and respect. So when it was time to go, you feel your heart weigh down a little bit.

"Anyone wanna grab drinks?" Johnny shouts.

"Hyung! Count me in! But can y/n join, too? We go the same way home so, we're gonna head back together after."

"Of course! Who else?" A few more boys, that you guess are their friends, raise their hand and said they want to come.

You look at Chenle expectantly and he just nods and smiles at you. Chenle, thank you! You thought.

All of you ride in one van and you go to a place that smells delicious. Everyone went inside a private room and started ordering. You're seated between Chenle and Johnny.

"Y/n, this is Mark, Haechan, Jungwoo hyung, Taeyong hyung, and Doyoung hyung. Everyone, this is y/n. She's a family friend and she helped at today's shoot."

"Hi y/n. Wow, has she ever been casted before? She's very pretty, no cap." The boy named Jungwoo says.

"Casted? What's casted?"

"That's when companies ask people to join them. To become an idol. Like us." Chenle answers. "But no, I don't think she's ever been casted before. She lived overseas for a long time."

"Oh really? Why'd you come here?" Mark curiously inquires.

You sit straight before answering. "For love! I followed a man." And everyone in the table chokes at your answer. You look at them and wonder if there's something wrong with what you said.

"Interesting. That's very brave of you. Who's this man, though? Can you share it with us?" it was Johnny asking now. He looked intently at you, awaiting to hear the name of the man you loved enough to cross another country for. You don't meet his gaze. You can't just blurt his name, right here right now, can you?

"There's someone... someone really handsome." Chenle coughs and all the others chuckle a little bit.

"Wow, y/n. You're something, aren't you! You're fun." Taeyong comments.

Just like that, the food and drinks come and you happily try everything. As dinner progresses, Johnny initiates a conversation with you.

"Y/n, this might be weird, but would it be possible that we've already met before?"

Yes! You look at Johnny and think very hard about what to say.

"Because you seem very familiar to me."

"W-Well I've always seen you." In my mind, when I think about you.

"Is that so? Are you a fan?" Johnny smirks as he asks.

"A fan? What is a fan?" You tilt your head and wait as Johnny tries to explain.

"Hmm, the easy explanation is its someone that likes another person."

"Oh! T-Then I'm a fan!"

"Really? Of the whole group?"

"No, you! I'm a fan of you!" Johnny breaks eye contact with you and turns to drink from his glass. His neck gets a little bit red.

"Are you always this honest?"

"I've never lied in my life."

"That's good. Very good, actually. I don't like liars."

You're not lying to Johnny aren't you? You're just postponing to tell him everything. You're going to tell him, eventually. Some time and place better.

---

Yesterday wasn't the last day Johnny would see you. His group and Chenle's are going to work together again today. And seeing you tag behind Chenle as he enters the set, he's guessing you would always tag along for the whole duration of their comeback preparations, which is a welcome change for him.

He would never openly admit to Chenle, but you are a breath of fresh air for him. Your chocolate brown hair that went down to your waist, your eyes that smiled along with your lips, and your lips... he probably focused on them one too many times every time you went close to him. But what intrigues him the most is your innocence and honesty. He'd never been flustered by someone before! But your sudden confessions catch him off guard. He's never met someone like you.

"Johnny!"

"Hey, y/n. How are you?"

"I slept well and was happy I can come with Chenle again today! I was excited to see you." Johnny gives a hearty laugh. This is what he was talking about. Only you can be so direct and forward with him. It makes him wonder if you're flirting with him. But when he looks at your face, there's no hint of malice or intention. Just pure... pureness. He wonders if you'd let him taint that innocence a little bit.

"Work hard today, y/n."

"I will!"

And through out the day, you do work hard. Johnny looks at you as you listen to another staff giving you instructions. He doesn't see what the staff asks you but you start picking up some water bottles that have been left on the floor.

As you were picking up water bottles, he sees something silver come out from inside your shirt. And you're not too far from him that he wouldn't recognize the very familiar piece of jewelry on your neck.

He stands from where he is and walks to where you are. He gets even more confused when he grabs your hand to face him and he confirms that you were wearing his ring.

"Where did you get this?" Y/n is shocked at the evident anger in his voice. Your eyes widen in realization on what he was pertaining to.

"I said.. where did you get this?"

"J-Johnny, my hand."

"Fucking answer me!" His voice booms and everyone stops to look. You also drop an open water bottle on the floor. Some of the water get on your feet as you were only wearing open sandals. Your eyes get wide with fear and panic and Johnny doesn't understand why.

"Chenle!" you shout Chenle's name and the boy looks to you direction and runs in panic.

"You got wet?"

"Y-Yes."

"Shit." You were shaking as Chenle quickly carries you somewhere.

---

Chenle quickly finds and empty room before your tail fully appears.

"C-Chenle..."

"Shh, it's okay. I'll get you dry and they'll turn into feet in no time."

The door harshly opens and it reveals an angry looking Johnny whose expression turns into something different when he sees your form.

"Hyung close the door!" And Johnny does. He locks it, too. He turns to look again, this time blinking to make sure his eyes aren't betraying him.

"What the fuck?" you sob at the situation. You were still trying to find the right time to explain everything. Trying to get close to him first. But now he sees you in this form, you wont be surprised he's disgusted with you now.

"Hyung! I'll explain later but now that you're here, can you help me first? Get me two towels!" Something shifts in Johnny's expression. He's neither angry nor confused now. He's face is just blank and focused as he gives Chenle the towels.

Chenle wipes your tail with the other towel and the other one, he gives you to cover yourself for one you transform back to being human. When Chenle fully dries you off, your tail shifts to legs again and you're naked.

Both Johnny and Chenle look away as you cover yourself with the towel. You keep your head down as you wait for Chenle to hand you new clothes. Both men turn around as you start to dress yourself.

And as you do, tears don't stop streaming down your face. You feel defeated. You've never once felt ashamed of who you are. Never. But at this moment, you hoped you were a normal girl. You hoped you weren't a mermaid. Because if you weren't a mermaid, then you would have met Johnny normally, like any normal human would.

As you put the last piece of your clothing on, you remove the ring on your neck that connected you to Johnny for a very long time. You walk to him and hesitantly took his hand. You place the ring on his palm and quietly say, "This belongs to you. I'm s-sorry I took it, Johnny."

You let go of his hand and they watch you as you exit the room. Even Chenle didn't go after you. Your sobs still ring clear in his ears. You must feel so broken and defeated inside, he thinks.

---

You walked and walked and walked some more until you reached the shore where you arrived. You feel the soreness of your feet, so you sit on the sand and looked at the open sea.

Now what? You're sure that Johnny hates you. You now know that the only love you'll ever have in your lifetime can never be returned. This must be the cruel pain that your parents mentioned. Oh, how extremely painful it truly is.

You hug your knees close to your chest and just cry your heart out. As you continue to do so, some figures emerge out of the water and you wipe the tears that blurred your vision to see what the figures were. As you do, you saw that it was your mom, Julie, and Hanni.

"Mom? Mom! Julie! Hanni!"

Instead of you coming to them, they came to you. One by one, their tails turned into feet and they run to you. You look around you and when you see that where you were was a secluded part of the shore, you're relieved.

"Mom.. Sisters...."

And with just one look, your mom and sisters understood. They hugged and cried with you until there was no more left to cry.

"Why did you come here?"

"We wanted to visit and see how you were doing. Your father had to stay because of duties, but he sends his warm love. He misses you dearly." Your mom answers.

"I ruined everything mom."

"Shh.. you didn't ruin anything. You were brave."

"Yes, y/n, mom's right. You were brave for chasing your love! And sometimes, when things dont work the way we expect them to, the most important thing is trying." Hanni adds.

You hug them once more. Oh, how you missed your family!

"You can always come back home." Julie tells you. And just when you're about to answer, you hear a faint voice calling out your name.

"But it might be too early to say! Is that him?"

"I-I guess so..."

"Y/n! Where are you?"

"Oh that's him! He's looking for me." As Johnny gets closer to where you are, your mom and sisters quickly go back to the sea.

"Y/n!" Johnny closes the gap between you and him and pulls you in an embrace. "I thought you left!"

"N-No, I was just sitting. How did you know I was here? Why were you looking for me? "

"Chenle's mom told us you might be here based on where she first found you. And I was looking for you because you left."

You search his face for answers but it was too dark. He still hasn't exactly answered why he was looking for you.

"Y-You were mad..."

"I was but not because... I wasn't.. Sorry I'm worried some people might see us here and take photos of us. This isn't exactly a private place. Will you come home with me?" Johnny reaches his hand out to you and you look to the sea briefly before taking his hand.

---

The drive going to Johnny's place was quiet. No one said a word. And when you enter his home, nobody said a word, still. Instead, Johnny takes your hand sits you on his couch.

"Yes, I was angry."

"I'm s-sorry."

"You don't even know what I was angry for, yet. I was angry because I've been looking for this ring for a long time now. It was the last thing on my mind before I had an accident."

"I know..."

"You know? You know what?"

"Your accident. That night, at the sea, you were looking for something before drowning."

"Yeah, I drowned while trying to look for this ring. How do you know this?" Johnny stares deep in your eyes and his lips part as everything clicks like a puzzle.

"You're the silhouette in my dreams. Except that you are actually real." He pauses. "Ever since the accident, I've always had these dreams of a girl leaning down on me. She didn't have a face and I can only see her silhoutte. That girl... she's you. You saved me, didn't you?"

And as you nod, Johnny hugs you again.

"You saved me in more ways than one." as you stare at him confused, Johnny takes his ring out.

"This ring belongs to my mom. J. S. for Johannah Suh. And that night when you found me, I was in a very dark place. It was my her death anniversary that time. I just wanted to miss her by myself. I just wanted to be somewhere quiet. It's hard to remember her when everything's constantly moving around me, you know."

"This was one of the few things that reminded me of her. So when it was taken by the waves. I had to find it. And that's when the waves took me, too."

After Johnny was done explaining, you saw the sadness in his eyes. So you gently take his face in your hand and try to comfort him.

"Mermaid can only love once in their life." Johnny looks at you. "When I saved you, that one love came to me."

"W-Wait, am I the person you were talking about at dinner? The one you followed for love?"

"Y-Yes."

"You swam half the world to meet me." You nod at his conclusion.

"You were my one love and I just wanted to give it a good fight before giving up. So when I saw the fear in your eyes when you saw my tail, I thought, maybe that's all the fight I can do."

"Fear? I wasn't afraid of your tail, y/n."

"You weren't?"

"No! Your tail was magestic. The most beautiful thing I saw. I was scared somebody would see you from the set and try to hurt you."

"So, you aren't scared of me?"

"Never."

"Then can I still work for you?" At this, Johnny laughs.

"Why work for me? Didn't you say you love me?"

"Y-Yeah, but that's just me."

"Is it?" Slowly, you see Johnny's eyes look at your lips. He slowly moves forward to seal the gap between you and him. As he does, you close your eyes. In a second, you feel his hands on your face and his soft lips on yours.

He keeps still for a while. His lips quiet on top of yours. As he separates from you, he presses his forehead against yours and whispers.

"Why don't you be mine, instead."

"I'm yours, Johnny. Always." you answer with no hesitation.

---

"I'm yours, Johnny. Always."

Johnny attaches his lips on yours again. This time, his tongue sought entrance and you let him in. His thumbs draw circles on your cheek. You let out a small whimper when he sucks your tongue. Your small sound officially drove him crazy.

His mind is racing with a hundred thoughts of what he wants to do to you. As he deepens the kiss, he imagines how these lips of yours would feel around his cock. You would look so pretty looking up at him, gagging around his length because its too much for you.

It's just a fantasy for now. He won't do anything tonight that would scare you.

"Tell me, princess, have you kissed anyone before?" Your eyes looked glossy and your lips swollen from kissing. He runs a finger over your lips as he wait for your answer.

"N-No."

"Not even a merman?"

"You're the only one I've kissed. The only man I've been with whether on land or seas."

"Good." He feels satisfied with your answer and his chest swells with pride at the realization that he gets to be person that corrupts you.

"Can we kiss again?" He smiles at your request and takes your hand to lead you inside his room.

"We can do more than just kissing."

As you reach his room, he turns you around to kiss you again. This time with much more intensity. You let out pretty moans that are like music to his ears.

He lips go south to give your neck open mouthed kisses. He licks a spot just below your ear and this makes you arch your neck even more, giving him more access. He smiles against your skin as you become so responsive to him.

His hands roam on your body, from your waist, to your hips, down to where your ass is. He gives it a little squeeze and you jump in surprise at his action.

"Tell me if you want to stop, y/n."

"No, I was just surprised but I l-like it."

"Good girl."

Johnny holds your hips again and attaches his lips to your abused neck. This time, his hands roam inside your shirt. His fingers linger on the skin of your stomach before reaching for the clasp of your bra behind your back.

"Do mermaids really wear this?"

"N-No, Mrs. Zhong just told me its important to wear it." He undos your bra.

"You dont have to wear this anymore when you're with me." And you nod at his words. He moves his hand to cup your breasts and your eyebrows scrunch and you bite your lips at what he does. He can't wait to see all of you. So he takes the hem of your shirt and removes it from you.

He takes in your beautiful form. He looks closely at you as he plays with your nipples.

"J-Johnny..."

"My pretty pretty mermaid." Johnny dips his head to get a taste of you. He puts one nipple in his mouth and he sucks on it with the intention of turning your milky skin into a swollen red. He wants every part of your body marked by him.

You gently pull Johnny's hair as he swirls his tongue on your nipple. And when he's had his fill, he guides you to lay down on his bed. In a swift move, he removes both your shorts and underwear. Leaving you fully naked for him.

You're a goddess, Johnny thinks. With your long hair all sprawled behind you, and your skin adorned with his love bites, he doesn't think you can get even more beautiful than this. You look so small and it drives him insane. He can't wait to ruin you.

He teases a finger over your core and you squirm away. So he holds your waist in place as he inserts a finger in you. You let out a moan from the penetration and when he feels that you've adjusted enough, he adds another digit in.

He watches you with lust as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The way your face contorts in pleasure and your hips remain in his hold, turn him even more.

"I feel something, Johnny.."

He feels your insides tighten and from this, he knows that you're about to come.

"Don't fight it princess, let go for me."

"Ahh!"

And like the good girl you are, you come on his fingers. Immediately, he dips his head into your core and suck the bundle of nerves as he curls his fingers inside of you.

"Wait, Johnny! T-too much!"

"Have to prep you well, princess. I dont want to hurt you later."

You grab a fistful of his hair as he overstimulates you even more. Your screams turn louder as he eats you into your second orgasm.

Johnny lifts his head from your core and licks his finger clean. He removes his pants and you see his cock spring free. He lays against the headboard and he looks at you with anticipation.

"Come here, Y/n." And you get up with your knees and come closer to where he is.

"Ride me." You're confused at what he means so he lifts you by your waist onto his thighs.

"This," he points to his cock, "goes inside this." he touches your core. You understand. And although he sees a bit of fear in your eyes, you follow Johnny. You align yourself with his cock and take in the tip.

You bite your lower lip at the burning feeling, but you continue to slide down.

"You're doing well my sweet girl. So good for me." Johnny's hands guide your waist to slide down even more.

"T-Too big."

"You can take it." Johnny becomes impatient and fully pushes you down on his cock.

"O-ohh! Johnny, it hurts!" He sees some tears in you eyes but he kisses them away.

"You'll feel good in a while, princess. Now, move for me." And you follow Johnny. You maintain eye contact with him as you bounce faster on his cock. He tightens the grip on your waist.

"You feel so tight around me, y/n. Shit!"

Johnny flips your positions and you're now under him. He pushes your legs even further from each other and he reaches deeper into you.

"A-Ahh... ahh. So good."

"Yeah? You like how that feels princess? Like how your pussy is getting ruined?"

"Yes, J-Johnny. It feels good. D-don't stop."

He continues to ram into you and when he feels you tighten, he increases his speed even more. He wants to feel you more, want to corrupt you more. He wants to fuck you until you beg for him.

Even when you come, he doesnt stop. The sound of his cock coming in and out of your pussy is an unholy one.

"W-wait Johnny."

He grabs your hands and pound into you some more. "Just a little more princess, I'm almost there."

He thrusts into you a few more times until he feels you squeezing him again. He relishes the feeling of you around him. He's blissed out with how good you feel.

"Fuck, come for me again, y/n."

And you do. This time, Johnny comes with you. And he pulls out just in time to release his cum on your stomach. He stares at your cum covered stomach and then at your face.

You look so pretty panting and sweaty. And this sight is all for him.

He grabs a towel and cleans you up. After that, he fixes your position on the bed to make sure you're comfortable.

You reach for his hand and he does the same to you. He looks at your eyes and gives you a gentle smile.

"Thank you for swimming to me, mermaid. I'll be the one to come to you now."

[nesepte]

nesepte masterlist ˋ°•*⁀➷

Haechan

Half Pink Half You ↬ enemies(?) to lovers, pining (lots of it), angst, more pining, prank war, enemies to idiots to lovers (they pine for each other a lot), hospitalization, near-death experience, near-drowning, and once again, lots of angst

Jaemin

Forbidden Fruit Pt. I (18+) ↬ sexual tension, angst, mind games, mutual pining, brother’s best friend, jaemin is also a tease, some more tension, sexually explicit, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, smoking, pet names (baby, darling), teasing

Forbidden Fruit Pt. II (18+) ↬ sexual tension, teasing, mind games, desperation (is this a genre?), but they are very desperate, longing, brother’s best friend Jaemin, Jaemin is also very shameless and brazen, sexually explicit, unprotected sex, mild exhibitionism, outdoor sex, alcohol consumption, pet names (baby, darling), sexual footsy

Jaehyun

Hundred Steps - Coming Soon ↬ soft jaehyun, mild angst, fluff (sort of – he is cute in this), cozy, unsaid words, music(al), enemies (one-sided) to lovers, rich jaehyun, but very humble jaehyun, acts of service love language jaehyun, small town, summer, small shop owner reader - vinyl record store, coming of age (?)

[my-debauchery]

Nothing.

idol!yuta × afab!reader

idol!yuta × afab!reader

g`fluff, smut

cw`dom!yuta, sub!reader, crossdressing, kissing, spitting, facefucking, cumeating(f&m), oral(f. & m.), mommy kink, slapping, unconsciousness (all is consensual), squirting, explicit content, unprotected sex, fingering

wc`3.2k

A/N:this was somewhat inspired by "Nothing On Me" by Kai. as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. if you see mistakes in cw tagging, please, let me know.

you were seating at the dressing table, trying to properly curl your hair for the evening ahead. getting hotter by the minute from the effort and the heat of the iron.

as you finished the last strand of hair and pinned it up to cool, you lift your eyes up and see yuta in the reflection staring at you 'can you please open the window? i want to cool down before doing my makeup' you smiled and turned to face him.

yuta silently moves towards your bed and places his bag on it. he fulfills your request and you relish in the icy air filling the room.

you thank him and turn back to the mirror. you hear yuta approaching you while you're rummaging in your makeup drawer. he places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him once again.

he gives you a unreadable look and kneels next to you. you start turning towards him, but he stops you. so you keep looking at each other though the mirror.

'would you mind doing my makeup too?' he asks you somewhat hesitantly 'sure' you say as you continue to look through your makeup collection again 'but i hope you understand that i never did male makeup, so it might look a bit strange. also i probably won't be able to do your skin, our shades don't match' you tease him.

'you didn't understand me' you hear 'huh?' you meet his eyes full of worries 'what do you mean then?' you inquire. he gets up and brings over his bag over to you.

he opens it up and takes stuff out places them onto the table 'i ordered this and hoped you would do my makeup how you do yours. female style, you know? i even got a foundation in my shade' he shows you a bottle of it and places it back on the table 'i also got a matching dress to yours for me to wear for our date'

'you want me to do your makeup like for a woman and to wear a dress for our date?' you ask carefully. your boyfriend just nods weakly.

yuta watches you get up and quickly go to the bathroom and the dread starts to sink in. he was terrified of what he presumes is happening right now. that you going to be horrified and want to leave him. that so far things were far too good to be true. that you were too accepting, easygoing and he crossed the line.

it was one thing to have kinks and introduce som/sub dynamics into the relationship, far easier to learn and adjust to. but completely other when your boyfriend wants to dress like a woman, who would want that?

yuta was trying to come up with something, anything to calm you down and convince you to not leave him. but after hearing some noise from the bathroom, he saw you waltz back into the bedroom with giddiness and a fluffy kuromi hairband in your hands.

'do you have a specific look in mind or do you want me to freestyle it? or as we going to have matching dresses, do you want to have matching makeup looks? to go all out?' you question while looking through the products he bought.

he grabs your hand 'you don't mind?' he asks and looks inquisitively at you. you look confused and he clarifies 'about me wearing feminine makeup and woman's clothes? that i want us to go out like that together, publicly?'

you giggle and answer 'no. i don't care in what form you come, yuta. your core doesn't change, even if you're a shapeless blob. i know that i love you and you love me, what else could possibly matter? as for the publicity aspect, i only worry that someone might recognize you, but i can try to make you unrecognizable. power of makeup and all that jazz, you know? also we go out at midnight on a walk, so we should be fine' you finish and hold his face gently.

he nods 'thank you. with you i truly feel like i'm alive for the first time' you lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the lips with a wide toothy grin 'now, do you want a full fantasy of a makeup shop experience?'

yuta laughs 'no. i've had plenty of that. i want a fantasy of my girlfriend doing my makeup. preferably while sitting on my lap' he sits down and pulls in to straddle him.

you snort and ask if he has any reference pictures for his look. he shows you different gothic style makeup looks and tells you to do what you think would look best. he relaxes and circles you waist with his arms. so you get to work.

once you're done you hold up a mirror so yuta can see himself 'do you like it? i must say, i think i've outdone myself. you look like a goth baddie'you get up to put away his stuff and a thought hits you 'oh my god! i'll do my makeup like an insta baddie and we can be 2 baddies, just no porsche' you laugh and look up a reference for yourself.

suddenly yuta hugs you from the back and whispers into the nape of your neck 'i love it, thank you' you smile 'go get changed and i'll do my makeup in the meantime, okay?' he nods and walks off.

you do your makeup and let down your curls. you brush them out and spray on your favorite perfume after changing into your own dress. you go to the leaving room in search of yuta, but once you see him, you are speechless.

he is wearing a satin midnight blue slip dress with strings that can shorten it on both sides, a fluffy black cardigan and a glossy black butterfly shaped hair clip on one side 'how do i look? it's not too much, right?' he asks and you shake your head like a dummy.

'you don't look like a baddie. you look like a mommy' you say almost in a trance. yuta looks at your glazed eyes and scoffs 'misbehave and i'll punish you like one' you feel a hot rush and blur out without thinking 'yes, mommy' yuta gives you a warning look and you try to calm yourself down.

you both get your shoes and coats on and head out of the apartment. while standing in the elevator yuta holds your hand and intertwines your fingers. he squeezes it slightly 'remember to behave. you are my good girl, right?' you nod enthusiastically and he kisses your cheek.

you spend next hour just walking around enjoying pretty snowfall and each other's company. but you can't really look at anything except your lovely boyfriend, fantasizing about him taking you in the dark alleyway while calling him mommy or letting him use your mouth.

but you know good things will come to those who wait and you could wait for eternity if it meant waiting for him. you are his good girl after all.

you're nearing your apartment complex and you feel a craving for something sweet, so you pull yuta towards a convince store 'do you want me to give you a face mask?' yuta thought for a moment and shakes his head. he gives you his card 'go get yourself a treat. i'll wait here' you take it and go inside.

you book it straight for your favorite and move to the front to pay 'what a lovely pair you two are' cashier, an old woman mentions, you look up at her in alarm 'what?'

she smiles 'your sister and you. sure your sister's style is a bit unconventional, but i mean she is still beautiful' you smile and relief washes over you, and when a naughty thought pops in 'it's my mommy' you smile even wider 'mommy?' cashier glances outside at yuta again, who now is watching you.

'doesn't she look grate? she still buys me sweet treats, even though i'm all grow up now' you say and swipe yuta's card 'does she? i guess you have a great mommy, don't you?' smile again 'i do. she is the best. have a good night' you step outside and meet yuta's suspicious gaze.

'what did you talk about? you looked worried for a moment? is everything alright?' he tries to look into your eyes, but you avoid his eyes and just munch on your sweet treat 'nothing' you say nonchalantly.

at least you think you said that nonchalantly, but to yuta you look pleased and there is a mischievous twinkle in your eyes once you turn to him. he knows you lying, but he'll let you have your treat for now.

once you approach the buildings entrance, yuta asks you again 'still i'm interested, what were you talking about with the cashier? hmm' he looks up ahead and you know from his tone, that if you don't fess up you'll be in trouble.

hesitantly you tell him during your elevator ride up 'good girl' he tells you while caressing your check. foolishly you relax and happily skip to the front door of the apartment.

however, the mood shifts drastically once the door closes and it pings locked.

yuta pushes you against the mirror hanging next to the front door. your forehead is touching it's cold surface while yuta cages you from behind. one of his arms is circling you, preventing your movement, while the other is covering and lightly squeezing the lower half of your face 'did you think that you were being funny?'

he stares you down in the mirror and you shake your head 'did you think at all before opening your mouth?' he spoke in to your left ear. you shook in his grasp. you start overheating from your coat and yuta's close proximity, but an undeniable feeling of arousel starts to creep.

he turns you around gripping you face again and your shoulder 'maybe you should use your mouth for something better then risky smalltalk' he releases you and starts taking his coat off 'strip.

you move at the speed of lightning throwing clothes all around, while yuta gracefully takes off everything except the dress. you stand there naked shaking like a leaf, not from nerves but from the sheer desire for your boyfriend to have you.

'kneel.' you gently lower yourself right there and look up at him. yuta is towering over you in all his glory. you can see his dick bulging up underneath the dress and the visual makes you squeeze your thighs together.

'open up' he gently holds your chin and you stick your tongue out. he lets his spit slowly drip down into your mouth, all the while holding your gaze.

he lets go of your face and you remain in the same position. yuta lifts his dress up, revealing his fully hard dick and ties strings on one side.

you start by spreading his spit all over with your tongue and gently massaging his balls. you suck on his tip and keep massaging him. after couple sucks you start taking half of him in. going up and down his shaft, flattening your tongue on down motion and licking at top without releasing the tip from your mouth, while still massaging his balls with your hands.

yuta is grunting lowly above you. his left hand is on your head massaging your scalp 'you are doing so well. i know this is all you could think about during our walk. probably something even dirtier, like me fucking you in the back alleyway. and if i wanted to you'd let me, right? you are truly my good girl. good, but dirty and downright depraved little girl, aren't you?' you hum happily and take his dick all the way down.

your nose is pressing against his belly and you squeeze his balls harder and start humming to create a vibration' oh, shit! hold on baby' and you let go of him. you place your hands on his thighs and relax your throat even farther.

yuta grabs your head with both hands and starts fucking your mouth without holdbacks. you breath through your nose and let yourself be completely consumed by him. he goes at a brutal pace and tears foarm in your eyes. you can feel your pussy pulsating and you squeeze your thighs even harder. tears stream down and you can't see anything. you just feel.

he starts growling on top of you and somehow go even faster 'is this what you wanted, huh? for mommy to punish you? am i not giving you enough attention, so you misbehave for me to notice you? are you such a desperate little slut, hmm?'

yuta fully stops and keeps you pressed all the down and starts cuming down your throat. you feel lightheaded. fully enveloped by his smell and taste. you close your eyes and let go of his legs 'look at me. don't you remember? mommy wants you to always look in her eyes' you look at him and start shaking like a dog in heat. his eyes are full of raw desire to fully consume you.

and yuta sees the same in yours.

once he's done cumming he lets go of your head and gently ease you of himself. you lay down on your back breathing heavily. yuta squats in front of you and nudges your legs appart. he swipes his hand against your pussy and lifts it up for you to see. as he spreads his fingers appart, you can see your arousel stringing between them.

you start to turn to get on all fours but yuta stops you 'go to your place'

"your place" is a pool of soft blankets and pillows. placed next to the floor length mirrors in the leaving room he set up in his apartment for you. all because you enjoy to just look out the window at night while listening to the music. or lay around there waiting for him to come back home. all the blankets and pillows are in your favorite colors and designs, just for you.

you stretch your arms towards him to help you get up, but he shakes his head and gates up by himself 'crawl.' you don't need to be told twice and get moving. slowly crawling to the windows, acutely aware of his heavy gaze on you.

once you make it, you turn around and look at him, but he is right behind you. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and of your labored breaths prevented you hearing his movements.

he manhandles you into a mating press and you grab the back of your things. you expect him to fuck you now, but to your horror he slowly lowers his face towards your vagaina. you knew that you are in for a wild ride now and that being naughty is not for you.

yuta speards your pussy lips apart and spits on it. you feel it pool and drip down to your anus. he blows on it and you shudder from the temperature change.

he starts to gently massage spreading mixture of your arousel and his spit all around. from your pubic mound down to your ass without touching your clit. you start to shake from the anticipation, knowing he won't be calm and gentle for long.

you hear the sound of the slap first and the sting comes after. he slapped your clit and you whined. he slapped it again and again. you just keep on whining and sniffling. after several slaps you see that you pussy is all red and puffy. yuta dives right in.

you can't focus on any one thing in particular. you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. your skin is slippery from the sweat and it's hard to hold your legs pressed to your chest. and most overwhelming is yuta's devouring of your sipping heat.

he looks almost mad. his freshly dyed hair a mess. face all red and glistening with your release. and a stare of a rabied dog that is feeding for the first time in forever. he is looking straight at your and amid all the pleasure you feel almost shy.

but then he plunges three fingers in your fluttering hole and you forget all about it. while his tongue is lapping at your clit at an inhumane speed, his fingers play with your g-spot agonizingly slow. as you started to seize up yuta started to jab his fingers at it and suck on your clit with fool force.

the familiar pressure starts to build and then white, hot flush takes over you as you squirt into yuta's mouth.

your grip on your legs slips. yuta grabs your legs and pushes. you completely lose it and just shake from cumming and overstimulation, because yuta didn't let up and continued lapping up your juices and sucking on your pussy.

you come around and feel yuta's head still stuck between your thighs. both of you on your sides with you facing the window, looking over the night cityscape.

another orgasm hits you and you moan long and loud. you can feel just how soar you are. yuta turns you onto your back and kneels between your outstretched legs.

you can see your juices dripping down his chin, neck and onto his chest. his makeup completely ruined with mascara runs like in classic rom-com and lipstick gone. he is fully naked and hard. you manage to whisper out 'dress?'

'it got all sticky so I took it off. how do you feel?' he questioned as he lifted you up to a sitting position 'soar and empty' you can see that he cumed all over the blanket 'won't mommy feel me up?' you croacked out and batted your lashes.

yuta chuckles and nodes 'of course ,my good kitten deserves it. after all you did so well' he wipes hair away from your face and kisses your forehead.

he lays down and pulls you on top of him. first you kneel to straddle him, but he pulls you flush against him while keeping your legs in a kneeling position.

yuta carefully enters you, keeping in mind your soar body. once you're down to a hilt you both sigh in relief. he plants his feet on the floor and gently starts rocking into you.

he is slow and deliberate with his strokes. pleasure comes in waves, like you're laying on the shore with warm waves washing over your body again and again.

you both circle each with your arms 'you're my lovely puppy, aren't you? you always do so well for me. even if you're naughty you take your punishment like a champ. my little cutie. you are ready for me to fill you up?' you nod into his chest and let go of your own release.

you feel his warm seed fill you and all consuming bliss takes over your entire being. it spreads from your stomach all over like a liquid sunshine.

while basking in your afterglow you ask yuta 'can you keep your dress on next time?' he thinks for a moment 'can't make any promises'

'why not?' he turns you by you chin to face him, his eyes are full of devotion 'i want nothing on me but you'

[yojeongin]

playing dangerous | k.dy

→bff’s stepdad!doyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, semi-angst, some fluff, forbidden affair, semi-character study

synopsis: summers are meant to be spent having fun with your best friend not fooling around with her step father.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, age gap (not focused between mcs), yearning, power imbalance, massive frued psychosexual theory undertones (that old man won), morally grey characters, alluding to cycle of predation and abuse of power, manipulation, lowkey ageism, doyoung heavy mommy issues (worrying actually), oral (m receiving), cum kiss, fingering, foot play, unprotected sex, creampie, voyeurism.

wc: 15.8k || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

© 2025 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: sorry this took longer than expected, im 3hrs late oops. the corporate lifestyle has been kicking my ass so bad (im so fucking miserable) and i wasn't satisfied with what i was going to post last week anyway so hope this is better (hope).

“Are you sure that’s your step dad and not step brother?”

Disbelief was too soft of a word for what you truly thought. When your friend had given you notice that her mother had married her boyfriend of two years (news to you), you had expected the man to be decrepit and gray haired. Not someone not too much older than what you were. 

Earlier you had confused him with one of the movers who helped bring in your friend’s and her mother’s items into the new home. You went as far as shooting him a flirty smile while making way to your friend who sat peacefully on the porch swing with a glass of cold lemonade to aid her from this horrid summer heat. 

“Yeah…“ she whines, throwing her head back enough to hit herself a tad with the backrest. “He makes her happy. As long as he does, I don’t care how old he is.” She felt judged by your constant questioning. As if she was the one marrying the man. As if she was living through her mother and her decisions to wed someone significantly younger than her. You were the last person she wanted to feel judged by, however could they truly blame your incessant curiosity and shock? Specifically when you never knew her mother was dating. What kind of best friend are you to not be as close as you believed?

Meghan wasn’t the youngest, the woman was sixty and this man looked to be in his late twenties. How could they blame you for your curiosity? 

“So how old is he?” You shift beside her, the swing rocking with every move. “He turned thirty in February. She hasn’t had a partner since I can remember, this is good for her.” Her words attempt to convince her more than you, emphasized by the harsh desperate slurping within the empty glass.

Your friend turned 25 in February too.

“Oh wow, so since he was a kid too?” You joke. It doesn’t land.

“Y/n!” She hits your arm, you laugh in return. “What?!” You whine through laughs, this time purposely rocking the swing. “Come on…” It aches like nails on a chalkboard if she thinks about it. Meghan is her mother, she could easily be Doyoung’s mother as well. She knew Doyoung's mother.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She sighs, hands and glass on her lap. “Yes, the age gap is insane but… they’re old enough.” Your friend frowns, another attempt to convince herself and failing miserably.

Raising your hands in defeat, she smiles, continuing her playful acts of harm. “Want a glass?” She offers, you decline, your mind stuck on the beautiful man standing roughly a few feet away from where you two sat. Your head struggles to not turn his way and gawk like you’ve done earlier. It's difficult, you'll find throughout these months.

You knew you shouldn’t be fawning the way you are. After all, he is now Meghan’s husband. Meghan who has treated you like her own child since Pre-K. But God, you couldn’t help admire the way sweat rolled down his face and the way he wiped it away with the back of his delicate hands. 

At this moment, you’re not too bitter about your summer plans being halted. Not when he’s noticed your covetous glances and sly grins. Perhaps that's what started it all. Your restraint, pulling him step by step to where you sat. Sweat adorning his face and forcing his hair to frame his beautiful features, glistening in this sun.

A tender smile to the public eye but a reciprocative grin to you, “Welcome girls.” He smiles, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” He turns halfway to look at the movers entering the home. “Duty calls.”

He was cliche with his words, yet smooth enough to make your grin widen. Like a white collar in those vintage Hollywood movies. His voice, softer than imagined. He drew you in the same way you drew him. It was bound to happen.

Tina shook her head, a dismissive and polite smile. She covers her eyes from the sun which did not ambush either. Rather, it was a futile attempt to shield her emotions, easily projected onto her eyes. It’s not resentment she felt towards him. Discomfort and confusion for his decisions is.

Doyoung looks at you briefly, as if to say “I suppose we are not there yet?”, answered by your own polite smile. He dismissed it immediately, shaking his head with a slight chuckle which forced Tina to uncover her eyes, confused.

“Will you be a dear and get me a drink?” He asks when their eyes finally meet. If it means that he won’t read her any longer, Tina nods standing up. She’s out of the picture faster than he had asked without a care that Doyoung took her spot next to you. 

Doyoung smiles your way, his knee bumping into yours while he settles. You return the smile, looking at the contact. Your legs criss-crossed on the swing and his rocking you both. It’s silent besides the movers and Meghan’s music inside the home. Nevertheless, this feels comfortable, scarily so for a first-time meeting.

“I’m sorry for being the reason you two had to cancel your trip.” Doyoung leans over, elbows on his thighs. His back is on full display, wet shirt clinging to the wide muscles that force your lower lip in between your upper teeth.

Your eyes don’t unglue from him, chills running across your body for such a warm day. You sigh, following a streak and bead of sweat from his temple down to his neck. “It's fine, we didn't want to walk around for hours and see old buildings.” You reassure sarcastically, although the tone deadpans.

“No? But Italy is very beauteous. Meghan recounted, you two had been planning on it as an incentive to get through grad school. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doyoung did not expect to be met with laughter. He was soft spoken, tender, genuinely sorrowful, and a welcoming host. Why must you laugh at him? He’s not too sure.

His quizzical look does not subside, “I was joking, Mr. Kim.” You giggle, wiping at your threatening tears. His eyebrows furrow, yet, folds his handkerchief to a clean corner, doing the task for you. He's so close. So comfortable with being this near to a complete stranger.

“You’re narrowly five years younger than I. Please don't call me that.” He defends petulantly, forgetting about what brought you both to this topic. It sounds insane and dumb to be called that as if he was his father or an old man, he was only thirty.

It is insane and so is marrying a woman who was his current age when he was born.

You hum a response, turning away from him with a slow nod. “Do you always talk like that?” Your voice lures him again, craning his head to look at you. “Like you’re a pretentious liberal arts professor.” It’s lighthearted and mocking at the same time. Your smile slowly forms and he mirrors it.

“My father is a professor. Not for the liberal arts though but perhaps it rubbed off.” “Perhaps.”

He laughs softly in light of your continuing mockery, “Y/n, correct? I fear I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Doyoung shifts in his spot, his body facing you. He extends his hand and you take it. His fingers are nimble and long, his palms clammy but soft, and his grasp is strong but delicate against your own. 

Your smile doesn’t falter, thumb caressing his knuckles, an act he replicates against your own. “Yes… beautiful house by the way. What do you do for a living?" You ask curiously, met by a scolding shriek when Tina and Meghan come out with glasses of lemonade, something you did not want. Lemonade and their interruption, it's interchangeable.

"Y/n those things are not asked!" Meghan scolds, handing Doyoung his glass. He laughs, shaking his head while taking a sip. You watch some of it slip from the corner of his lip. He is such an unfortunate person when it comes to liquids, it seems. Regardless, you wondered what it would be like to clean it off of him…

Someone cleanse you of these thoughts, this is forbidden grounds.

"Why not?" You ask confusedly, looking at the components inside the cup. Nothing but murky pulp-filled sweet water. Your emotions present on your face, perceived wrongly by the only man there who felt it was your response to being scolded. "It's completely fine to ask that now, don't worry." Meghan shoots him a look, irksome at the use of 'now'. She doesn't have to wonder what he meant, only in dissecting his tone.

"I'm an aerodynamicist. Right now we're working on finding a solution to reduce the consumption of fuel." His voice is a pitch higher, tossing that pretentious tone to his words, forgetting his drink while fully turning to everyone as he excitedly gets into the topic. "The main culprit —or so we think— is the wings… let's say the wings of an aircraft. Their shape to be specific contributes to th—" Before he could finish, Meghan hums interrupting. Her words later followed, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fun. Dinner is ready so it's best we stop the chit-chat if we want something warm to eat."

Both you and Tina turn to her mother, a quick glance full of judgment and some surprise. She's never interrupted any of you when passionately speaking about your interests, this was new. Tina doesn't dare look at Doyoung though, she simply walks back inside with her still full drink in hand. Meghan on the other hand waits for him to stand up and follow her. His shoulders slumped and head low, a reassuring smile thrown your way but his dull eyes say otherwise.

"We're glad to have you girls here." Doyoung utters with a nod, turning to follow his wife. "Welcome." The only thing that leaves Meghan's lips. At the time it sounded like that, a welcoming. Now you realize she was responding to the expected devout gratitude for taking you in all those years ago and even now.

What a way to introduce their relationship to you. What a way to cement the reality of the dynamics between all.

There was a foreign air after that fateful day, something you had never expected when it came to spending time with your best friend and her mother. This was stuffy and suffocating. You chopped it to the different location, you will soon find it's the repressed feelings of everyone in this house and of those that lived before.

Meghan tried her best to not show her unwillingness towards her husband, yet it was evident to all that she held animosity for some odd reason. No amount of smiles and reassuring pats could tell any of you otherwise but they satiated him and no one would interfere with that.

Doyoung was doting and sweet. He immersed in conversations to learn more about his guests and later rewarded them with things mentioned in passing. This was his way of showing his affection. It became paternal in a way that you didn't like and in a way that made Tina uncomfortable but which she could understand. Odd, extremely so, considering he could easily be her brother. If she was to voice her dilemmas, Doyoung would fully understand. Yet like you've told her before: "If you don't speak, God won't hear you."

To you, Doyoung was yet another guy that could have been in your college classes. He made sure to act like it when he finally got comfortable and that resulted in joking and lax conversations about his interests and yours, similar to the first day. Giggles and lingering touches, too close at times for two strangers. This way he felt young and correct again.

The downside came the following day, going back to that paternal and reserved front as if he was the same age as his wife and not what he portrayed with you. Treating you and Tina like kids and that's what you both loathed about his time with Meghan. She only seemed to suck the life out of him when night fell.

Doyoung pandered to her and was at her feet with anything she asked, yet she still patronized him and shut him down when he spoke of his career and parents. Meghan never outright spoke of it but she loathed when he brought up his parents. She hated the house, the basement, the attic, the garden, and the greenhouse. She hated that damn greenhouse more than anything.

You couldn't understand where her feelings stood. She had a family, a complete family. A loving and providing husband, a daughter that would always be there for her, and an established and stable home that was all hers for the time being. What more could she ask for?

Despite Meghan's and Tina's inability to feel at home, you found yourself to fit right in in every groove.

Your bare feet are met with soft dewy kisses from the garden's grass as you sprint inside the house towards Doyoung's study. Leaving a trail of dew on the wooden floorboards. Meghan observes you from the kitchen island, pursed lips and raised glasses as you turn the corner and to the hall where those dark panel mahogany double doors greet you, brightening with every knock.

It takes three rhythmic knocks for him to know it's you. Uttering a 'come in' with a light hum. Instinctively, you smile to yourself, hand turning the now golden door knob. Not feeling the grooves of mosaic crystal and cold copper makes you frown. So does the untouched silver tray of breakfast.

You step over it when making your way inside, closing the door behind you and leaning against the cold wood when he does not turn around. Sunlight peaks through the large glass stained bow windows, his desk perfectly curved to fit into the space. The decor on the windows are your favorite.

The greens and pinks perfectly project onto his skin, making him look diaphanous. The lilies and hummingbird paint a story of near-to-death flowers seeking ailment before they perish and like the knights they are, the hummingbirds come to their aid to bring them back to life. He explained it in the way his father had, revealing his mother to be the hummingbird and his father to be the lilies saved from the misery he was in. That explains the devout love his parents had, manifested all throughout the house and the one Doyoung sought.

He now finds the story to be the other way around with no happily ever after. There's no salvation this time.

When he finally turns, he greets you with a tired smile, shoulders slumped and neck aching. He slept on the chaise lounge. The uncomfortable and awfully warm upholstered leather chaise lounge that's too short for his height. He's been there the entire day after last night's argument with Meghan over her trying to clear out his mother's greenhouse and build a shed for her crafts room. She's not content with the basement and she is not content with him giving you your individual room.

"Found you some critters." You open, his smile widens when you pull out the worn paper bag he gave you to put them in. Walking towards him, he takes it from your hands, nimble fingers gracing your drying ones. "Found these stiff on the tomato pots." You point at the caterpillars. "This butterfly was stuck to the tree trunk. Is it acting or actually dead?" Doyoung lets out a sly hum. "No… it does seem like it's near death, though." taking the butterfly out of the bag.

He looks at it for a moment, noticing the lower wings are damaged but covered by the upper wings. "There… clipped." He gently moves the upper wings with the tweezers. "Rather dramatic if you ask me. She is fine to fly but a little caring should not be bad." He stands from his seat, knees cracking to indicate his lack of movement. He places her in the terrarium, it hops around seeking the flowers you've helped him pick.

It's silent for a moment, he hums a melody while scolding the butterfly as he feeds her sugar water. You sit on his desk chair, swiveling while drumming around the taxidermy scalpels — A few of these have left some scratches on your fingers. He makes sure to lock his items inside his desk drawers, Meghan has explained her disdain and disgust for his hobby and in fear of her digging through and tossing them like she's done with the taxidermy decor, he takes extra precautions.

"Why haven't you eaten?"

Your voice makes him turn, closing the door to the terrarium. He leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a grasp of his jaw. Rubbing it as if he was thinking of an answer. He can't lie to you though, he knows you're able to see through his lies. At least surface level, it's the small things he grants you.

"I don't like omelettes. She knows that." He confesses. "I don't like black tea and that is what's on the tray." Your leg raises, feet now dry but stained with that yellow-green hue. Your cheek rests against your bruised knee while taking in his words. He watches all your actions, biting the inside of his cheek as punishment for looking at your limbs.

"Want me to make you anything?" There's some innocence in your voice that warms his chest. Interlaced with your desire to please. Please, please, please.

He smiles fondly, eyes fluttering, and a warm feeling in his chest.

"Don't coddle me." "Generosity."

He slowly approaches you, rearranging the scalpels you played with. He looks down, analyzing you like you were one of his dissected butterflies. Pretty, soft, and delicate. Doyoung knows it's wrong to think of you this way. He's allowed Meghan to fuck the thoughts away from him but they cling to his brain while they're at it. It's vile and disgusting. The act to be precise.

"Is she still upset about the room?" You look up at him, resting against the backrest. He takes a closer look at your outfit. Denim high rise shorts, white lace short strap top, and red ribbon in your hair that he wrapped around the strands a while ago and you never got rid of. The same one he uses to decorate bigger taxidermy species like the squirrels the neighborhood cat leaves laying on the porch. You want to think it's metaphoric but you sound stupid trying to find a connection despite the words lingering in the tip of your tongue. Fresh and clear on his mind.

"I don't mind taking the attic, it's nice and cozy. Your dad did a good job decorating it." A reassuring smile that he does not accept. "What are you, Harry Potter? It's your room and it's my house." That first day during dinner, Doyoung expressed his gratitude to you for being part of their family. It did not pertain to him, he believed family deserved their own space.

His actions worked to ease and win Tina over even if it was a tad but Meghan felt a stabbing sense in her lower stomach and a scratch in her brain that made a whirling dark orb manifest. It's the same feeling that brews the longer she stands behind those mahogany doors hoping to hear what is said but the whispered mutters and her aged ear drums hand no aid.

Doyoung pulls his footstool, taking a seat before you. His hands trickle down to your foot, picking off the remaining blades that stain his own hands. He looks up at you when he reaches for a wipe, the green stains cling when the fabric graces the arch of your sole.

"It tickles." You state, he hums. Fingers press harder. "Better?" You nod. He looks at you during the ministration, putting your foot down delicately to do the same with the other. You watch his every move and he receives your gaze with a smile when he meets it. "My mom would do this when I would run around the garden. She hated when I left stains on the floors. Said they wouldn't come off but when I would go to sleep she painted over the footprints and re-stain the floor." He smiles fondly, warming up your skin from the cold, damp wipe. His fond touch doing most of the job.

"It sounds like a prank that turned into preservation. Maybe she liked seeing your growth. Meghan marked our growth on the walls of her apartment. I'm sure the landlord has painted over them now."

He hums, taking in the comparison. It's cute, nice and nostalgic but it highlights the passage of time and how mortal things seem around you and the other two. How mortal things around him can be too.

Doyoung is doting and sweet. Soft and gentle, immersing himself in his actions to not hurt the other. You envy Meghan, you're sure of it now.

"You should really put shoes on, I can't keep cleaning your feet." "You have no obligation."

He looks at you the way Mary Magdalene did when washing Jesus' feet. He looks at you like his savior and redeemer, you're not sure why or you haven't been able to fully understand him yet.

He nods, his growing finger nails pinching below your toes. You wince, confusedly looking at him. "The critters will recognize your pattern and their missing friends. Don't cry when you're pinched," He playfully scolds the way his parents used to do; voice lowering upon seeing a shadow come from under the doors. "I won't be able to kiss the pain away." He raises your foot, the action new but comforting to your taste. His eyes don't tear away when his plush lips come in contact with your newly cleaned feet. It's soft, warm, sort of wet but nice enough for you to let your hand reach for where he touches.

This is wrong, plentiful wrong but Adam (Doyoung) will drag you to take a bite of that forbidden fruit if he keeps going.

Something ate away at Meghan the longer she stood behind those thick doors. The same way ants crawled around the food she had made him earlier. That made her aching worse and if she didn't open those doors now, she won't remain sane.

She takes a few breaths in, noise seizing to come through, making things far more unsettling. Decidedly, she pushes through, opening both doors dramatically, taking in the image of her husband and faux daughter. Her eyes waver as her voice wants to do. Impotence and defeat.

Nothing.

"Must you punish me?" She directly questions. Her eyes fleeting to your lax position on his chair, recognizing the ribbon from the decor she threw out and his proximity to you. "You can't knock?" He turns his attention back to his craft, as if he had not been kneeling before you seconds prior. "Rehydration solution, Y/n."

With a syringe, he injects it onto the body of the second butterfly while you wet a paper towel, taking a beaker of solution to the other side of the room. You don't speak, following the steps he's taught you in the process.

"It's my house." Meghan states. "It's my house." Doyoung corrects.

The older woman glares. If looks could kill, the house would be hers once and for all.

"The ants are eating your breakfast." "Oh good, they'll stay away from the peonies."

He smiles to himself, Meghan can't see it but she's sure of it and that irks her more. She turns to your moving figure, handing him a warmer solution to pour in the container and put the critters in. Taking in the interaction, her eye spasms. The green stains on his slacks and your clean feet. She has no proof nor a concrete case but she knows it was nothing decent. Disturbed by the bond, she swallows her huff but not the irking orb that eats away her love for you.

"Y/n, give us some alone time." She bites, her words laced with the venom of the centipede he's wrapping around stiff caterpillars. "We're not done with this." He tuts. Meghan, appalled by his opposition, allows her jaw to slack. Her emotions are rampant and fiery that he would contradict her. That he found it in himself to not slouch his shoulders and go along with her decisions.

Your gaze flits between them, their glaring not seizing. The tension is palpable, leading you to fumble the cloth holding onto the piping hot beaker. You know how hot glass can be but when you're the magnetic pull that's causing this, it's something you don't focus on.

Your shriek forces them to break their combat, that motherly look Meghan often had returns when she sees your irritated hand and the way you fall back onto his chair the moment the scalding solution splashes over your bare feet.

They rush towards you, watching their step over the broken pieces of glass. While Meghan attempts to question if you're okay, Doyoung is already in the process of rubbing Silvadene over the light burn of your palm. She watches in amazement how delicate he is. His fingers grace over the skin, if it wasn't stinging you'd repeat that it tickles. And if his wife wasn't here, he'd replicate the image of soothing your aching feet with kisses.

With every passing second, Meghan feels that obscure orb grow and grow. Her motherly instinct is consumed by it, disgusted queries plaguing her heart and soul seeing him sit on the foot stool and place your feet over his lap. This is how the stains on his slacks came to be. His nimble digits rubbing the ointment on noticeable ailments and on spots you pointed at with minute pained whimper that she'll take as pleasure.

This isn't right. Meghan no longer feels like a mother to you. And this is only one of many instances her feelings are reassured.

Doyoung didn’t want to argue any longer in the dark depths of his cold bedroom. It was amazing how quickly his marriage was falling apart in the span of a few weeks when the two shared a beautiful —so he’s forcing himself to think— relationship. Now all he can do is whisper his grievances to his wife who finds it disrespectful that he’s rebutting her own arguments due to his age.

Meghan will never say it out loud but she respects Doyoung less and expects him to treat her like his superior for said gap, forgetting they were in a relationship and should both treat each other accordingly and not like mother-son; disgustingly.

Said argument is what led a tired Doyoung to sigh heavily on his way out of the bedroom in hopes of relaxation by either watching something in the media room or basking in the night’s breeze while sitting on the porch swing with a glass of whiskey on the rocks or an ice cold beer.

The latter makes him smile fondly.

Decidedly, Doyoung pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet absorbing the coldness of the wooden floors, ignoring his scolding after you burnt your feet. The closer he got to the large room, the sound of his padding mellowed out compared to the rummaging of items. For a second he feared they'd gotten an infestation of mice. It would not be the first time the house had any.

His inquiries were disposed of once reaching the kitchen when he saw such a pretty image that made him relax. And similar to the mice he once fended against years ago with his father, you sat in front of the fridge, feasting, with a bottle of whipped cream at hand. Allowing the sweet dairy to fall upon a strawberry that you indelicately shoved into your mouth without a care that its juice spilled from the corner of your lips and the dairy followed behind, creating a light pink ribbon to decorate your pretty lips the way those glosses you often smear do.

It oddly reminds him of the first day you two met. He looks at you the same way you looked at him. Lingering and foreign attraction, although it's not so foreign now.

It's not right, but you're closer and closer to taking a bite out of that apple.

You don't bother cleaning the cream off, continuing to push the berries into your mouth. One after another as your stomach yearns for more. You could’ve continued, although halt at his endeared chuckle. You're startled, feeling a cold sweat wash through your entire body. If there was one thing you hated was people catching you eating late at night. More so when you're filling your aching body with self targeted disgust and sweets. Like a child, the one he treats you as when the other two are near but forgotten about when it's just you two.

This is what holds you back, the apple seems so rotten and further at times.

Doyoung doesn't speak, walking towards you with a napkin in hand, taken on his way. He crouches down to your level, making you break out of that frozen state. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes following his, seeking any reaction. “For what?” He questions sweetly, hand cupping your jaw softly. Shooting you a quick glance and smile before continuing his ministration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come down to eat in secrecy.” You swallow hard, a lump formed in your throat with his touch, unaware of when. “I know she doesn't like it but usually she comes up to tell me dinner was ready and…” You shrug, meek voice making his chest compress, he senses unwarranted guilt. As if it was your fault his wife kept using food as punishment.

Meghan had told him you were asleep, not that she didn't let you know dinner was ready and that disquiets him. His eyebrows furrow, other hand reaches your face, softly wiping the strawberry juice with his thumb. Licking it beforehand. Doyoung is closer and closer with every passing day. Just last night his touch lingered in between your thigh and knee, you imagine he'll reward you and slip his fingers between your lips soon. Whichever ones and you won't be opposed to it like prior times.

Doyoung gives you a semi-scolding look, “I've told you before. It's my house, you can eat whenever and whatever you want, Y/n." He pats your cheek, pecking it for reassurance. The action startles you every time. They never feel soft and innocent. Always intentional but when he pulls back and gives you a reassuring smile, it forces you to ponder how much you want his generosity to be more than that? It's wrong, you're aware of it, always will be.

His touch lingers a little longer, fleeting stares from your own eyes to lips as his pads waltz across your skin until he finally finds it in himself to let go. “Still hungry?” He asks, helping you up. Ready to deny, your stomach rumbles loudly, giving you no time to privy it of its rights for yet another day. Doyoung simply nods with a smile, cocking his head to the entrance.

“Put your shoes on, let's see what's open at this hour.” “It’s very late to eat a big meal, Mr.Kim…”

The smile on his lips attempts not to falter at what you call him. Doyoung hated it with his entire soul. You weren't going to seize as long as he didn't seize treating you like Tina, like you're his stepdaughter too. Although, in this instant it's punishment for making you feel so ill and needy.

You want more, you crave more, but you can't have more.

It's odd to you how both can easily bask in the delicacy of tense intimacy and this… disgusting forced idea of a familial relationship at times. Especially when they would intertwine like it is now. You hate him for it sometimes. 'Coward' is what bounces in your head often when his touch lingers just to treat you like he treats Tina when his sick brain tells him to.

Regardless, Doyoung doesn't get to respond or scold, his bedroom door slams and Meghan has reached the kitchen watching as he crouches over you. She sees the dirtied napkin and your red lips. She sees his hand ghosting over your cheek and the (bitter) smile he had falters when his eyes land on her. While with you it was full of fondness and amusement (she believes), disgust greets her. She's been aware of it for a while now.

"Y/n go to your room." She demands lowly, her hands clinging to her sleeping pants. "No." Doyoung interferes, and like that day in his study, Meghan glares at him, offended by his insistence on speaking back to her like a child disrespecting their elders. "Go to sleep." She grits out, turning to you. You stand up, keeping a distance from Doyoung who immediately speaks. "Go put your shoes on, let's go get you something to eat."

Meghan's lips fall ajar. A scoff and slight cackle hearing his words and the soft look he shoots you. "Are you fucking serious right now?" She asks infuriated, walking closer and slapping his hand off of your arm which aided in stabilizing you when getting up.

"She's hungry, Meghan." Doyoung spits back, disgust building in his gaze. His wife shoots him a response with hers, almost saying "That's not my concern." but the words don't leave her for she knows it will push things further. It's futile, Doyoung scowls and his head slowly shakes the longer he looks at her. There it is, that disgust once again and it eats away at her.

"You told me she was asleep. I didn't take you for someone gluttonous." Meghan could only describe the brewing feeling as embarrassment and pure seething rage. Who did Doyoung think he was to confront her like this? Implication full of disgust and hitting her where he knew it hurt. More so in front of the one causing all the problems. With your faux naivety and innocent looks. With that cunning smile you shoot her when around him. Meghan knows what you are, she knows what men like and she's experiencing it before her eyes. Men are weak.

If you were to peak inside her head and heart, that obscure growing orb was nothing but rotting tar.

"Don't be insolent. Don't bring that up in front of her!" She spits out, "Y/n go to your room!" Disturbed by being undermined by two people she deemed lesser than her. Doyoung attempts to stop you again, his grip a bit harsher than before. You look at where his hand is. This is familiar, revoltingly so. You feel like a child in the middle of their parents' argument. Getting pulled left and right until they tear you apart stitch by stitch. It's painful in all senses and when Meghan opens her mouth to yell at her husband, you screw your eyes, shaking your head and freeing yourself from his grasp.

"I'll go. I'll go… I'll go. Please." You repeat like a mantra, hoping your words will make it all end. The latter begging them to not include you, to leave you alone and forget that your existence is brewing something between them.

You always wonder how Tina is able to sleep through this and not wake up from their screaming. They no longer attempt to hide the potency of their vocal chords nor their words. You know they talk about you when the muffled voices take over or when Doyoung tells her to lower her voice while she laughs maliciously about how much of a vile, disgusting, and infelicitous asshole he is. Otherwise, you know their problems stem from their joint resentment about the power dynamics.

When two people want the same thing at the same time, things are bound to burn over.

Doyoung didn't take long to walk out after she called him those names again. Throwing in his face that he's a pretentious brat with nothing worth fighting for. Meghan has found going against his upbringing to be successful in debilitating him. The only downside is that he loathes her more and more and respects her as much as she does him. Very little to null.

Sleep fleets away. Fear floods you with the idea that Meghan was capable of barging into your room any second now and reproach you for ruining her marriage. She doesn't tell you directly and neither do the other two in the house but her demeanor change is more than clear. Her warm smiles are officially gone, cold and resentful glares replace them. And she no longer cares that they call her out for ignoring you.

Her hugs are foreign to you and her food no longer is edible. That love she once poured into her meals is gone with her motherly instincts. It aches, horribly so. You've known her and Tina since you began your academic career. When your parents couldn't pick you up or take you to school, Meghan was there. Summers were spent with them like this one with the exception that they were the happiest memories.

You have Tina, you know that. She's your sister. Although, you would prefer to not see her argue with her mother about you or see them give each other the cold shoulder after. You don't want her relationship with her mother to worsen, that's the last thing you want but you can't control what people feel. You're aware of that, Meghan isn't.

It's 1:00AM when sleep finally comes back to you and you feel safe enough. The comforter brings you the warmth you're lacking but isn't able to fill your chest. Soft lamentable sighs have left your lips all night over how horrid this summer has turned.

A part of you blames Doyoung. His addition has ruined the balance the three of you had. His cowardice of accepting Meghan's punches and seeking her motherly care during those years blinded him of the bigger picture — it's quite obvious now, confirmation is all you needed.

The other part of you accepts that Meghan is a decrepit insecure woman who seeks power and control of anyone that isn't her and that fills you with both anger and hurt, feeling no immense remorse for threading around Doyoung the way you do. You're allowed to indulge yourself from time to time.

Meghan wants puppets, not family.

Immersed in your pity and vexation, you don't notice when your bedroom window opens. The latch closing is what makes you turn around startled. A dark figure creeping through the shadows, tall and slim. Fright replaces the sleep you felt, manifested in an attempt to scream until your mouth is hastily covered with warm clammy hands that you instantly recognize by the bony nimble fingers. Doyoung.

A finger to his lips, shushes you, he sits on the corner of your bed. You swallow, your head spinning and light front the freight he just caused you. When you relax, you shake your head with a silent laugh. "You scared me," 'Asshole' silently balanced on your tongue. "For a second you made me believe Nosferatu was real." You joke, "But that would mean an old hag has been haunting me for ages, and I just met you." He pats your cheek almost condescendingly without saying sorry but meaning it. At least you think he's sorry.

"Here." He smiles — the most he does to entertain you—, handing you a bag you hadn't noticed earlier. That may explain the sweet smell of warm blueberries waltzing through the room to sedate you and make you more receptive to what he offers. "You didn't have to." You protest, he meets it with a shake of his head and raises a hand letting you know to just be quiet and take it. He does it with a smile on his face and it irritates you but it's also very beautiful that you oblige. "Thank you." You croon, a smile involuntarily creeping on your face. He responds to your words with a caress of your cheek.

"I've told you to not call me Mr. Kim before, haven't I?" His words slow down your movement, smile faltering. "Is that not your name?" You quip, giving him a quick glance while cutting the waffle into squares. It's warm and soft, as he is. Unfortunately if it's left in the open for too long, it will harden and rot. As he will.

There's some tenderness in his gaze, muddled with the same irascibility Meghan looks at him with when he talks back to subvert her. It makes your eyebrows furrow while you slowly chew, it's an odd feeling. Unfortunately for you, he's smart enough to read a person and divert the conversation. It so happens to be that he doesn't do it with Meghan anymore because he enjoys seeing her peeved and red.

He's become so cynical. The things marriage does to you.

"Regardless, please don't call me that, you make me feel old." "You are old." Your teasing makes him gasp, jaw slack with semi-offense before ruffling your hair, destroying the braid. You laugh at his actions, successfully forgetting his earlier look.

"I'm only five years older than you!" He whisper-yells, offense still imprinted onto his being. "Then don't treat me like you're much older." Spoken in between laughs, your words do settle in his mind. Doyoung knows this happens often, it disgusts him but at the same time it keeps him morally sane.

Yes, he touches you more than he should. But he balances it out by indulging your childish attributes that make you act bubbly and younger around him.

Yes, he looks at you with rapidly growing attraction and lust. But he balances it by teaching you step by step on how to maintain perfectly taxidermied insects the way paternal figures do.

He understands and feels that underlying disgust. It's self-punishment for thinking about you when he is married despite loathing the woman. His attraction to you is punishment for that alone.

He should still remain a good man. He is a good man.

Until he learns to enjoy the power trip. He can somewhat understand his wife for that.

Coward.

His smile begins to lose its intensity, nodding while getting comfortable on your bed. He's receptive when you feed him squares here and there, making sure to look directly in your eyes when he takes them into his mouth. Lips wrapping around the black plastic fork and lapping at the syrup hiding between the backside grooves just to watch you immediately replicate his actions. It's a soothing dance, ego indulgent to know you take what he gives.

"Listen," You feed him again. "I'm sorry for earlier." He covers his mouth, "For continuing to put you in those situations, truly sorry." His hand goes up to his chest, his wedding band is gone, causing a warm feeling to brew in your stomach, manifested as an involuntary smile on your lips.

You shrug, nonchalantly as if it didn't matter when you knew it did. "Not my first rodeo." You mutter, feeding him the last bit before placing the tray on the nightstand. He looks at you, taking in your reactions and the stuck sigh that you finally release when he doesn't prod.

You never spoke of your own family. It was always Meghan and Tina this, Meghan and Tina that. At the beginning he wondered if they would be preoccupied knowing you were here, meeting a stranger despite being in safe hands. Yet after a month he noticed the conflicting projected emotions on your face when he spoke about his parents and how loving to each other they've always been. He could tell admiration and resentment were bigger emotions you carried. Now it does not surprise him that you're saying this. More so, it's confirmation.

"How did you even meet her, by the way? I just can't think of a scenario where you'd meet a woman like Meghan."

Curiosity and petulance lace your voice. He smiles to himself, taking your hand into his, reassured he was taking the right steps when you reluctantly relax against his touch. "My mom grew up in a house with four brothers. She always felt the need to prove she was as important as them. You know, rough housing, sports, academics, that sort of thing." He shrugs, "Futile because my grandparents loved and supported her no matter what she did. There truly was no difference in their treatment of the five — very progressive, they were. Kind of holistic— she simply made that rivalry up in her head."

You'd ask what any of this had to do with your question, but Doyoung likes to speak, he likes to speak about his parents. Even if it was a simple redaction.

"So she spent her entire life doing things that would put her far away from those related to housewives. Never learned how to cook, clean, gardening was her only token but that's because she was a botanist. My dad did everything else." He laughs, fond memories of seeing his dad in frilly aprons and pink mittens. He chose them, all the decor was his pick. Doyoung only ever lets you use them when you're in the kitchen.

"This was ten years ago, I was visiting them from college for the summer when I found she had created a crafts room out of this room." His free hand points around the walls of your room, wallpaper in a quilt design explaining it all. "She said she was too old to not know basic things like mending a hole in dad's socks or helping him with dinner. That he was getting old and weak too, it was a job for two to get anything out of the oven."

He hums, gaze on your interlocked hands. "So I drove her daily to these classes at the community center. That's when I first met Meghan, she was there to teach the classes. Nothing went past pleasantries and my mom joking about how I'd look good with Tina."

Selfish you are for letting vile manifest and spread through your chest when hearing those words. Tina… Tina couldn't handle Doyoung. They can't even stand to be in a room together without it being awkward. So selfish of you to make this about yourself, squeezing his hand scolding. He takes it with humor, feigning not noticing for the sake of his ego.

"Of course my mom didn't know Tina's age, when she realized how much younger she was, she stopped the jokes. They became somewhat friends, never seeing each other outside the community center to my knowledge. I didn't see Meghan for years after that but three years ago when my mom's Alzheimer's worsened and she had forgotten the difference between toxic versus non toxic liquids, she ended up poisoning herself by drinking insecticide. Later we found cleaning supplies with her lipstick on the mouth. It's at the funeral that I saw Meghan again and she was there for my dad and I…"

You didn't imagine this would take that turn. He always spoke so fondly of his parents like they were still around somewhere. Never said where but still around. You now realize it's their lingering presence around everything here.

"I'm sorry, Doyoung…" He dismisses you, shaking his head and kissing your hand. He's trying to control his labored breathing, warm and harsh against your skin, his hand clammy.

"Dad felt so guilty for it all. He taught about the development of the human brain, did neuroscience studies for the university and certain labs here and there all his life and he couldn't save his own wife. So… he left me too. He left for a study, who knows where and I haven't heard from him since." He smiles, a sort of bitterness that he didn't want to have for his father. Reluctance to accept that it was perhaps more than a trip. "Lawyers came days after he left, everything left to my name on both their ends. Meghan had been the only one to check in on me besides extended family but they live far away, there's not much they could do."

Guilt floods you. Why couldn't you just push back that desire to belittle Meghan more in your mind. The worst part is that your brain won't stop telling you that she only took advantage of his vulnerability. Sweet, vulnerable Doyoung who lost his parents in a span of weeks left to rot on his own with a huge house, assets, and a desire to give and give to anyone willing to comfort him. Convenient.

Doyoung hums, sitting up. The silence helps him admire you, or simply distract himself from this gushing open wound. The braid he destroyed, cascading over your shoulder. Shoulder covered in a thick light yellow lace strap with matching ribbons on the chest. He smiles noticing the small details, he recalls helping you sneak into Meghan's craft room to make that night gown. Fabric and ribbon he took from his mother's stash.

She would like you, he believes so.

"You've made good use of the marigold dye." Doyoung smiles, his hand reaching to touch the strap. His fingers dance over it, letting them touch your skin. It's cruel and mean but very elating. He's been playing this teasing game and unfortunately, it's you who wants it more. From then on, they inch closer to the ribbon. Fingers jumping on every spot and ending on the bow, delicately admiring it.

Truth be told he kept his touch there to feel the increase of your respiration. Chest moving up and down faster than previously. He smiles to himself, almost mischievously when he notices a new item around your neck. "The roses too… my mother would have been so content with you." He giggles, patting your cheek prior to giving himself the liberty to touch the rose beads that form a necklace.

She would like you, he's sure of it.

"Very ingenious, so good." Doyoung hums, his hand trails to hold your neck. You nod slowly, entranced in your humiliating arousal from just his touch. You feel pubescent, frothing at the mouth from one touch. Stupid. He's just another man… a man that coddles and holds you in secrecy. It's the forbidden excitement laced with guilt at how treacherous the human mind and body can be.

Clearing your throat, you look around, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, well, she has a lovely and fruitful garden… Greenhouse too, I found some purple cabbages from the spring season, they'd make a lovely dye." You divert but his touch doesn't fall, his other hand opts to join on your cheek, cradling it.

Instinctively you lean into it, forcing you to look at him. There's no teasing or patronizing looks on his end and you're thankful for it. It's full blown admiration and desire in those dark orbs that pull you closer to him while he caresses you. They allow themselves to rake your face. Every feature but most of all your lips and eyes, longing to land on your pupils as to bless whatever you see. On your forehead to reassure that he is your safe haven as you are becoming his. It oddly reminds you of the looks he gave when cleaning your feet before the accident. Like Mary Magdalene admiring her savior.

Doyoung thinks he is allowed this indulgence for once. He can punish himself after but he can no longer go without tasting your skin on his lips, he feels so famished. Letting out a shaky breath, he softly rises, bringing your head closer to him. Breath labored with every move and warm against your skin when he's mere centimeters from it. Shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, letting them fall on your eyelids.

Velvet and moist, that's how his lips feel. You sigh in relief, unaware you had been holding your breath. His lip travels to the other eyelid, it's quick unlike prior, for he rushes to kiss your forehead, lingering for as long as he can before letting out a content sigh of his own, and a liberated smile. He wants to laugh at how absurd he is being but that would only keep wasting time.

Doyoung is so close to your lips when he decides it is best to take the full risk, however you both hear the soft knocks against your door and the rattling of the doorknob. He can't describe the feeling as freight, more so irreverent wrath.

"Y/n? Y/n why is the door locked?"

Tina.

The man instantly pulls away. His touch burns you both and guilt manifests itself through blown out pupils — your own, not his. Your lips are ajar when he places his finger up to his own, like the way he entered your room and disappears the same way. He says nothing and neither do you, opening the door when he's not in view.

The doorknob continues to rattle until she feels the weight of your hand on it. You sigh heavily before opening the door, looking at her blankly which she notices but does not mention. She never does.

"I heard voices." "I'm watching a movie."

She hums. She believes you. She believes you. She does…

"Why was the door locked?" She asks, concern on her face. When your eyes divert from hers, she can tell something had gone on. You usually enjoy having her know everything about you. That's what best friends do, yet at the moment you loathe her for it. That's what sisters do. That gnawing disturbance of frustration and impotency. The type she's felt this entire summer break.

You simply hum, she giggles.

"How bad was it now?" She now finds humor in knowing she always sleeps through their arguments. It's not so funny to you. "Nothing special, I was in the kitchen when he stormed out then she followed behind and they went at it after I left." She giggles once more. Unsure now if it's because she actually finds it comedic or she doesn't know how to respond.

This is her mother and her happiness they're talking about. This is you, her best friend and your friendship on the line.

It’s not like you can tell her that her stepfather defending you from her mom for the millionth time isn’t pushing her into deeper hatred. It’s not like you can tell her that her mother purposely starved you for the day out of pure unadulterated jealousy because her husband desires you more than her. No, can you? No. Silence and lies will do.

"Hey, did you know how Meghan and Doyoung met?" You ask, looking at where had laid. Tina shrugs, "She told me they saw each other at a coffee shop from time to time and talked since then. She doesn't like coffee though." She shrugs again.

Oh Tina. Willfully ignorant and avoidant. Perhaps the story is right but you're sure that if Tina fully knew her mother had met doyoung ten years younger with baby fat still on his cheeks and younger than she is, her dilemma would only worsen. Coward.

Unlike Tina, Meghan didn't hesitate in barging in after a few minutes. It leaves you and her daughter dumbfounded when the angry look becomes bewildered and disappointed, like she had expected to find something (or someone) to prove her suspicions.

"Mom?"

Meghan acknowledges it with a sigh, "Go to sleep, it's late." Making you both feel ten again at one of multiple sleepovers during school nights. Tina responds with a nod. You, you look at her for any trace of something. There's worry, that's for sure. And there's also anger. Nothing new.

The front door is slammed downstairs, causing Tina to get a startled look on her face that is reassured when Meghan shakes her head, dismissively. She opens her mouth to calm her daughter when a disgusting thought tells you to do the talking for her. She deserves even this bit.

"It's Doyoung, don't worry."

And it's disturbing to Meghan that you spoke her thoughts, word for word while looking at her.

Meghan has gotten her confirmation for the night.

That night had given some clarity to Doyoung. Arguments with his wife seized for the most part and before they could begin, he was out the door for his nightly runs. That's what she believed at least. He tampered with his smartwatch to mark his steps knowing she would look through it.

Reality is that he crept up the trellis to your room. Spending the nights under the covers with earphones in, door locked, lights off, and a movie lulling you to sleep while getting a few whispered conversations in here and there. His lips or yours pressed against each other's ear. It was the closest to kissing you would get at.

When you do fall asleep, he tucks you in. Caresses your hair and kisses your forehead goodnight before crawling back down the trellis and entering through the front door. To continue his reality of being married to a woman that no longer treats him with the care he sought but at least he can provide it for you and that you've slowly been returning.

Doyoung has taken that into account and rewards you for it. The gifts were small at first, snacks that Meghan wouldn't allow into the house, books in your wish list. They later became more intricate. Your personal taxidermy and diaphonization kits (locked in his study), pendants of the critters utilized, a camera to document your process, and the most recent being two chickens and doves.

The animals irked his wife more than anything. She has spent the past two months arguing about tearing down the greenhouse and it only took you a mention of the excess of caterpillars and worms in there for him to bring in the chickens. You looked after them, sure, however the chickens with free range left their eggs and droppings everywhere. It felt intentional how she found them laying on her clean laundry, pecked her if they saw her, and worse off stained all of her fabric. They abhor her as much as she does them.

At least the bleeding-heart doves are lovely to look at despite their cold shoulder towards her. Tina gets a ruffle of feathers, you and Doyoung some crooning, and spooning among each other when it's you and him peering upon them. It's the small things that drive her deeper into her madness.

Like seeing you sit criss-crossed on the plush bright grass. It's dewy again, much taller now than it was before but he promised to mow soon. Right now he's too busy hammering in old nails onto stained wood and footprints —yours and his— to create a coup for the chickens. Not by her demand, no. He'd never take hers seriously, but yours.

"Diaphonized insects are horrid. They're all brown. I think I should give wet species a chance." Doyoung takes your words in, a simple chuckle looking at your pout. Petulant and spoiled. "Y/n, you're not drying them fast enough." He corrects, you shrug knowing he may be right but working with insects has bored you. "Either way, centipedes and spiders look disgusting in those vials."

The chickens flock around you, pecking the ground. Their clucking became louder, frustrated the longer they weren't able to obtain what they wanted. Doyoung gives them a quick glance, a fastidious kind of melody, one he isn't used to. Neither are you according to the stink eye you give them. It's pleasant to Meghan, leaning against the sink with peering bright eyes, it feels like justice for once.

It's a delicacy. Your desperate attempts to calm them down, Doyoung's hammering exasperating the chickens, and finally… A loud and pained screech from you, pushing away the hen that victoriously clucks as it swallows the culprit of your scream. One of the neighbor's centipedes.

Doyoung drops his tools, rushing to your aid. He watches you tumble, attempting to stand, however the aching sting and burn on your foot doesn't allow it. Meghan watches every movement from you both. Your disgruntled whines and moans, his shushes in an attempt to calm you down. Hands clasping around your feet, soothing the inflamed bump in hopes it did something. It didn't, it irritated the wound further.

"I told you the critters would recognize your feet." He jokes, scolding in the process. The stinging is intense enough that waspishly, you huff, pouting his way. "Nuh-uh." You reply, rolling your eyes when he throws in a glare. He shakes his head, finally sitting, his knees aching. Like the day you burnt your feet, he takes your feet in his lap, looking over the wound while your soles leave stains again.

He smiles to himself, an airy laugh as if he was coming up with something, fingers waltzing over the bite. "I told you to put shoes on, I won't always be here to help you." Smile turns into a grin, teasing as he lets his lips fall over the wound.

It stings. The warmth of his own flesh against the boiling fire of yours, it's not pleasant and you make it known. With the exception that it comes out strangled and pleasured. Much to his delight, making his lips part, tongue gracing the area just to add more pain and more pretty sounds to leave you.

It's an erotic image to anyone who experiences and sees it. Meghan feels the boiling pain in her chest, the same way you do on your foot. The only difference is that Doyoung won't attempt to soothe hers. He won't even acknowledge it.

Doyoung is looking up at you with a curling smile, lips pulling apart from your skin, eyes raking the expanse of your exposed thigh when the dress rode up. " Met with a harsh pull, Meghan reaches both of you, hands on Doyoung who stumbles to stand up. It's hard to decipher what her expressions read, all emotions coursing through like a bad acid trip, colors roaming around in a slew.

Anger, disgust, pain, defeat, resentment. It made no difference, it was all negative.

"How do you plan on defending this now, huh?" She asks, wavering voice when she looks between you two. "What could you possibly say to make this look normal, Doyoung?!" Her voice rose, startling Tina who had been in the entertainment room when she heard your scream. Like usual, she opts to remain where she's at. It's no use involving herself when she's known how this would all end since the beginning.

"Sucking the venom out, Meghan. Fuck me, why do you have to make everything so salacious?" Doyoung grits, a tone she had not fallen for years ago.

His speech and tone has changed within these months. He no longer spoke like a poised character, he spoke like you. He smelt like you and his quirks adapted to yours. Doyoung was no longer Meghan's and that's a fact she's finding difficult to deal with. Similar to how parents aren't able to understand the autonomy of a child as they grow.

Frustratingly so, his response made sense to her. She's seen it in movies, she's read about it — so she thinks. Unfortunately for her, this was only a sting, like a mosquito or a bee sting, something that will subside with ointment just like your burns weeks prior. There was nothing to suck out nor was it recommended.

"How convenient." She scoffs. Meghan hated how upset she was. She knew this was bound to happen and why she kept her relationship hidden from you for the past two years.

Meghan knew your interests, knew your beliefs, and knew you her entire life. She knew how drawn everyone instantly is to you and woefully, she knew Doyoung would be one of those people too. She was proven right the first day when she saw him approach you on that swing and converse so easily. Touch you so easily…

It never got better as the days went by. Why was it so easy for him to cave and give you a room? A room meant for her hobbies. A room meant for hobbies, as his mother had wanted. Why did he allow you into his study without hesitance when she could only remain for five minutes or so? Why did he have to please you by offering dinner? It's been a while since he's taken her out to dinner. Yes, it was wrong of her to privy you of basic needs but earlier in the day she had seen you so content in that stupid greenhouse and understood fully why he kept refusing to tear it down besides grief. You kept it alive just like his mother did.

Her jealousy doesn't outweigh her disdain for being undermined. Like a person working night and day, loyal to one job for years on end and aging throughout them to be replaced like nothing by a new set of fresh meat. A kick to the rear and a big "Fuck you, you're no longer useful and too old for us to care about your opinion." That's how her relationship with Doyoung felt when he met you.

When they started dating, Doyoung sought her sweet reassuring words and pet names. Her gentle touches and pats when he did a good job. Her comforting food and the affection she gave Tina. It was pleasant, she knew what he wanted all along and she was more than willing to give it to him as long as he reciprocated her own desires. Surrendering control and devotion.

Those things no longer belonged to her. His devotion shifted to you —she's witnessed it on multiple accounts— and control is his again. That's one way of looking at things. He moves her and Tina into his home, doesn't let her make any changes and instead rubs it in her face that you adore the house and its quirks. His house and his quirks.

If everything reminded her already of his parents, it now reminds her of you too and how much more power ghosts and a child have rather than her.

Meghan scoffs and huffs every now and then while rebutting his arguments. He mimics them to show her how absurd she is being. It's a never ending cycle they've grown comfortable with but that needs to stop. This isn't what either signed up for when they legally bound their love. If you can even call it that, it's more than clear both were pitifully lonely and disturbed.

"Are you even hearing yourself, seriously?" Doyoung sighs, offended at the implications she kept throwing at him. His thoughts may be vile and depraved when it comes to you but he's punished himself enough. Meghan doesn't seem to understand that while he now recognizes he never did love her, rather sought the affection of a mother, he was bound to honor those vows.

But he was only a man and men are weak.

Meghan has double the years of experience he does and she knows that if you ever stop seeing her with those same eyes Doyoung once saw her with and which Tina is bound to by the universe's request, and gave him free reign, he'd take the opportunity without a thought.

"No, are you hearing yourself? Better yet, do you see what you do?!" She glares, "You enable her to do whatever she wants. Parade around my home as if it was hers. Make a mess of the floorboards, lock herself with you in that stupid study, for what? Your disgusting bugs? Really, Doyoung it's odd how much time you two spend together, you don't even spend that time with your own stepdaughter, neither of you have spent time with Tina. She’s supposed to be Tina’s best friend."

Doyoung felt his frontal lobe develop for the second time in his life. Stepdaughter… Fuck, he was only thirty with a twenty-five year old stepdaughter. Does anyone see how disturbing and odd this fucking is? No, he definitely cannot stay in this for much longer.

"And you know what? Jesus, you're acting like a fucking brat yourself." She scoffs. "The longer you spend with her, the more immature you become. Genuinely, what use was it for your parents to give if you're going to act like a child." She shrugs.

"Don't even bring my parents into this, fuck off." Doyoung disturbed glares at her. "Don't fucking do that. It only seems that way because you hate when anyone is better than you. Smarter and secure than you, get a grip, Meghan. Don’t forget that I’m closer to her age than yours. I’m allowed to be childish, remember that… Don't fucking bring them up ever again."

He was right but that's exactly what she hated most.

"Honestly Meghan," Dumbfounded, Doyoung sighs, hands rubbing upon his face exhausted. "You've known Y/n longer than me. If you don't plan on trusting me, at least trust her. What kind of mother are you if you can't offer her that?"

His tone quickly twisted into condescension, the sheer feeling of being talked down upon by someone who knows nothing about life irking her furthermore and the slight consideration that gnawed at the back of her head was ultimately consumed by that twisted rotten tar in her soul.

"Well she isn't my daughter is she?" Meghan spews without thinking. "She's not my fucking daughter. Not by blood, not metaphorically, nor by law. Tina is my daughter and you know what my daughter doesn't do? Throw herself at my shithead of a husband like any other hussy does!" Her hands meet with his shoulders multiple times, abrasive like every word. No regard that those words were loud and clear for you who remained on the grass and Tina in the entertainment room with the TV on full blast. No longer able to hide and ignore like she's done all along.

Doyoung doesn't mind the contact or the harsh words towards him. What he does mind is her rejection of motherhood. Yes, she's correct to an extent, however how harsh must one be to deny the impact their motherly doting has left on a young and impressionable child? He has fairly understood your restraint and guilt after each encounter is interlaced with your respect towards Meghan and now all he can think about is how that shattering reality will affect you.

Will affect him…

It's disgust and resentment that meets Meghan— she takes it with pride. It's empathy that meets you when he turns to face you. Seeing the instant heartache aflame in your eyes and through the cracks of your chest.

Pity is what you take it as. Disturbed by such, you stand up, the walk of shame towards that stupid greenhouse his wife detests so much. A soft shut is what makes him turn back to Meghan, disdain so palpable that Tina can feel it as she peers through the window. Relenting to the reality she's been trying to avoid these months. It's odd to be a background character in something that affects her directly. She knows there's more to come and when it's done, she'll have two options, only one right answer.

Her mother or her best friend… her sister.

Their words are muffled on the further end of the greenhouse. You imagine this is what Tina would hardly hear in her slumber and it was nice to an extent. You've always admired her discipline. You can't say you admire it now, many of those arguments could have been prevented if she spoke up about her discomfort towards her mother dating a man near her age, a man that sought the affection she was given. A grieving man.

Tina was disciplined but she was also a coward just the way Meghan wanted her to be. The way Meghan wanted all of you to be. Fearing yet adoring her. Devout like a disciple to their God.

Meghan was nowhere near a God. She was closer to a pathetic haggard with no accomplishments in life besides her daughter's, living vicariously through her. She attempted to do the same with Doyoung and it may have worked for a while. She soon realized that she couldn't do such a thing with someone that's always had more opportunities than she's had.

Doyoung had two loving parents his entire life. Just like you.

Regrettably, they weren't able to be near him as much as he would have liked them to be due to their career. Just like you.

However, they provided no matter what — even in the after life — and it showed throughout the house and the love he still holds for them. Their presence is felt in the grooves of doorknobs she replaces, the carvings on the wooden doors she plans on modernizing, the stained windows she'll break, the chips on the kitchen island she will fix, the garden with horrid flamboyant flowers that are eaten away by pests, and that ghastly greenhouse with plants that pretentiously have to mean something.

There's no grasp of control in a house that is meant to exude security, love, and reassurance. No grasp if she's not the one to plant that seed.

Fortunately for you, the house welcomed you in and now you don't care how much you rub it in her face. This was meant for you and if she thought of you as the complete opposite of what she's groomed you into, you'll let the entire world know that Doyoung and everything she wanted to obtain is yours by prophecy.

"How's your foot?" The soft voice that greets you nightly approaches you, his warm fingers taking your shoulder, spinning you around and forcing the pen in your hand to drop. The solemn look on your face and the exaggerated pout makes him sigh, your shrug forcing his touch away. "Better."

Doyoung nods as a response, approaching and taking you in a tight embrace to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that Meghan was nothing but bitter and defeated.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against your hair, leaving kisses here and there. Your sigh, tightening his embrace. "It's not you who said it." You expel, burying your head in his chest the way your doves do. He kisses your head again, reward for such a sweet action.

"But it's my fault she did." "It doesn't matter now."

Doyoung peels away as much as he can without breaking the embrace. His eyes search yours for a hint of sadness, however all he can see is fiery anger and vindictiveness.

His hand takes your cheek, both warm and soft. "It does..." He hums, "You know it does." Eyebrows furrowed, concerned with how easily you've given it up. He knew you'd be upset but relent is not what he expected. No, he does not like this.

You pout, grip on his torso tightening to leave the feeling of your touch lingering for as long as it could. "It'll pass."

Doyoung truly didn't know how to fix this on his own, it's not his duty to do so either. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset over the words of someone so vile who did not deserve any strong emotion conveyed. Prior times he was able to pacify you with his gifts or embraces, nowadays it's been a bit harder.

"Will it?" "It has to. I'll have time to mourn later."

Mourn.

Doyoung thinks about the last time he allowed himself to mourn. He wonders if you'll follow in his footsteps and ignore it, falling in the embrace of a rancid older person who will only take advantage over the loss of a profound relationship. He doesn't want you to do that, you should seek comfort in the arms of someone who can oddly comprehend you despite the hierarchy being completely different.

It should be him.

Decidedly, Doyoung leans in, like that first night in your room. His lips don't linger above your features or your lips like last time. This time he dives in, taking your lips into his in a slow and tender kiss. You reciprocate it instantly, holding onto him for dear life, afraid to be tossed around once more.

Your lips part slightly, seeking air although inviting him further in. Doyoung moans into the kiss when your hands creep under his shirt, they're peculiarly cold for such a hot summer. Alluding to the death that floods you from Meghan's rejection. He can tell you're replaying her words over and over every time your kisses get hungrier. Tongue overlapping his and savoring him further. Fingernails raking his smooth pale back. He'd be glad to parade those pink streaks, it's the least he could do.

He wasn't far off. It's interesting how easy one can hate someone they've loved for so long. All you had in mind was punishing Meghan for what she just said. She's killed you. She's killed that little girl that looked up at her like a mother. Mother's are supposed to be nurturing and kind. But like she's said, she doesn't owe it to you. You're not her daughter, never were.

Cruel, cold, and a bitch she was. You could be that too, you've become aware of it with every cold shoulder and scowl from her. You'll be what she truly sees you as if that'll make her happy.

Men are weak, you've known this too. She's taught it to you. So why not start proving it with her husband? Giving him that chance everyone knew he awaits.

Your hands warm up the longer they roam around his torso, ripping the buttons off his shirt. He doesn't seem to care, not when it's a piece Meghan made him. "Will you make me feel better, Doie? Will you help me forget? I think we both need to forget?" You whisper against his lips, his labored breathing mixing with yours, chasing your lips as a response.

He whines like a pet being denied a treat, teased and laughed at. To satiate him, you peck his lips, nipping them and earning another whine, pleased this time. He nods fervently, his own hands grasping your body, making sure you're here with him.

Swollen lips leave open mouthed kisses along his jaw, trailing to his throat. Nipping softly at the taut skin. He hisses and gasps here and there but he never pushes you away. He takes what you give, just like you.

Thankful for such, it's time you take a bite of that apple, rotten and all.

Doyoung groans when he feels your teeth cling to his Adam's apple, fingers pressing into your own skin. His body is now cold, similar to how your hands were at the beginning, it's infectious but delicious. He needs more of whatever you give him. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

It's easy to read his mind, the way those eyes look at you, ten times more intense than before. Enough to push you into creating a trail down his torso, similar to the stream of sweat that clung to him that first day you met. This felt nice against his cold skin. The warmth of your mouth and delicacy of lust intermingled into making his groin harden. You notice the need, fingers clumsily toying with the belt buckle until it's gone.

You tease here and there, fingers clinging to the hem of his underwear, scratching above his pubic hair and making him hunch over, only stopped by the feeling of your forehead on his exposed torso, purposefully giggling to have your breath tickle his greedy skin.

"It tickles." He utters, looking down at you with blown pupils. You smile, looking up at him with wide eyes, pressing your knuckles into his skin. "Better?" You question, he grins and nods.

You use his shirt as a cushion underneath your knees, it's futile and barely aids but it's better than bare concrete. Seeing there was no use to taunt him any longer, your fingers crawl within his underwear, grasping the phallic in much need of attention. He hisses feeling your grasp, it's soft but firm, tugging him out brusquely on purpose. He liked that.

Doyoung pants, attempting to control his breathing. It's been so long since he's been touched, any time Meghan attempted he was flooded with disgust and self hatred, pushing her off when she aimed to at least kiss him. He could live with it, believing his sex drive had died before you came into the picture. But with you around the house and him 24/7, it was becoming very difficult to do anything about his increased sex drive.

"You're so hard… When's the last time you had any action?" You ask casually, hand rhythmically rocking against his shaft, thumb collecting any drop of pre-come to smear against him. He's reluctant and embarrassed to answer but your sweet smile is so convincing that he responds with a guttural moan.

"I see." You hum, kissing his tip as a reward, eliciting another moan. Masturbating in the shower was not enough. Sometimes Meghan tried to get in there with him and it would make him flaccid immediately. It seemed the only times he could ever relieve himself was in the comfort of his study. His favorite times when you and Tina took advantage of the pool and sun bathed with his research papers in hand. That excited him most, the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit in front of his window and reading his thoughts on a subject you couldn't care for as much but would take just because it was made by him. You took anything he gave you.

The memory alone made him twitch in your hand, a giggle leaving your pretty lips. Like this, he would get so much harder like this. "I get it, Doie. I won't stall any longer." You relent, leaning further to take him in your mouth. The damp and warm cavity force a moan out of his own, holding onto your hair as he throws his head back. Fuck, he's been craving this for so long.

Doyoung feels his ears ring. His own breathing along the squelching of your throat floods them. He thinks this is heaven, although he doubts an act like this would allow any of you in. Right, it wouldn't. Not after you both submit to the temptation of forbidden fruit. But it's better this way, what fun is there in being a garden when you can't have what makes you feel good? Even if it is a sin.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth around him, head bobbing on its own despite your free hand giving him permission to push as much as he wants. Your tongue swirls around his cock, pressing firmly against the veins and dancing around the rest. It tickles, but he's sure you're aware. It is your favorite game after all.

He looks as pretty as the first day you met him. Beads of sweat rolling down his face, forcing his hair to frame and emphasize those pretty features of his. His ragged moans sound like those of an angel, pushing you further down his cock. It feels suffocating, he's not as girthy but he is long and it makes it much harder to push through. Even so, you want to be good for him, you've always wanted to be. This forces you to push through, gagging a few times but persevering until your nose hits his pubic bone.

Doyoung feels elated at this new found feeling. Your throat is so tight and warm, it feels like a reward for all he's endured. Sadly for him, it's torn apart, gifting him with an image of you teary eyed, gasping for air and a mixture of come and spit threading you both. He couldn't think he could get any more hard but this image alone makes him spurt pre-come onto your chin.

You give him a quick glance, smiling sweetly at him. "Close?" You ask, "You can come in my mouth, Doie." You utter, leaning in to take him in. He closes his eyes feeling your mouth around him again, dizzy and seeing stars. He feels the breeze enter from the windows of the greenhouse, whirling around you both. He finds that his body is no longer cold, it's scorching as yours.

Doyoung didn't think he could be so overstimulated before coming, it may be with the fact that he hasn't been touched for so long or how one of your hands clutches his into your hair, yanking to feel arousal from the sting. He swears can see a bead of your wetness roll down your leg when he looks down at you, cursing and bucking forward.

It hurts, you won't lie but that is exactly what made you keep taking him and pulling back out. The strain against your throat elating until he finally took it within himself to do as you wanted. His jutting forward with a harsh grasp on your hair, fucking your face and forcing you to gag while one of your hands plays with his testicles, only pushing him to go faster. Your other hand pushing aside your soiled panties and playing with your clit. It's a slick sticky mess, uncomfortable at best but the feeling alone does enough for you.

Doyoung mutters curses here and there. Pretty words too which you receive with moans that make him increase the pace. Both of his hands are on your hair when he finally feels himself spill in your mouth. His moan is so loud you wouldn't doubt that anyone outside of the greenhouse could hear him. You squeal, taken by surprise and also feeling yourself suffocate. Even when he's still inside of you, some of his come spills from the sides of your mouth, rushing out like water from a broken dam when he rips himself apart from you.

He feels out of it, trying to calm himself after such an intense orgasm as you are. Head thrown back, gasping for air without spilling any come still in your mouth. When you think you're stable enough, he helps you up. Kissing your soiled cheeks and licking his lips to savor himself. The image makes your pupils dilate. Taking himself in like it was melted ice cream, without a care. No one is as receptive to taste themselves but he was.

You hadn't come yet, and this image only made you want to reach that high more and more. Doyoung cluelessly smiles at you, appreciative of what you've done. It's wiped away when you take his face into your hands, kissing him. Instinctively, his lips part, allowing you to push his own cum into his mouth from yours. He's taken aback but weirdly aroused.

Narcissistic, egocentric, or whatever anyone wants to call it. It does not change the fact that Doyoung immediately hardens at the taste of himself mixed with the taste of your spit. The sweet tones of the lingering chocolate you two ate with the saltiness of his orgasm. Similar to a disgusting and corrupted salted caramel dark chocolate. It's not for everyone but it is meant for you two.

Hastily, he helps you up on the data table. Pulling down your wet panties and rubbing them along his hard and aching cock. He moans into the kiss, ragged and needy while he jerks himself off to increase the feeling. His tongue mingling with yours, swirling his come around both your mouths until it becomes warmer and lesser.

Fingers intertwined in your hair, tugging to hear more of you. Desire to hear more and more leads to shaking nimble fingers to trail the inside of your thighs. He smiles into the kiss feeling the scorching warmth within. Claiming and begging to be touched. He's no cruel man, not all the time at least, so he grants you this reward after all the ones you've given him.

Slowly, his ring and middle finger enter you easily with the slickness he's caused. The intrusion causes you to moan against his mouth this time, giving him the advantage to nip your tongue. It doesn't take Doyoung long to allow his fingers to move within you, pumping relentlessly to hear your pretty sounds. Guttural with the remaining come you two interchange.

You've always thought he had pretty fingers, since you met. Purposefully scraping yourself and staining your feet with grass to have him touch you. Nimble, long, and delicate enough to curl within your walls and cause a shiver down your spine. With the length, it doesn't take him long to reach your sweet spot. His pistoning motion and curl forcing cries and withering beneath him. Doyoung isn't as cruel or sadistic but this… he can understand why sadism exists.

Your legs don't seize to shake, a sheer layer of perspiration coating your body and face. He needs to let you finish, he just has to. It's not long until your body gives out, you need this or you'll probably pass out on this table alone.

But Doyoung allows himself to indulge that sadism he's contemplated for the past few minutes – enjoying his contradiction on cruelty. Halting his moves and ripping his hand away, taking the last drop of remaining come into his mouth to greet you with a cheshire grin as you look at him in surprise and betrayal. Every nerve in your body stings you left and right, punishing and taunting you for the lost glory.

"What the actual fuck?!" You gasp, looking at him, panting harshly with a body ready to explore from heat and desire.

He doesn't respond, letting the come and his spit trickle down to his glowing red cock, slacks and underwear pooled around his ankles. Now that his mouth is free, he chuckles. "Had to save some for lube." He shrugs, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your cheek reassuringly, rubbing the come around him until he pushes within you. It feels different than his fingers and your mouth for the both of you. Surely, nothing will ever be as good as the actual thing.

Doyoung doesn't move just yet. Allowing you to get comfortable while he contemplates on whether you should leave the red gingham dress on. It's too pretty and he was there when you made it. Meghan had hated when you told her he allowed you to use his mother's machine and fabric. She hated that you were taking over her on her own craft.

Hm… yes, just for that he'll let you keep it on.

"Come on, Doie… Fuck me as hard as you can." You lean in, whispering against his ear, biting his earlobe. That was enough incentive for Doyoung to begin thrusting. It's slow but hard at first, setting the pace. It doesn't take long for him to quicken it, increasing your moans with it. You hold onto him tightly as he pounds into you. So deep into the pleasure of being full again that neither of you speak.

Legs pushed wide open against the table, his glute muscles flexing with every hard stroke. He kisses you here and there, licking away the beads of sweat from your neck like a starved animal in need of more.

The taste of your skin drives him insane, nipping and licking until he reaches your breasts. Pushing down the fabric of the dress to take one into his mouth. Engulfing it, harsh suction that leaves you wanting more. His teeth aren't as kind to your nipples but you don't mind as long as he is well fed. As long as you're able to please him.

"You feel so good, Y/n… I won't ever be able to get enough of you." He pants, thrusts hardening, hips swiveling to get closer to you, enough that his pubic bone creates friction against your needy clit. That intensifies the feeling that pushes you further into an orgasm. Doyoung feels it when you squeeze around him and moan his name like a mantra, pulling at his hair like he's done to yours.

"Please… I've been good. Please, let me come, Doie." You beg, implore. You couldn't handle it any longer. He's come once before, when this is finished, he'll have two orgasms. Yet all you have is aching, an overdue orgasm that will knock you out soon if you don't release it.

Pretending to ponder your prayer as he harshly pounds into you, lips consuming yours. Tongue gracing yours in search for a sliver of his come's taste still lingering within you. It's not as evident as before but he eventually finds it, smiling into the kiss and nodding.

"Let it go, baby." He croons, shushes leaving his lips as he keeps fucking you. His permission setting your body free that each thrust makes you feel so sensitive and it's not until he reverts back to those initial harsh and deep thrusts that you squeal and moan loudly. Clinging to his body for dear life while your legs spasm and come around him. The image sends him into his own orgasm. Feeling your body tremble against his while you cry out in pleasure from something he's caused. It's beautiful and if possible, he'd have you as the main piece with those pretty red ribbons you love so much on your hair, surrounded by his taxidermy as the main attraction because you're precious enough to preserve.

The thought peeves him but he won't dwell, not when you still feel so warm and good around his spent cock.

"Has she ever made you come this much?" You ask between giggles, looking at the pool of cum seeping into the wooden table and dripping onto the concrete floor. Doyoung groans remembering his reality. "No. I don't even touch her, why do you think there's so much?" He glowers, shaking his head in the process. "I don't want to think about her. Not now… with you so pretty and open for me." He grins, leaning in for a kiss.

You hum against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. "All this come for me?" You question sweetly, faking naivety, he nods, a light chuckle. "Only you have made me feel so alive and hot." He utters, burying his face in your chest, kissing your tits slowly.

A content sigh leaves you, eyelids fluttering, a malicious grin when you look forward.

There she is, five feet away with a dull and dead look on her face, Meghan.

"I bet." 

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[hencheri]

yesss hehe like just like hard thoughts i guess?? it can be whatever u want like no pressure to like give a long reply or anything ofc!!! /gen

hehe i’m shyyyy /lh but i was wondering what sort of taboo kinks u think nct jisung would be into? if this is too vague i can be more specific but i guess im just wondering how you see him im sorry this is literally soooo vague sjjdkd but just if u had any kinda thoughts about him in like a dark content context

it's not too vague!! but if you already had thoughts, i'd like to know 👀

18+ mdni.

warnings: mention of stepcest, noncon & kidnapping.

well, first of all, jisung exudes loser behaviour. like, pervert virgin loser. i fully believe he thinks about sex 90% of the time, his imagination is just never taking a break... he never listens to anyone talking because he's always distracted. anything reminds him of sex. literally anything.

he'd be into so many things, honestly. he has evil thoughts without even realizing it, his mind drifts off to places... and he goes along with it.

stepcest is prob his top porn search history. it doesn't even matter if he has a stepsister or not—he just likes the thought of doing something forbidden, something real dirty. like, jisung is a gooner. it's unusual for him to not beat his cock at least twice a day.

if he sees a pretty girl, his mind drifts off immediately. what if he drags her into a dark alleyway and fucks her there? what if... she doesn't want to? what if he continues anyway? he'd get ashamed, i think, never admitting to having these kind of thoughts, but he'd be so encouraged by the members. especially jeno and haechan. jisung has morals, of course, but considering he already has mean thoughts... and his friends tell him to just take what he wants... well, he'll be convinced eventually.

sort of a bonus to my nohyuck fic; jeno and haechan would pollute jisung's mind, telling him everything they do to you. jisung is entertained, for once he listens carefully. he's tempted to do the same as well. he's tempted to have a taste of you. and he will, acting soft at the beginning, giving you hope that maybe poor gullible jisung is the key to your escape. but as he keeps touching you, reaching for your underwear, trying to kiss you, you understand that he's not.

[withlovemark]

“something special”

warning: smut! somnophilia but it’s just a handjob

it’s your bf, doyoungs! bday today and you wanted to do something special for him but because of his busy schedule, his solo and the 127 concert, time has been limited. last night, when he came home, you were already asleep but right now, as the sunrise greets your window, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, sleep still holding him, you can’t ask for a more perfect morning.

then you feel it — poking your back.

“mmmh,” he moans. “doyoung-,” you whisper. no answer. you slowly turn in his embrace, facing him, he is still fast asleep, “what are you dreaming about, pretty boy?,” you whisper in his ear afraid to wake him up from his slumber. his hips thrust into yours, body responding to your voice and you can’t help but giggle at the effect you had on him. a lightbulb flickers on as you remember him telling you he wanted to wake up with his dick in your hand or mouth or pussy someday. i guess you could add one of them to the something specials you had planned.

your hand slowly makes its way down his chest, leaving goosebumps along his skin, as it gets lower and lower and into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. he moans at your touch, eyes fluttering, still closed. you slowly start moving up and down, spreading his leaking precum all over his cock, his soft whines making your pussy throb. you quicken your pace wanting to hear more of his sinful sounds as you start rocking your hips against his body.

at your actions, doyoung’s eyes flutter open “good morning baby,” you greet him with a smile, not stopping. it takes him awhile to realize what’s happening, the warmth of your hands around his hard cock slowly waking him up “ahhh,” he sighs in content “had a dream about you, baby,” he confesses in between groans “yeah?, what did you dream about?,” “t-this - y-you touching me j-just like this,” he whimpers, his breathing getting quicker and quicker and you knew he was getting close, “what else baby?,” you urge him on, “y-you were kissing me,” “hmmm, like this?,” you ask before kissing him in that sensitive spot on his neck, just under his ear, his moans getting higher and higher as you continue to suck harder and harder, marking him. his makeup artist was just going to have to deal with it later on.

with your hand twisting up and down his pretty cock, your lips against his neck, doyoung was an absolute goner — he cums with no warning, straight into your hand and shared bedsheets, “ahhh, fuuuck,” he breathes out as you milked him for everything he had, giggling at his fucked out state.

gaining his full consciousness, he pulls you in towards him, face hiding in your neck as he fully realizes what just happened, ears turning red from embarrassment, “god baby, i think i want you to wake me up that way every time now,” he quietly confesses and you feel his smile on your shoulder, slowly you pull out of his embrace, facing him, “happy birthday, doyoung,” you wished him. he gives you his gummy smile, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

an: happy bday doyoung <3! (p.s. pls don’t do this unless you have your partner’s consent!)