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urdreamydoodles · 1 month ago

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Could we get first kisses with X-Men pretty please?

X-MEN X FEM!READER

Your first kiss

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Colossus, Magik, Kitty Pryde & Morph

Requests are still not open but will be soon! (Please understand that I can't do all the requests, I take the one that inspires me)

LOGAN HOWLETT (WOLVERINE)

- The night is quiet, but there’s a storm beneath Logan’s skin. It’s always been that way—rage coiled tight in his ribs, old wounds that never quite close, ghosts that never quite leave. But here, with you, there is something else, something that softens the sharp edges of him. He watches you from the porch of the cabin, a cigar burning low between his fingers, his gaze steady, unreadable. You don’t push him to speak—Logan’s never been a man who talks about feelings, but he feels them all the same, deeper than most, heavier than most. And tonight, those feelings are pulling him under.

- "You don’t scare easy, do ya?" he mutters, and there’s something like admiration in his voice, something rough and unpolished. He’s used to people keeping their distance, used to the way they flinch from the weight of what he is, but not you. No, you stay. You meet his gaze with quiet certainty, as if you see something beyond the blood, beyond the beast. It unsettles him. It grounds him. He isn’t sure which one is worse.

- He moves before he can think better of it, closing the space between you in a heartbeat. His hand cups the back of your neck, calloused and warm, and then his mouth is on yours. Logan doesn’t kiss like a man who’s uncertain—he kisses like a man who has spent lifetimes waiting, like a man who doesn’t know softness but is willing to learn. It’s possessive, a growl at the back of his throat, the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the sheer force of him overwhelming in the best way.

- When he finally pulls away, his forehead presses against yours, his breath uneven. "You sure about this, darlin'?" The question is low, gruff, but there’s something hesitant beneath it, something almost fragile. And when your fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling him back in, Logan exhales like he’s found something worth holding onto.

REMY LEBEAU (GAMBIT)

- The game has been going on all night—the dance of glances, the teasing words wrapped in silk, the unspoken challenge between you and the infamous Gambit. Remy thrives on this, on the art of pursuit, on the thrill of a gamble. But this? This is different. You’re not just another conquest, another momentary pleasure to chase and leave behind. No, you are something far more dangerous. You are a risk that he is terrified to take—but he’s never been one to back down from a high-stakes game.

- "You know, chère," he drawls, voice smooth as whiskey, "I t’ink you enjoy makin’ me wait." His fingers brush over yours where they rest on the poker table, a barely-there touch that sends heat skittering up your spine. He’s been flirting with you for months, every word a promise, every touch a question. But you’ve held him at arm’s length, making him work for it, making him want it. And oh, does he want it.

- The moment happens fast—one second, he’s watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk, and the next, he’s got you pressed against the wall of the dimly lit bar, his body caging yours in. His hands are warm, his eyes burning with something deeper than mischief. "No more games, mon amour," he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours. It’s devastating, slow but demanding, a thief taking exactly what he wants. He tastes like danger and something achingly sweet, like the promise of trouble you never want to escape.

- When he pulls back, he grins, his forehead resting against yours. "Worth de wait, non?" And the way your fingers tighten in his coat tells him everything he needs to know.

KURT WAGNER (NIGHTCRAWLER)

- The air is thick with laughter, with warmth, with the quiet kind of joy that comes from simply existing beside someone who makes the world a little lighter. Kurt has always been light, despite the weight of the world, despite the way people see him as something other, something monstrous. But you have never looked at him that way. Never once. And tonight, beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns strung across the Xavier mansion’s garden, he realizes just how much that means.

- "Do you ever wonder if things happen for a reason?" he muses, his tail flicking idly as he leans beside you against the railing. His accent makes the words sound almost wistful, almost like something out of a fairytale. And you, ever his willing audience, tilt your head in curiosity. "Like destiny?"

- He hesitates only a moment before reaching for you, his three-fingered hand curling around yours. His skin is warm, his touch hesitant, reverent. "I do not believe I deserve such a gift," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "But if I did… I t’ink it would be you." The words linger between you, delicate, uncertain. And then, as if drawn by something beyond himself, he leans in. The kiss is soft, almost shy, the kind of kiss that speaks of quiet longing, of devotion that has been waiting for its moment.

- When he pulls away, his golden eyes search yours, as if waiting for permission to believe this is real. And when you smile—when you pull him back in, your hands tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck—Kurt exhales, a prayer answered.

SCOTT SUMMERS (CYCLOPS)

- Scott has always been a man of control, of discipline, of walls built high enough to keep even himself out. He has to be—leadership demands it, survival depends on it. But when it comes to you, control is a battle he is losing. The way you look at him, the way you challenge him, the way you make him feel like something more than just a soldier—it unravels him in ways he is still struggling to understand.

- "I shouldn’t," he says, voice tight, almost pained. You are standing too close, your fingers brushing against his wrist, grounding him in a way that makes his head spin. His ruby-quartz lenses shield his eyes, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze, the way it lingers. "It’s not safe." He means the words—Scott has spent too long holding himself back, afraid of losing control, afraid of what he might destroy. But it’s too late for that. He’s already falling.

- The moment is inevitable. He moves with the careful precision of a man who is both afraid and desperate, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is searing, controlled, but barely. His hands frame your face, steady despite the war waging beneath his skin. It’s overwhelming—the heat of it, the weight of years spent denying himself anything that felt this real.

- When he pulls away, he exhales sharply, as if catching his breath after a battle hard-fought. His fingers linger at your jaw, his touch hesitant. "Tell me to stop," he says, but there’s no conviction in it. And when you shake your head, when you pull him back in, Scott lets himself fall, for once surrendering to something other than duty.

JEAN GREY (PHOENIX)

- There are moments when Jean feels like she is too much. Too much power, too much feeling, too much of something vast and unknowable. She has spent years keeping herself restrained, learning control as though her heart beats to a metronome rather than a wild drum. But when she is with you, she wonders if it is safe to be unguarded, if it is safe to be simply Jean and nothing more.

- Tonight, she lets herself be soft. The two of you sit beneath the vastness of the stars, the Xavier mansion looming behind you, distant and forgotten for now. The night is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees, but inside Jean’s mind, there is no quiet—not when you are near. She doesn’t need to read your thoughts to know what lingers there. She can feel it, in the way your fingers brush against hers, in the warmth of your presence.

- "I don’t want to be careful with you," she murmurs, and there is something raw in her voice, something aching. And then she kisses you—not hesitant, not restrained, but with the kind of intensity that burns. Her fingers thread through your hair, her breath stolen between heartbeats, between the desperate need to be close, to feel something beyond the weight of what she is. It is both gentle and consuming, a force of nature wrapped in something heartbreakingly human.

- When she pulls away, her hands linger against your jaw, and she smiles—something small, something meant only for you. "Tell me I don’t have to hold back," she whispers. And when you answer her with another kiss, she knows she has found something worth surrendering to.

ORORO MUNROE (STORM)

- The sky has always been an extension of Ororo, a reflection of the emotions she keeps locked beneath careful serenity. But tonight, there is no storm. No restless wind, no rolling thunder—only the gentle hum of the night and the warmth of your presence beside her. She watches you in the dim glow of candlelight, her eyes filled with something unreadable, something vast.

- "Do you ever wonder how small we are?" she muses, her voice as soft as the breeze that dances through your hair. The two of you stand on the rooftop of the Xavier mansion, the city lights glimmering in the distance, but all she can see is you. Ororo has spent a lifetime above the world, both in spirit and in form, but with you, she feels grounded in a way she has never known before.

- She reaches for you, her fingers tracing a path along your cheek, as though memorizing something she never wishes to forget. And then she leans in, her lips brushing against yours like a whispered secret, like the first breath before a storm. The kiss is deliberate, reverent, like the way the rain kisses the earth after a long drought. There is patience in it, tenderness, but beneath that—something deeper. A quiet promise, an unspoken devotion.

- When she pulls back, the night is still, holding its breath as though the world itself has taken notice of this moment. Ororo’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile. "I think," she murmurs, "that you are the only thing that has ever made me want to stay on the ground."

ROGUE

- She has spent her whole life fearing touch. It is a cruel thing, to want something so deeply and yet never be able to have it. But with you, the longing is unbearable, suffocating, twisting in her chest like something wild and restless. She has kissed before—quick, fleeting moments stolen behind barriers, through gloves, through layers of caution. But never like this. Never real.

- "Ah don’t wanna hurt you," she says, and there is a tremble in her voice, something vulnerable hidden beneath her usual confidence. You are standing too close, and she should move away, should create distance like she always does—but she can’t. Not this time. Not with you.

- The decision is made before she can talk herself out of it. Her gloved hand curls around the back of your neck, and then she kisses you. There is something desperate in it, something that tastes of loneliness and longing, of a girl who has spent her whole life reaching for something just out of her grasp. It is bruising, filled with everything she has never been able to say, everything she has been too afraid to feel.

- When she pulls back, her breathing is ragged, her forehead resting against yours. "Tell me you ain't scared," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. And when you don’t pull away—when your fingers tighten in her jacket, grounding her—Rogue exhales like she has finally found a place where she belongs.

ERIK LEHNSHERR (MAGNETO)

- Love has always been a dangerous thing for Erik. It is weakness, vulnerability—something that has been used against him too many times before. But you are different. You have always been different. You do not flinch from the sharp edges of him, from the darkness that lingers in his eyes. And that terrifies him more than anything.

- "I have lost too much already," he confesses, his voice low, rough. The two of you stand beneath the ruins of something long abandoned, a place Erik has brought you to without thinking, without realizing how much it means. He does not let people in, does not allow himself to want—but with you, want has become an inevitability.

- And then he kisses you. It is not gentle. It is not sweet. It is a claim, fierce and unyielding, filled with the kind of hunger that comes from a man who has spent his life fighting for something just out of reach. His hands grip your waist, his touch firm, possessive, as though trying to convince himself that you are real, that this moment is not something that will be ripped away like all the others.

- When he finally pulls away, his breathing is uneven, his gaze sharp as steel. "You should leave," he says, but his hands do not let go. And when you press your forehead against his, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, Erik exhales—because for once in his life, he does not want to be alone.

CHARLES XAVIER (PROFESSOR X)

- Charles has always known the power of words. He wields them like a scalpel—precise, careful, capable of shaping the world with nothing more than the way they are spoken. But for all his eloquence, for all his careful consideration, he finds himself at a loss when it comes to you. There are no words vast enough to encapsulate the way he feels when he looks at you, no sentence that could hold the quiet reverence that settles in his chest whenever you are near.

- Tonight, the mansion is quiet, the hum of distant thoughts nothing more than a murmur in the back of his mind. You are seated beside him in the library, the warm glow of lamplight casting shadows across your face, and Charles cannot help but admire you as one might admire a great work of art. "You are always in my thoughts," he confesses, his voice as soft as the turning of a page. "Even when I try to quiet them."

- The admission hangs between you like something fragile, something waiting to be touched. And then, with a slowness that is almost agonizing, Charles reaches for you. His fingers brush against your cheek, a gentle caress, before he leans in. The kiss is hesitant at first, delicate, as though he is memorizing the feel of you in increments, but then it deepens—controlled, measured, but filled with something infinite. He is not a man prone to indulgence, but in this moment, he allows himself to want.

- When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You are the only thought I never wish to quiet," he murmurs, and in that moment, you realize Charles Xavier, for all his wisdom, has finally found something beyond the realm of his own understanding.

WANDA MAXIMOFF (SCARLET WITCH)

- Wanda has spent her life surrounded by chaos. It follows her like a shadow, whispering in the language of things broken and rewritten, of destinies unraveled and reshaped. But when she is with you, there is quiet. Not silence—never silence—but a kind of stillness she has never known before, as though the world itself pauses when you are near.

- The two of you stand in the remnants of twilight, the air thick with the scent of rain, the horizon streaked in shades of crimson and gold. Wanda’s fingers are entwined with yours, her grip hesitant, uncertain. "I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I think—when I’m with you—it feels like something I don’t have to be afraid of."

- And then she kisses you. It is not tentative, nor is it rushed. It is deliberate, the kind of kiss that unravels something deep within, the kind that reshapes and remakes. Her hands cradle your face, her touch featherlight yet unyielding, as if afraid you might slip through her fingers like all the things she has lost. There is magic in it, something ancient and aching, something that feels like the bending of time itself.

- When she pulls back, her lips are parted, her breath unsteady. A flicker of red dances in her eyes, the remnants of something too vast to name. "Don’t let me become a ghost," she whispers. And when you pull her close again, when you press your lips to hers once more, you promise that she never will.

PIETRO MAXIMOFF (QUICKSILVER)

- Love has always been something fleeting for Pietro. He moves too fast, lives too fast, feels too much—always chasing, always running, as if afraid that if he stays still for too long, the world might catch up and swallow him whole. But with you, time slows. It bends in a way he never thought possible, as though the universe itself concedes to your presence, as though you are the one thing in this world worth pausing for.

- "I don’t do slow," he says, his voice laced with something teasing, something deflective—but there is honesty beneath it, a quiet confession hidden between syllables. The two of you sit on the rooftop of the mansion, the night air cool against your skin, the distant sounds of the city humming like a heartbeat. Pietro is never still, even now—his fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against his knee, his body humming with energy he cannot quite contain.

- And then, in a moment of stillness so rare it feels almost sacred, he leans in. The kiss is electric, filled with the kind of urgency that comes from a man who has spent his life moving at the speed of light. His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, as if trying to memorize the shape of you, the feel of you, before the world inevitably pulls him away. It is messy, breathless, real—a collision rather than a meeting, an unstoppable force finally finding something worth stopping for.

- When he finally pulls back, his lips are curled into a smirk, but there is something soft in his expression, something unspoken. "You make me want to stay," he murmurs, and for the first time in his life, Pietro Maximoff does not feel the need to run.

HANK MCCOY (BEAST)

- Love has always been an intellectual thing for Hank. He understands it in theory, can dissect it like a scientist studying a phenomenon, can quote poetry and philosophy on its nature. But experiencing it? That is something else entirely. With you, it is not logical. It is not something he can quantify or analyze. It simply is.

- The two of you sit in his study, the air thick with the scent of old books and ink, the soft glow of candlelight casting golden hues across the room. Hank watches you from behind his glasses, his fingers curled around the spine of a worn-out novel, though he has long since abandoned the words on the page. "There is a passage in Shakespeare," he muses, his voice thoughtful, almost absent. "That speaks of love as an ever-fixed mark. Something that does not falter, even in the face of the storm."

- And then, as if compelled by something greater than reason, he reaches for you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that speaks in volumes unspoken. His hand cradles the back of your head, his touch reverent, almost disbelieving. It is a scholar studying the divine, a man who has spent his life in books finally understanding the very thing poets have written about for centuries.

- When he pulls away, his breath is uneven, his glasses slightly askew. He chuckles—warm, a little self-conscious—before resting his forehead against yours. "For once," he murmurs, a smile playing at the edges of his lips, "I find myself at a loss for words." And for Hank McCoy, that is perhaps the truest testament of love.

EMMA FROST (WHITE QUEEN)

- Emma Frost does not give her heart easily. She wears her love like she wears her diamonds—pristine, untouchable, something to be admired from a distance but never possessed. She has spent a lifetime fortifying herself against weakness, constructing walls of ice so thick that even the warmth of devotion could never hope to melt them. And yet, when she looks at you, she feels them crack, just a little, just enough to let the light in.

- The Hellfire Club is a gilded cage of smoke and opulence, but tonight, it is just you and her, the world reduced to the quiet hum of distant music and the press of your bodies too close to be innocent. “You make me reckless,” she murmurs, her voice honeyed, edged with something sharp, something dangerous. There is a challenge in her gaze, as if daring you to step closer, to be foolish enough to reach for something that others have burned trying to touch.

- And then, with the kind of certainty only Emma possesses, she leans in. The kiss is not soft; Emma Frost does nothing softly. It is precise, calculated, as if she is determining just how much of herself she is willing to give. But then—then—you respond, and she forgets all about restraint. Her hands fist in your clothing, pulling you against her, her lips parting against yours in something that feels like surrender, like the slow unraveling of the woman who has never allowed herself to want.

- When she pulls back, her breath is even, her expression unreadable. But there is something different in her eyes—something raw, something that should not exist in a woman who has spent her life perfecting the art of emotional detachment. "Tell anyone I did that first," she drawls, smoothing a hand over her pristine white attire, "and I’ll turn your mind inside out." But the way she looks at you after—the way her fingers linger against yours—is softer than any words she will allow herself to say.

LAURA KINNEY (X-23)

- Love has never been gentle for Laura. It has been ripped from her hands, shattered and rebuilt into something unrecognizable, turned into a weapon like everything else in her life. She does not trust easily, does not give affection freely, but you—you are something different. Something that doesn’t demand, doesn’t take, but simply waits. And that terrifies her.

- It happens in the aftermath of a fight, blood still drying on her knuckles, the air thick with the scent of adrenaline and gunpowder. You are close, too close, inspecting a wound on her arm that she doesn’t care about, but you do. "You’re bleeding," you murmur, and Laura doesn’t understand why those words make something in her chest hurt more than any wound ever could.

- And then, without warning, she kisses you. It is rough, almost desperate, her hands gripping the sides of your face as if trying to confirm that you are real, that this feeling—the way you look at her like she is more than the violence carved into her skin—is real. She does not know how to be soft, does not know how to ease into things gently, so she kisses you the way she fights: with everything she has, with an intensity that could break ribs.

- When she pulls away, she does not speak. Her breath is unsteady, her expression unreadable. But then she presses her forehead to yours, her fingers still curled around your collar, holding on as if she expects you to disappear. "If you leave," she finally murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, "I’ll find you." It is not a threat. It is a promise.

WADE WILSON (DEADPOOL)

- Wade Wilson falls too fast and too hard. He loves like he fights—messy, reckless, throwing himself in headfirst without caring if he’ll get hurt. He makes jokes because the silence is unbearable, because the thought of you looking at him too closely is enough to send him spiraling. But for all his bravado, for all his crass humor, Wade has never been kissed in a way that wasn’t a joke, a mistake, or a transaction. Until you.

- "Okay, so I’m about to do something really stupid," he announces, standing far too close in the neon glow of a shitty diner sign, the night air thick with the scent of grease and rain. "Like, really stupid. Stupid on a level that would make even Deadpool go, ‘Dude, bad idea.’ And that guy makes terrible life choices."

- And then, before you can say anything, he grabs you by the collar of your jacket and kisses you. It is not smooth, not elegant. It is Wade Wilson, which means it is all-in, no hesitation, no half-measures. His hands are shaking, but his lips are sure, as if he has been waiting for this for a lifetime, as if he is afraid that if he doesn’t kiss you now, he’ll never get the chance.

- When he pulls away, he is breathless, eyes searching yours as if waiting for the inevitable punchline, for the moment where you’ll laugh and tell him it was all a joke. But when you don’t—when you just look at him, like he is something worth holding onto—he lets out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "Holy shit," he mutters. "That was actually kinda romantic. Mark it down in history, babe. First time for everything."

CABLE (NATHAN SUMMERS)

- Nathan Summers is not a man accustomed to softness. His hands have known war for too long, his body a graveyard of scars from battles fought across time itself. He does not waste energy on things that are fleeting, does not allow himself to indulge in things he cannot keep. And yet, with you, all of that certainty wavers.

- It happens after a mission, the two of you holed up in some abandoned safe house, the air thick with the remnants of exhaustion and unspoken words. He is injured—nothing fatal, but enough to make you worry, enough to make you press a damp cloth to his temple with a tenderness he does not deserve. "You need to let people take care of you sometimes," you murmur, and Nathan exhales, something heavy settling in his chest.

- He does not speak. Does not offer some poetic declaration. Instead, he reaches for you, fingers rough against the smoothness of your jaw, and pulls you in. The kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he is trying to memorize the shape of you, the taste of you, before the world inevitably takes him away again. There is no desperation in it, only certainty—the kiss of a man who has seen the end of everything and still chooses to hold onto this, onto you.

- When he pulls back, he does not move far, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing steady despite the storm raging inside him. "I don’t know what happens next," he admits, voice low, rough. "But I know I’m not letting go." And when you kiss him again, you make sure he understands—he won’t have to.

COLOSSUS (PIOTR RASPUTIN)

- Piotr is careful, always careful. He holds back without realizing it, even when the world is falling apart. There is a gentleness in him, buried beneath the steel of his body, a softness that has nothing to do with flesh. He fears his own strength, fears the way his hands, built for war, could break something as delicate as love. And yet, when he looks at you, he wants—needs—to touch, to hold, to feel.

- The battlefield is quiet now, the fight won, though the ruins around you still smoke from the echoes of destruction. You are weary, dust clinging to your skin, but Piotr—Piotr is unyielding, a silver sentinel standing guard over you. He reaches out, fingers brushing your shoulder, and you feel the weight of it, the solidity, the way he is always there, always enduring. “Are you hurt?” His voice is deep, thick with the accent that makes his words sound like poetry.

- You shake your head, but his expression is still storm-dark with concern. And then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he kisses you. His lips are unrelenting, unyielding metal against the warmth of your mouth, yet it is the gentlest thing he has ever done. He does not pull you close—he is afraid of hurting you—but his hands hover, trembling, aching to hold, to claim, to love without fear of breaking.

- When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time, you feel the heat of him, even in his steel form. “I will be careful,” he promises, voice thick, barely more than a whisper. “But I will never hold back from you again.”

MAGIK (ILLYANA RASPUTINA)

- Illyana does not love easily. She has been carved from darkness, tempered in the heat of Limbo, sharpened into something lethal. Love is a weakness—or so she has always believed. But then there is you, and the way you see her, past the demons, past the blades, past the girl who spent too many years clawing her way through the dark. You make her feel human, and that terrifies her.

- You are standing at the edge of a summoning circle, watching as she mutters an incantation, her voice a low, rolling thing that feels like ancient power wrapped in velvet. “You are distracting me,” she accuses, though there is no real bite in her words. You smirk, unrepentant. “You like it,” you tease. Illyana narrows her eyes. “Do not push your luck.”

- And then, before you can react, she steps forward, seizes your collar, and kisses you. It is sharp, heated, a wildfire consuming the space between you. Illyana kisses like she fights—with precision, with confidence, with the knowledge that she is taking exactly what she wants. There is no hesitation, no fear, only the surety of someone who has walked through hell and come out the other side.

- When she finally pulls away, she lingers, her forehead pressing against yours, her breath warm against your lips. “You make me feel alive,” she murmurs, almost reluctant, almost as if admitting it gives you too much power over her. And then, with a smirk of her own, she adds, “Try not to let it go to your head.”

KITTY PRYDE (SHADOWCAT)

- Kitty has always been in motion, always slipping through things—walls, expectations, relationships that never seemed to stick. She is the girl who walks between worlds, never quite settling, never quite stopping. But with you, something is different. With you, she doesn’t want to run. She wants to stay.

- It happens in the quiet of the X-Mansion, long after the others have gone to bed. You are both sprawled on the couch, the glow of the TV flickering against the walls, some old movie playing that neither of you are paying attention to. Kitty is curled up beside you, her head resting against your shoulder, and you feel her exhale, long and slow, as if breathing you in.

- Then, without warning, she phases through you—just enough to shift, just enough to turn, just enough to press her lips to yours in one smooth, effortless motion. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, but there is something fierce beneath it, something hungry, something that says finally. She doesn’t move away. Doesn’t disappear. She stays, fingers tangled in your collar, grounding herself in you as if anchoring herself to something real.

- When she pulls back, she grins, breathless, eyes bright. “Guess I finally figured out how to stop running,” she murmurs. And this time, when she kisses you again, it is certain.

MORPH (KEVIN SYDNEY)

- With Morph, love is never boring. He is laughter in the middle of a crisis, mischief hidden behind a smile, a shapeshifter who wears a thousand faces but only one when he looks at you. He is always changing, always adapting, but his feelings for you? Those are the one thing he has never wanted to change.

- You are in the middle of an argument—not a real one, not the kind with anger or pain, but the kind that is all teasing and playful jabs. “I totally won that fight,” he declares, arms crossed over his chest. You arch a brow. “You got thrown into a dumpster.” Morph smirks. “And I made it look good.”

- Then, without warning, he shifts—his features morphing, softening, contorting into your own face. “See?” he teases, voice now identical to yours. “How could you be mad at this?” And then, still wearing your face, he leans in and kisses you. The sensation is strange, uncanny, like kissing your own reflection, and yet—it’s him. You can feel it in the way his lips curve into a smirk, in the way his fingers curl around your wrist.

- When he pulls back, he shifts back into himself, grinning wide. “Was that weird? That was probably weird. But romantic weird, right?” You shake your head, laughing, and he grins. “Good. Because I’m totally doing it again.”

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simpxxstan · 11 months ago

Text

Nobody Else (final: part 2)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), arranged marriage, a lot of angst, and some fluff.

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 22.8k

warnings: angst warnings: overthinking, anxiety, a lot of it. spiralling, constant worries, mention of insomnia. mention of illnesses and a lung tumour, hospitals, medical treatments, relapse. discussions about death. please do not read if you find these triggering! a lot of arguing and usage of profanities. mention of smoking, drinking, food.

smut warnings: oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart, princess, baby for female), degradation, usage of sir (for male), sir kink, marriage kink, breeding kink, office sex, elevator sex, sex in a public place.

a/n: OH MY GOD. so many people were waiting for this, i can't even imagine. i've had some really tough months when i could not find time to write at all, so i am very sorry for the delay. well, here you go! i hope it meets your satisfactions! putting the taglist in a reblog because the fanfic itself is massive. please let me know your thoughts!! reblogs, comments and asks are so appreciated <3 thank you for reading!

part 1

You bite your nails nervously. You do this often, it’s a habit you mask well through regular manicures at your home. No one knows about it. No one needs to know.

You’ve tried it all in these last two days, you swear. You’ve tried every trick on the web- listing the pros and cons of your thoughts on a sheet of paper (on your phone’s notes app), venting to someone (yourself in the mirror), meditation, drinking wine and unwinding in a bathtub, listening to white noise to help you sleep.

It doesn’t help. Nothing does. Nothing helps to erase the thoughts from your mind, nothing helps to stop the cogs and wheels of the gears turning in your head, nothing helps to drown out the noise of your overthinking. You’ve worried yourself to a fever, and it’s on the fourth day that Jisung caves in and asks you, “Ma’am, are you doing okay?”

You can trust him, you know that. He had, after all, not outed your antics to your mother in spite of her attempts at bribing him with a higher salary. He had remained loyal to you, as he had himself confirmed when you’d brought up the issue with him the day after the fateful lunch invitation.

But he feels too close, too personal, and yet too distant. He would understand, and yet nothing at all. It feels like a gamble.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” You smile, while popping another paracetamol. At least the fever and its meds help you sleep.

“You don’t look like yourself. I don’t know if I am in a position to say this, but… is this about the thing your mother discussed with you Ma’am?”

“Are you reading my mind, Jisung-ah? Is that your secret to being the best secretary in the world?” You chuckle drily, staring outside the glass window that makes up a wall in your office. It’s a rainy day, not the stormy kind, but the pestering kind. Where it drizzles light enough that people don’t want to carry umbrellas, but the rain is so insistent, it drenches you right through anyway.

“I don’t know how appropriate it is for me to ask anything regarding this Ma’am. But I genuinely am curious about how Mr Y/L/N and Mr Jeon agreed to it in the first place.”

On the day you’d spoken to him about the entire affair, you’d told him the truth about your relationship with Wonwoo. His loyalty had earned him at least this much truth, and you were glad to have a confidant. You tried to play it off as coolly as you could, but as soon as you’d spilled the truth, you’d realise what a big weight had been relieved off your chest. It felt like being a teenager again. You had explained to Jisung that it was not romantic in the least, and in fact, you wanted to draw an end to it. You didn’t care to tell him that it was because you were addicted like a drug.

That was the problem. These last three days wouldn’t have become such a burden for you had you simply called Wonwoo and sought his help. Like a magician, he’d silence the thoughts in your mind and leave you with more clarity than ever, almost like a fresh slate beginning anew. You knew he was the perfect solution, but you had decided to cut it off. There was no point in persisting in this kind of a relationship where you weren’t even friends, not even on talking terms, and yet you needed him to stabilise you. All while he didn’t need you at all. For him, you were just another of his regulars. He’s probably already replaced you by now.

“My mother can be… very capable when she wants. She has her ways.”

“I’m sure she does. It must not have been an easy feat to swallow pride to agree to the idea of the wedding and take the Jeons out for lunch.”

Words get stuck in your throat. Pride. You’ve never let go of it. Life has been humbling, but you’ve never stopped being proud of who you are and what you’ve been able to achieve. All the dreams you’ve fulfilled. It forms an integral part of who you’ve become, your identity, and the way you perceive yourself. You’ve tried to not let it become arrogance nor vanity, although you have had sufficient reasons. That discipline is also something you pride yourself on.

“But I guess it’s not a big price for happiness,” Jisung completes his little philosophical speech and busies himself with arranging out letters on your desk that need to be signed, arranged in order of urgency. “I’ll be at my desk Ma’am, should you need any help.” He bows and leaves the room, and you’re still staring out of the window.

Happiness.

What an odd word. What an odd sensation for the billions of people across the world to be chasing all their lives. You had always considered yourself to be above that rat race for gratification and validation. Your successes spoke for itself, and you had no reason to consider yourself unhappy when you were living the dream you’d envisioned since you were a child.

But are you happy?

It’s just for an enjoyable late night drive, you reason with yourself when you find yourself driving on the road that takes you from your office to Wonwoo’s office building. It’s just to see if their coffee has improved, you think, when you step into the building and walk inside. It’s just to see if their employees are forced to work overtime, you figure, when you’re granted a visitor pass by the reception desk even though they’re shocked to see you here.

“What are you doing here?”

Wonwoo stares at you from the end of the corridor. It’s not lit very brightly and totally empty.

“Are you busy?”

Wonwoo’s tongue goes into his left cheek, you see it through his skin. He’s wearing a suit in baby blue. You knew he’d look good in blue.

“Yes. I’m working late as you can see. I don’t enjoy it particularly, so I don’t do it unless I’m really behind on work.”

And why’s that so? Trying to catch up with our closing figures for the financial year? A snarky comment is on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t want to say it. The jibe feels tasteless, even for you.

No, tonight you’re here in desperation, you finally admit to yourself. You’re here because like any other addict, it’s hard to let go once you get used to the high of happiness you ride when the dopamine kicks in.

“Sorry. I’ll leave.” His rejection is clear. He knows what you’re here for, that’s for sure. You’d never go out of your way to come to his office if it had been for anything else. It’s a good reminder call of reality.

This is the boy your parents want you to marry. This is the boy you rejected from marrying and from sleeping with. He has every right to turn you down now.

Wonwoo takes a step forward, you take a step backward. It’s a dance. You pause, you don’t even know when you were on the verge of tears. You bite your lips and turn away your face. You walk away quickly, as silently as you arrived. Your thoughts are loud enough to mask the sound of Wonwoo jogging after you, and you only realise when he grabs your arm as soon as you enter the elevator. He enters too, naturally, face a bit flushed from the chase, but before you can ask him what’s up, he pushes you against the mirror on the back of the elevator and kisses you hard.

It knocks your breath away. In the best way possible.

You kiss him back. Wildly, passionately. Like lovers, you would think in retrospection, not like rivals who fuck. As if you’d missed each other. Another second of overthinking and you’d delude yourself into believing that he needs you as much as you do. But thankfully, he kisses well enough to wash your thoughts away.

“Don’t run away from me like that, girl.” He snarls near your ear, his breath making you ticklish, and you whimper when he begins to kiss your neck. He’s going to leave marks again, and frankly, you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand him. Not when your brain is finally drifting away from the anxiety.

The elevator dings just as he puts his lips back on yours, tongue forcing itself in. You break apart, gasping for air. You haven’t even noticed what a mess you’ve made of his hair. “Wonwoo I… I can leave, really. If you’re busy.” “No, stay.” He doesn’t step away from you even when the elevator door opens, holding you down with his hands, keeping you close to him. The elevator door closes again, and he frantically presses the floor number of his office. “Come with me while I pack up,” he says as an explanation, and you understand. Then he unbuttons your shirt and begins to suck bruises all over the exposed flesh over your collarbones and chest, hands fondling with your breasts. Even over the bra, he instantly finds your nipples and rubs them to perfect hardness, making them so sensitive, that when he lifts you up into his arms and wraps your legs around his waist, your nipples brush against his face and he can feel the nubs poking out.

“You get turned on like you’re a touch-starved bitch,” he says roughly, making you thrash your arms against his back for the rudeness, before chuckling and thrusting his mouth onto the clothed nipples to suck them while he walks out of the elevator, holding you in his arms still, and seemingly facing no difficulty in walking at all. You become silent again, as you ponder on how strong he really must be, and his bites at your nipples do nothing to prevent the manhandling kink from showing itself.

“Take me on your desk, Wonwoo.” You beg as he enters his office, but he laughs and puts you down on his chair. Thankfully the entire floor is empty. He begins to arrange papers and turn off his desktop, while you sit silently at his desk. The high slowly wears out as his clearing up takes longer and longer, until you’re no longer turned on anymore and reality strikes.

He looks at you once all the work is done, staring deep at your soul, making you feel naked. Consciously, you start to button up your shirt and fix your collar.

“I thought we were done with this, Y/N.”

He says it like you’d dumped him while dating, and it’s funny. But you can’t laugh. You did cut him off and now you’re begging him to take you back. It’s a little absurd- inconsistency has never been one of your weaknesses. You’re tempted to dissect it in your brain and understand why it’s happening, but you fall into a spiral of overthinking again.

It’s getting tough to breathe.

You stand up and walk around the room. It’s spacious, with a simple layout, nothing modern like your own office space. You can’t blame it, it definitely screams Wonwoo to you. Instead of huge windows on the walls, he has mahogany shelves stacked with books. Instead of a statement chandelier, he has minimalist lights in focal points of the room. Instead of a charcoal grey settee with everything in cool shades of steel, his office is done in off-white, decorated with rich tones of wood. The room tells you so much about Wonwoo, although you probably know it all already- legacy, tradition and diligence. This is what he’s made of, old money that takes no risks and succeeds without gambles.

“You know why I had to come back.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He walks up to you, standing in front of you, as you gaze at the books on his shelves. “Y/N, look at me.” And you do. He looks like Adonis and you want to kiss him. “You said it was getting toxic for you.” He snaps you back to attention, and you sigh. “I can’t… Wonwoo, I tried. But I…” you walk away, unable to continue. Continuing would mean telling him what’s driving you to the brink of anxiety every moment of the day.

“We can talk. If this is about that day, we’re in this together. We may not be friends, but we can be allies in this.”

The simple way in which he says these words, you don’t think he realises how much more vulnerable he makes you feel. How much more tempted to spill it all to him and be relieved of the burden of this worry.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Wonwoo. I didn’t come here for talking.” You walk back towards him. “Fuck me and make my brain stop thinking, please.” He closes his eyes for a second. The tension is palpable, it’s making your palms sweat. You tilt your head and gently lean in to kiss the edge of his jaw. His stubble grazes against your softer lips and it’s a nice feeling.

“I can’t say no when you ask like this.”

You wake up in the middle of the night, clammy with sweat and naked under the sheets, alone in Wonwoo’s king-sized bed. Your wrists hurt from being tied with his tie for too long, and you’re definitely too sore to move, but the pleasant buzz all over your body is too good a sensation to forgo. But now that you’ve woken up, you feel thirsty and hot all over, so you get out of bed. You notice your underwear neatly kept on the couch, Wonwoo had taken care to not rip them. You quickly wear them before looking for any waterbottle in the room. Seeing none, and not seeing Wonwoo either, you open the bedroom door and slowly tiptoe your way outside. Once past the small corridor, you notice there’s a dim light in the kitchen, and you can see Wonwoo’s shadow from far away. As you step closer, you notice he’s wearing formals, complete with a glazing white shirt and a grey tie, and his hair is brushed back neatly, although his pants are still pyjamas. He’s doing something on his laptop. You wait in the shadows for a few minutes, trying to understand if he’s in a video meeting or something, but you only hear frantic typing noises from the kitchen. After a whole five minutes pass, you step into the kitchen, and Wonwoo looks up at the same time.

“Oh! You scared me.”

“Are you in a meeting?”

“No, it got over a while back. Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“The meeting was with a firm in Canada. They couldn’t adjust timings.”

“And you couldn’t get someone else to do it for you?” You huff, annoyed at how unbothered he is about waking up this ungodly hour and sitting for meetings. You once again thank Jisung for scheduling foreign meetings at suitable timings.

“Do you get someone else to attend your important meetings for you?”

You both stay in silence for a minute, Wonwoo sitting on his kitchen stool, and you standing awkwardly near the door, staring at each other. It’s only when you start shivering in the cold that you realise what you actually came here for.

“You’re working hard. Too hard. Don’t try to compete with me, Jeon.” You lean down on the island next to him, close enough to hear his breathing but not touching him at all.

“Go to bed, Y/N.”

“I was thirsty. Where do you keep water in your house?”

He gets up from his stool and brings a bottle. “Drink, and go to sleep. Or go home.”

You silently sip the cool water, without replying. You can see the dawn slowly coming up from the window in the kitchen, lighting the room up. The circles under Wonwoo’s eyes become prominent to you, and for no reason at all, your heart aches. This is what it’s going to be like, marrying you, Jeon Wonwoo, you think, as you look at him with a careful glance. He’s focusing on his laptop again, typing at light speed, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. You’re sipping water from his bottle, in his kitchen, wearing nothing but your underwear, and watching the sunrise. Is this what those nights filled with deadlines and insomnia are going to look like if you get married? Is this what staying up together will look like? Is this what watching the dawn together will be like? The sensation tingles your nerves and makes you anxious again.

“Y/N, if you want to say something, just say it. Or go to sleep, trust me. You’ll need to wake up fresh tomorrow morning.”

The kitchen is warm, cosy, and filled with the familiar scent of Wonwoo’s body. You want to stay wrapped in it, and not say a word. You don’t want to break this moment, although you have no idea why sharing this simple moment is making you so emotional. Perhaps because you’ve never done it before and never imagined you would do it?

“My father is dying, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stops typing and looks up.

“He has a tumour in his lungs.”

“Since when?”

“A few months now. He hadn’t told me. He didn’t want to bother me, my mom said.”

There’s a beat of silence. Again the warmth of the kitchen wraps you up and you both stare out at the slowly brightening sky outside. As a girl, you’d hate watching the sunrise. It would remind you of the nights you’d been unable to sleep and had been forced to stay up all night. But now, you can appreciate its beauty. Its consistency, its reliability. It happens every day. One of the precious few things that happen regularly, you’ve come to realise.

Wonwoo breaks the silence. “So why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why tell you now, of all times?”

“He wants to see me married before he dies.”

Wonwoo shuts down the lid of his laptop with a smash, knowing fully what’s coming next.

“Y/N. What do you want?” He stands up and comes to stand next to you, leaning against the counter and looking down at you.

There are many things you want to say. I don’t want to throw away my freedom. I don’t want to marry a stranger. I don’t want to dance to my Appa’s whims. I don’t want to lose focus on my career. I don’t want to marry you. “I don’t want to disappoint him, Wonwoo.” It’s the ultimate truth. It’s what has fueled you for years- the desire to become that child for your parents who would take care of them when they need you, to love silently and support unconditionally, to give back everything they’d given to you.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Is this what you were so worried about?” You look up at him, and he tilts your face upwards with his hand on your chin. You want to lean into the warmth of his palm. “Yes. I don’t… I … I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

“What about treatment?”

“Stage 4, practically impossible, that’s what the reports say. My mom showed them to me. She cried so much, and I… I couldn’t do anything. I can’t do anything.” You move away from him, turning your body to the other side. He lets you move away.

“Treatment abroad? In the US?”

“Yes, that’s… that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I’ve spoken to a few people, but Appa is adamant. He refuses to talk to me about this every time I’ve raised it, these last few days.”

He sighs. Your heart aches again. You don’t even notice when tears begin rolling down your cheeks. You’ve never felt more alone than this, more helpless, more pitiful. What worth were your dreams and successes if life successfully left you unshielded in one stroke?

“Let’s get married. You’ll have more bargaining power to talk to him then.”

He makes it sound so simple. You’ve thought of this a hundred times before, and you still can’t register that he just said that. You turn around slowly, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes. “Don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not.”

“But I don’t want to marry you.”

“Even if it gets your Appa into a good treatment abroad?”

You stomp your foot, and hurt your bare toes on the cold tile. “Why is my Appa so stubborn?”

“Just like you, isn’t he?”

You glare at Wonwoo, but he’s deadly serious. There’s not a hint of a joke on his face, and he genuinely seems to be invested in this idea. “You’re serious.” “I am. I wouldn’t offer marriage to you casually.” You bite your lip, your heart rate begins to slow down. Wave after wave of calm washes over you, suddenly you can breathe well again. “You’re serious,” you say again, not believing it still. “I am. Do you want me to go down on my knees?” “Wonwoo, you’re not thinking about this. Don’t turn your back on me when you regret it later. This isn’t a light thing, it’s a marriage, for fuck’s sake!” “Is your Appa’s life more precious than your ego?” “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have come begging to you, would I?” “Then you know why I’m agreeing to this.” “Wonwoo, don’t take this on your conscience. I’ll forgive you if you step back right now.” “I won’t forgive myself.” He bends down to your eye level, and takes your chin in his hand again. “It isn’t going to be that bad, is it?”

You let out such a big sigh of relief that you’re sure the air tickles Wonwoo’s palm holding on to your chin.

You don’t fall asleep that night, or rather morning. Wonwoo makes tea, and you sit on the living room couch, an arm’s distance away from each other, chalking out a plan to convince your Appa to go abroad for treatment.

“When did your mother come and tell you all this?”

“The day after the lunch. She called me over.”

You’re our breadwinner now, Y/N. Your father didn’t want to tell you because he doesn’t want to bother you anymore. Your mother’s words echo in your mind. Is this what you’d come down to? Were you that male who couldn’t be bothered with any problems of the household just because you earned an income? Had you become those slimy men you’d hated all your life? Just because you had taken over the company didn’t mean you had stopped being their daughter, for god’s sake.

“He wants to die in Korea, he says.”

“That doesn’t mean we let him die without treatment.”

We. Wonwoo has started using it so freely, as if he’s truly considering you an ally like he had said before.

“What are you going to get out of this?” You perch yourself on the kitchen counter, your bare legs dangling next to where Wonwoo sits on his stool. You’re chewing on the granola bar you found in the fridge because you’re suddenly hungry.

Wonwoo looks at you for a second, pensive and thoughtful in the pause before replying. “We don’t have to do forever and always. We can divorce after the treatment is done.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I have my reasons.”

The sunrise is beautiful, another day has begun. Although one tornado in your heart has calmed down, it doesn’t mean you’re completely at peace though. You’re still burning with worry, there are a thousand questions floating in your head. You don’t know the answers to most of them, and you’re scared just like you had been when you had stepped into the adult world on your own footing, for the first time. But unconsciously, you’ve come to realise that you’re not alone this time.

You have Jeon Wonwoo with you.

You drive directly to your sister’s house to tell her about your decision. You realise that she has no idea that your mother has spilled the news about your father’s health to you, when you tell her that you’re only agreeing to this marriage on one condition. She tries to deny it at first, but then she realises it’s a useless task against your obstinacy.

“If you could admit now that you were dating Wonwoo, why didn’t you admit it that day?” she says finally, resignedly.

“So that you could hide Appa’s illness from me forever?

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Firstly, tell me why you’d been stalking me for so long.”

“Not for so long. Ever since Appa found out, he became obsessed with settling you down. It’s become his last wish, you know, that kind of thing. His last project. His last duty. His last task to complete before he… you know. It was just a happy coincidence that as soon as we prodded your chauffeur he spilled that you and Wonwoo had been spending an awful lot of time together.”

You scoff.

“Yeah, well, Wonwoo and I needed to talk over things. Commitment and stuff. Anyway, now we’ll give Appa what he wants. Promise me you won’t object to anything I say. Promise me you and Mom will back me up when I take him to the US for treatment.”

Her eyes soften down, tears brimming on the edge.

“He always loved you more, you know? Probably because you’re exactly like him.” “Unnie…” “No! I’m not jealous or anything. It’s natural to have a favourite child. He’s only human, after all. He found his ideal child in you- responsible and independent. He really sees himself in you, that’s why.”

You hug your sister from the side, as you sit down on the couch. Her belly is quite bulging now, stretched against the fabric of the loose lycra dress.

“If anyone can convince him, it’s you, Y/N-ah. Our maknae. The apple of his eye.” She smiles. There’s something so broken in her eyes, and you hate it. Your Unnie, who you’ve never seen sad. You wonder how much she’s had to hide from you to keep this news a secret. You wonder how long they’d planned to keep it a secret, anyway.

“Do you trust me, Unnie?”

She kisses your forehead, and smiles again, “Yes of course. Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s just… nothing. I just want to know I’m not alone.”

“You never were, sweetheart.”

After that, everything becomes a whirlwind. You barely have time to process things, how fast they happen. Wonwoo informs his parents, there’s another meal shared by the two families. You both still don’t tell anyone the truth about your relationship, and frankly, there’s no need to explain, when both families are so happy with the wedding. Especially your father. His eyes shine, and you stick by his side all evening.

“My little girl’s all grown up now.” He says to you later. You almost cry at the fondness of his words, affection he rarely shows. There’s no more words spoken. There’s no need for words. You tuck him into bed, and pat him to sleep. You don’t want to leave his side at all.

You don’t cross paths with Wonwoo for the week running up to the wedding. There’s a clear division of work- he’s handling the internal logistics, and you’re running the external front. This is nothing but a business project for the two of you. You’ve pushed the worries about the marriage to the back burner, your priority being your father right now. You’ve already booked a treatment plan for him in the US, booked his flight tickets, and sorted everything out. Of course, you haven’t approached the topic with him yet, but you drop hints every day.

You’ve decided to live with your parents until the wedding. You find it harder to stay away from them these days. Somehow, everything reminds you of them, and you’re brought to tears in the middle of a work meeting one day, when you remember how your father had brought you to the first stakeholder meeting when you were 16 years old, to introduce you to the world of business. You don’t want to leave life upto fate anymore. At least not the bits you can help.

Part of managing the external front is speaking to the media. There’s countless questions at your latest press conference. Although the conference is to launch a new product, the journalists seem to be more interested in hearing the truth about the rumours currently floating around. You’d expected this, that’s why you’d timed the release of the rumours and the launch of the product at the same time. The public opinion needs to be in favour of your marriage, otherwise the alliance would hurt you both.

“Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, is it true that you’re soon getting married to Jeon Wonwoo-ssi of Jeon Estates?”

You blush, again a carefully practised move. You’ve spent many a minute in front of a youtube screen last night, trying to perfect the fake blush.

“Are we really going to discuss personal matters at an official conference like this?” Another measured smile, followed by a general laugh rippling across the audience for the sake of being polite. “But yes, it’s true. I won’t try to hide it anymore.”

At that very moment, a thousand questions pop up from all corners. “Anymore? Y/L/N Y/N-ssi, does that mean that you’ve been together for a long time now?” “Can we expect a merger of Jeon Estates with your company, then?” “Is the marriage a business decision or an affair of love?”

You’re another fake smile away from throwing up right now. Their curiosity gets on your nerves, you know that no matter what you say, they’re going to interpret what they really want to. Thankfully Jisung, who is moderating, carefully steps in and stops the journalists from asking any more questions. “We’ll not be taking any more personal questions. With that we come to the end of the conference. If you have any more questions, please write to us and we shall answer them over mail. Thank you for attending today.”

You exit the conference hall quickly, eyes hurting from the flashlights. It’s going to only get worse, you think. Time to brace for impact.

It’s only the night before the wedding that you get the jitters. You’re sitting on the floor of the balcony, looking at the roads of the Seoul night view, stress-eating cotton candy. You can’t believe that this is happening. Would you ever be able to have guessed this is how you’d be getting married? Not that you had ever harboured any ambitions about love or marriage. You’d been happy to see your parents share a loving marriage, and your sister as well. But since a young age, you’d decided that marriage was not for you. Sex? That was necessary. Dating? Perhaps, but casual. Love? Your first relationship in college had convinced you it was not your forte- you’d fallen out of feelings after a few months, and you had never tried to fall in love again. Marriage? Not even on the cards right now. Kids? Probably never. You didn’t think you’d live that long.

And yet, your wedding invite was sitting idle on your lap. Printed on beautiful handmade paper, intrinsically engraved with orchid petals, and the fonts printed out in a loopy serif font, it was really pretty. Posh and classy, like everybody expected. It had been sent out to a few people only, Wonwoo had asked for a small wedding, and you had happily agreed. Having to deceive your parents and sister was bad enough. Lesser the better.

The doorbell rings. You’re taken by surprise, not expecting anyone at this hour. Probably Jisung, perhaps he’s come to drop something off. That boy’s working too hard as well, you need to give him a raise after this entire affair is finished.

But it’s Wonwoo.

“Are you busy?” He asks before even entering.

“No?”

“Can I come in?”

He looks over your figure, the long t-shirt you’re wearing with the shorts that are hidden under the t-shirt. You’re getting more confused by the moment. You open the door wider, and he steps in.

“What’s going on?”

“There are details we need to talk about.”

You take a deep breath, leaning against the wall. Since that conversation at dawn with Wonwoo, you had started guarding yourself against him. Something had changed in your mind- you’d feel more vulnerable next to him, more bared, more naked. Even if he didn’t look at you, you’d feel like you could read your mind all the time.

“Like what?”

“I made a contract. It’s a… guidebook of sorts.” He sits at the sofa, taking out his phone and placing it on your coffee table. He’s wearing his work clothes, so you’re guessing he’s come directly from work. “What’s it about?” You sit next to him, and he pushes your phone towards you. “Do you have a printer? We could print it out. Or you can-” “I’ll get a print. Do you want something?” He leans back on the sofa, but his posture is still stiff. You’ve not seen him like this. It’s almost like he’s nervous. “No. I need to leave quickly, so it’s best if you can go through this quickly. I don’t have time to waste.” You roll your eyes and stand up, keeping your knee perched on the sofa, terribly close to where his hand is. “What’s this attitude? We’re getting married tomorrow, and this is how you’re going to be?” “Well, what did you expect? Just because I agreed to marry and help you out, doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly be in love with you.” “Help me out? I didn’t fucking need your help, Wonwoo!” “Really? Your desperation told me something else that night.” He’s standing up now too, and it feels like he’s towering over you on purpose to make you feel small. You take a step back, he doesn’t move forward. It’s not push and pull, it’s gravity unwinding.

“Listen, we can still call this off. I don’t want to be an object of your pity.”

“Pity? I wanted to help you, Y/N. There’s a difference, or is your brain too ego-clouded to understand?”

“Wonwoo, I could marry anyone-”

“And yet, it was me you came to!”

“It was convenient! I couldn’t really marry … say, Jisung, when my parents had proof that we’d been sleeping together!”

“Oh, so it’s Jisung now-”

“It was a damn example!” You’re shouting now, but his voice is still low and hoarse. It creates goosebumps on your skin.

“If that’s who you want to marry, you can go ahead. You better know that I have no desire to be wedded to you tomorrow!” He takes a step forward, and you step back. “What do you think I am, huh? Your toy? Today you want to fuck, tomorrow you want to end things, the next day you come begging at my door to blow your mind with my dick, and the day after that you want to get fucking married? You don’t think keeping up with your plot twists are stressful for me? Do you think I’m getting off on your mood swings? I am helping you, because you’re in a dire situation. Don’t you dare spin this narrative to anything else, because it is not charity or love for you that’s motivating me to step into this hell of a marriage that I can see coming.”

With every word he utters, he steps closer and closer, and you keep walking back until your back hits the wall. And then he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the exact dilation of his pupils even beyond his glasses. “I don’t need your help, Wonwoo. I’m not a damsel in distress.” He closes his eyes for a second, breathing in. When his eyes do open again, they’re different- darker, yet with more clarity, less angry and yet more dangerous. He leans down, and for a second, for a delusional mindless moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You part your lips, waiting for impact, as he tilts his head ever so slightly, all while staring into your soul.

“I don’t give a fuck about you, Y/N. I don’t care. I’m just repaying an old debt.”

Then he steps back and picks up his phone from the coffee table. “I’ll mail it to you. Don’t be a brat and make sure to read it.”

You’re still stuck against the wall like an insect, too stunned to move. Before he walks out of the door, he says without looking at you, “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

The wedding dress is simple, nothing in frills. You see it for the first time when you wear it on the morning of your wedding. As you sit in your dressing room, revising your vows, your sister enters. She’s all but jumping in excitement. “Darling, why so serious?” She grabs your hands and smiles widely at you. “Today’s your big day! Don’t think about Appa’s sickness today, or work stuff, or anything at all. Your wedding day isn’t going to come back, so you make sure to make the most of it!” You wish you could laugh at her face, her words seeming ridiculous to you. You wish she wasn’t so excited, it would only save her the disappointment she’d have to face later.

So you force a smile. “Is it time? I’m just nervous. What if I forget my vows?” “Then you forget them. You love Wonwoo, Y/N-ie. You can just declare your love freely. You don’t need to stick to a script. Go ahead and curse him if you like!” You do laugh at this, and she joins you too. “There! That’s my girl. Honestly, discovering that you and Wonwoo… together… it was a shock for us. Like, we’d never thought of you both ever liking each other. But then, it made sense. Especially what he had said that night, I remember. That’s the moment I knew, something was definitely up” You gawk, “What night?” She giggles, “That night at the party. You know? Don’t act dumb, cutie.” She wriggles her eyebrows and it dawns on you what exactly she was referring to. Fuck. Of course she had heard, fuck Wonwoo for being so damn loud.

You got out of your head, when someone called you to the hall, telling you that it’s time. You slowly make your way out of your dressing room, making sure your dress doesn’t get spoiled. Your father waits outside the room, dressed elegantly.

“Are you ready?”

There’s an odd peace in his eyes, as he smiles at you with pride.

Fuck it. Thank god you’re getting married early. Otherwise who’d walk you down the aisle… if you got too late?

“Yes, Appa.” You smile back, and loop your arm through his outstretched arm.

The gates of the hall open up, revealing a beautifully decorated banquet, with an announcer standing in the centre, to conduct the ceremony. All the guests turn to look at you, dressed to their nines. But you’ve got eyes on only one person in the room.

For the first time in your life, you think Wonwoo looks beautiful. Attraction based on looks was barely something you experienced with him, but today you realise why people fell for him like dominos. He looks absolutely regal in his tuxedo- simple, yet that’s what suits him perfectly. You think, you’ve never seen Wonwoo wear anything excessive, always minimalistic, and really he looks best like that. Because he doesn’t need any accessories, his face does enough.

“Go, sweetheart,” your father leaves you midway the walkway, and you realise you have to walk the rest of the way on your own. You bow a little to Appa, and then look up front again. Your eyes meet Wonwoo’s and your heart races. He looks too pretty to be real, and yet you find yourself walking towards him. The entire audience erupts into applause when Wonwoo takes a few steps forward and extends his hand. You take it, and he accompanies you to your place, dropping your hand only after a slight peck pressed on the back of your hand. The crowd erupts in cheers again, and for the first time in your life, you blush genuinely.

You stand facing the announcer, not daring to look at the man next to you. You have enough time to look at him anyway.

The rest of the wedding ceremony went off peacefully. After reciting your vows perfectly, hand in Wonwoo’s hand, avoiding his eye contact desperately, and exchanging the rings, the announcer asked you to kiss. Well, that was easy. He didn’t use tongue, thankfully, otherwise you would’ve moaned in public. Even the drinks and dinner arrangement afterwards was easy. Smiling and small talk came like free flow to you after so many years.

The hard part comes later, when you both sit in your designated limousine, exhausted after the long ceremonies of the day. Your feet hurt in the heels, and using the washroom had been a pain in the dress, so you’d desperately held on to your bladder. You’re counting down the minutes to going home, and all you want is peace.

But Wonwoo, like so many other things, is not on the same page as you.

“Where are we going?” You ask, noticing that the car’s heading in the opposite direction as your house.

“To my house.”

“Wait, what?”

He looks up from his phone. “Didn’t you read the guide?”

“Wonwoo, I’m not jobless, you know.”

“I fucking knew it. Right, you’re too busy being a brat.” He mutters under his breath, before opening a can of a fizzy drink from the mini cooler inside the car, and looking outside the window.

“I haven’t even packed my stuff, Wonwoo. I can shift in once I’ve got my stuff ready.”

“You don’t know how many eyes are following us? What will the media think if we get off at different apartments tonight? It was hard enough stopping my parents from booking us a honeymoon suite.”

You sigh. He’s right. But he doesn’t stop talking.

“You’ve got time now, read the guidebook.”

“Just tell me what’s in it, Wonwoo. Stop making such a fuss about it. Also what the fuck is a guidebook without my suggestions.”

“If you’d read it, you would have made suggestions, darling. I wasted my time going to your place last night. Anyway, if you need anything urgently from your apartment, I’ll send my secretary to fetch it for you.”

“No thanks. I don’t need anything.”

Thank god you’re familiar with Wonwoo’s apartment, because you immediately lock yourself in the bedroom and take off your dress. Once it’s off, you unlock the room, and find an exasperated Wonwoo standing outside. “Woman, why are you monopolising territory already?”

“Just go change in the guest room, Wonwoo.” You push past him, dressed in underwear, carrying your heavy dress and laying it across the living room sofa to avoid creases from forming. Then you head straight into the bathroom to clean your makeup and take a shower. 30 minutes later you emerge, and Wonwoo’s nowhere to be seen.

After a few minutes you find him on the small personal rooftop that extends from his apartment through a small flight of stairs. You’d never gone to the roof, but now you see it has a nice bench on it, and is surrounded by lights.

Wonwoo’s smoking.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I didn’t know you were going to hoard my space as soon as you entered my house.”

He doesn’t look at you, still gazing out at the Seoul skyline.

“You could’ve used the other one.”

You breathe in once, and then speak again.

“I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.”

“Wait.” He finally turns around, and you can see his hair is completely messed up and his eyebags are visible under his glasses again.

“Did you take my clothes?”

“Just a pajama shirt.”

He nods, seeing what you’re wearing. The cool breeze makes your skin tingle, almost making you regret taking off your bra and wearing only panties under the shirt.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re not coming along?”

He turns away again. Well, fuck it. It’s not like you’re going to butter him up for a response. And yet when you go downstairs again, you make sure to sleep on the left side of the bed, like you’d always done whenever you’d slept together before. You don’t know why you do it, but you go to sleep assuming he’ll eventually come to bed.

He doesn’t. The next morning, you wake up to see the other side of the bed absolutely empty and untouched. He’s even taken away his pillow and blanket and you suddenly find yourself shivering. When you’re awake enough, you squint at the clock on the wall and figure out that it’s almost eleven in the morning. Quite late for someone like you. But then, it has been an exhausting day.

Did Wonwoo not sleep at all?

You put these thoughts away when you stumble into the washroom, nearly slipping because your step is unbalanced. But that minor shock completely jerks you awake at least.

Once you’ve brushed your teeth (without even realising how your toothbrush had magically appeared in Wonwoo’s bathroom even though you hadn’t packed and brought a thing), you walk out of the room. Again, there’s no sign of Wonwoo. The house is humid, from no windows being open, so you gently open up a few sources of ventilation. As the noise from the outside world begins to float into the house, the silence gets broken and you feel less claustrophobic. Sunshine falls on the simple upholstery and decorations of the house, and it makes everything shine. It’s a hot day, but at least it’s a sunny day. You hate gloomy days.

You quickly search for Wonwoo in every room. And you eventually notice that the bed in the guest room seems to have been slept in last night. Was that where Wonwoo had slept last night?

It didn’t make sense. It’s not like you two had not shared a bed earlier. Sure, Wonwoo had never stayed in the same bed with you for longer than an hour after the sex, unless it was a marathon until the morning, and you rarely ever woke up next to his warm body, but it seemed absurd that he’s treating you like a complete stranger. It’s not like the movies, for fucks’ sake. You’re familiar with each other, even if you’re not in love. And sharing a bed isn’t a big deal.

Exactly Y/N. So why are you making it such a big deal?

There’s a printout of something on the coffee table. You head over and see that it is the ‘guidebook’ he’s kept blabbering about. Why is he insisting that you read it? You have an impulse to go and dump it in the dustbin and push his limits a little further, but then you have pity on him. But it’s not like you wanted to stay with him either. He’s the one who made you come and live with him. So technically, you shouldn’t feel any remorse or pity. So you do dump the prints in the dustbin without a second look at it.

That’s when you hear your phone ring. “Hello, I’m speaking from ABC Packages. We’re here to shift your packages from your old house to your new residence. We’re waiting outside the door, are you at home?” Huh? “I’m sorry, who asked you to do this? Do you have a name?” “Yes Ms. Y/L/N. The order came from a Jeon Wonwoo-ssi.” No wonder. “Aaah. Okay, just wanted to confirm,” you quickly say to avoid any suspicion. “Yes I’m home. I’ll open the door.”

And so the next hour is spent in a flurry of bringing in boxes, and when the delivery persons leave, you open them all. There seems to be enough space in Wonwoo’s walk-in closet for your stuff, which isn’t much at all. So you hang up all your formals, which form the majority of your clothing, and stash the rest of it in the shelves. Your shoes are also lesser than Wonwoo’s and you barely have any accessories and makeup apart from essentials. The problem arises with your underwear and … other personal belongings. You’re not sure if Wonwoo would appreciate opening his underwear drawer to find your box of dildos stashed there. But there’s no other space, so he’ll just have to deal with it.

Thank God you’d taken the day off. Jisung had offered that staying away from work would make the impression of the honeymoon more imminent, and you’d agreed. Although it does seem like Wonwoo had gone to work all the same. And so, you’re left all alone in the house, and while it’s a little odd, you sit at almost every surface of the apartment to get used to it. Sure, you’ve been sat at all of these before, in various positions, as Wonwoo had fucked you, but it feels different now under the sunlight. You’re not surprised to find Wonwoo’s fridge stocked almost completely with ample groceries, so making lunch isn’t a hassle (apart from the fact that you barely know how to cook anything). But all-in-all, it’s not a tedious day, and you’re settling in nicely.

Until Wonwoo comes home, blazer on his arm and his hair messy. He lets himself in, but you’re sitting on the kitchen counter, checking out what’s kept where. “Oh, you’re here.” You turn around and see him flunking down on the sofa, legs sprawled out. “Are you that tired?” He doesn’t answer at first, just stares at you for a second too long. “I am. It’s been a long day.” “I’m making coffee, do y-” “No. I’m going to the gym now.”

Gym takes longer than you imagine. It’s well past 10 pm when Wonwoo makes his way back, and you’ve already finished your dinner of cup ramen and ice cream. He doesn’t bother to look at you and wordlessly enters the guest bathroom. You consider entering the guest room and waiting for him, and then talking to him about why he slept separately, but then you drop it. You know he won’t answer you properly, and it’ll be a waste of effort. You sigh and make your way to the bedroom, leaving the door unlocked and slightly ajar so that he knows he’s still invited inside.

Wonwoo and you arrive last at the little gathering your family has set up to celebrate the one month anniversary of your marriage. Wonwoo’s family is here too, along with Kyungmin Oppa and your sister, and it’s a big group even for the large sprawling, and largely empty house, where you parents reside. You’d think it’s easy to get lost in the crowd, but not when you’re the newly wed couple who’s the focus of the party.

“I’m so disappointed y’all aren’t going on a honeymoon,” your sister endlessly complains, and she’s completely backed by the two mothers. “Yes!” Your mother joins in. Just like the rest of the family members, she seems to have bought your wedding as 100% real as well, although she should’ve been the first to connect the dots that you’re only doing this sham wedding for the sake of your father’s wishes. “I have itineraries planned for Bali, for Scandinavia, for the Maldives, or even for Japan, if you don’t want to go too far!” She giggles, and the other ladies do too. You don’t understand what’s so funny. Especially when you know how little conversation you’ve shared with your husband over the last month, in spite of not being strangers.

In fact that makes it worse, you think. Wonwoo’s wearing a dark blue blazer over a white shirt which puts his pecs right in your face. You know what it’d be like to touch them, and bite all over them. The way he has his left hand pressed against the small of your back means he knows what it’d be like to just drop his hand an inch lower and feel your ass against his palm. Andit is worse because even though you know each other intimately, there’s so little emotional connection you feel with him now. Whatever vulnerability had developed around him when he’d first agreed to the wedding had become hardened again under his cold attitude, and you’re back to just who you were when you’d grinded up against him at your sister’s engagement party. You curse yourself for thinking that you could ever feel a nice way about Jeon Wonwoo, because honestly, look at the man. He’s probably never regretted any decision taken after midnight as much as he’s regretted the decision to marry you.

When you sit down at the dinner table, you notice him not eating any of the seafood. You wonder if he’s just not hungry or rudely ignoring the special grilled fish that is your Appa’s speciality. It’s probably the latter- some testosterone shit. And yet, he’s speaking charmingly smoothly with your Appa, even though Wonwoo’s not much of a talker and you know that.

When he sits in the corner of the room, smiling and talking to your mother, you wonder what lies he’s spewing. You’ve noticed how easily lies come to him at the wedding itself, when he’d spinned tale upon tale about your ‘love story’. I fell for her, honestly, for the first time, when she’d walked into my class in ninth grade. You had scoffed, remembering the disgusted expression he had worn in reality, when he’d seen you being introduced into the class. Of course, we’ve known each other for a long time now. Naturally, there have been ups and downs. Gosh, this reminds me of the time we’d gone on that date to the amusement park after our last day at school, huh? We’d fought so bitterly after that, you’d think we were enemies. Haha. You’d nearly laughed at that- your school had taken you all out to the amusement park on the last day of classes, and somehow Wonwoo and you’d been seated together on all the damn rides. Fuck him for laughing at you for becoming scared on the roller coaster rides and then pretending to take care of you when you had passed out in his arms at the very peak of the ride. You bet the teachers had cooed at him for being so chivalrous, when in reality it was a smack to your face.

When he leaves early, and leans in to press a kiss to your lips, you almost cringe away. It feels like you’re kissing a stranger even though his lips and the stubble on his jaw feel so familiar. This is the first time he’s shown you affection in front of others. It’s all a show, you know. You gotta do what’s needed to keep the show running. “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart,” he says before pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ears. You search in his eyes for honesty, and all you find is a dark abyss.

But it seems like your family buys the facade again. Banking on the fact that they seem pleased with your husband, and on your good choice of marriage, you finally broach the real issue with your father. You’re both sitting at the patio, sipping whisky after everyone’s left and the two of you have some peace after a long day of chattering and feasting.

“Appa, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes, Y/N-ah?”

You pause before answering. Finally, you decide to take the blunt route, knowing that there’s no easy way about this.

“Come with me to the US for your treatment.”

He sighs. It’s a sigh that sounds almost like a cough, and it makes you wonder how much phlegm is stored in his damaged lungs now. You wonder how you didn’t notice it before.

“Who told you?”

“Eomma.”

“Of course she did.” He sighs again, and looks at you. “Are you asking me or commanding me?”

“Appa, I’m not your boss. I can’t command you.”

“But you’re my daughter. I know how children feel when they think their parents aren’t listening to them.”

You smile. “I’ve always been stubborn, you know. I’ve got it in my genes.”

“Genes I’m proud of. How much has your mother told you? Did she mention I’m in stage 4 and it’s practically incurable?”

“Yes, and no. There are still chances to cure it, Appa, if only you’ll listen to me.”

“Sweetie-”

“Why aren’t you giving this another chance? I didn’t know you to be a person who easily gives up!” You can feel yourself getting angry, tears pooling in your eyes. It’s stupid how he’s arguing against it, illogical, meaningless. Your heart breaks every time you look at his eyes- they’re old, wrinkled, and yet the fire hasn’t gone out. Does he really want to end it all this fast?

“You know, I get where you’re coming from. But… I don't want to prolong suffering, Y/N-ah. It’s time, I can feel it. There’s no point being a vegetable pushed about in a wheelchair and drinking soup for the rest of my life. There’s no point living if I have to just gobble medicines all day and not drink any more port wine. There’s no point living a life which isn’t even a life, it’s just a laboratory experiment.”

You do burst out crying at this. You want to throttle his neck, and shake him, and ask how could he say such things.

“Aaah, Y/N-ah! Don’t cry-”

“You’re making me cry, Appa! You didn’t even tell me! Were you just planning to sit on it till it’s too late?”

“It is never too late, Y/N-ah. Appa is always here with you, even if I can’t be here physically.”

The tears don’t stop, he pulls you closer, until you’re wailing on his shoulder, and he hugs you with one arm.

“It’s not fair,” you mumble in between tears, hiccups interspersed in your words. Then he only rubs your back and you gently quieten down. “I don’t care, Appa. Come to the US with me. I’ve spoken to doctors, they’ve said there are chances to improve.” He smiles wistfully, looking at your face, which is childishly covered in snot and wet tears.

“Appa, you have to promise me you’ll try. For me, please. I’m not ready for this.”

“It will be a waste of time and effort. I would rather you pay attention to your career. And also your marriage.” “There’s not much to pay attention to. Wonwoo and I are busy almost all the time,” you try to dismiss him. “But you are young, and in love. I should believe there’s nothing other than your love life you should pay more attention to.” You sigh. It’s sad, just how well you and Wonwoo have deceived them all, even your most observant father. You wonder how it is possible, given how distant the two of you are- emotionally, always, and physically, recently. “There is something called urgency, Appa. There’s an order to how things need to be done.”

There’s a few long minutes of silence. Your father finishes the drink in his glass and looks at the stars in the sky. You, for one moment, are sure he’ll put up another fight. “You’ve never asked me anything with so much insistence, Y/N-ah.” “You’ve not hidden anything from me before, either.” There’s another pause. The waiting is tiring, and you’re going to cry again.

“Alright. I’ll do it, Y/N. But on one condition.” You hang on to his words, waiting for him to continue. “One chance. I’m not going back again if there is a relapse. I will not push my fate to a sour ending. You go back to your life, where I want to see you happy. And I will let nature take its due course.” You dare to smile, too afraid he’s going to take back his words. But then he smiles back, and beckons you to lie down on his lap, as he begins talking about something new he;s recently read, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

That night when you go home, you find Wonwoo playing in his gaming room. It’s a small room, probably meant to be a spare bedroom, or a kid’s bedroom, but he has an elaborate gaming setup there, and he locks himself up in it every weekend. Sometimes you wonder if he’s dead, but then you hear his cocky, hushed whispers of victory when you lean on the door. He’s always been good at games.

Today the door is slightly open, and you think for a deluded moment, that he perhaps left it open so that he could hear you enter the house. So you lightly knock and he turns around in his gaming chair. You realise he’s wearing a tank top, his hair hidden under a hideous beanie, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the brooding adult you’re married to.

“I spoke to Appa tonight.”

He looks up at you and takes off his headphones. He nods once, understanding immediately.

“I’m leaving for New York tomorrow, and I don’t want to delay the appointment.”

He stares at you for a second, then replies, “When is your flight?”

“Afternoon.”

“And how long are you going to be away?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a month, perhaps longer. I don’t want to leave until it’s all done. I want to see it to the end.”

He nods again, standing up from his chair. The screen flashes something about the game being paused, and his character awkwardly bounces about in the game field. The character has black hair and wears glasses like Wonwoo.

“Pack enough, then. I’ll be here when you come back.”

You nod, and he smiles. This is why you got married in the first place, afterall. You bet he’s glad to get the wheels moving as quickly as possible so that this farce can come down before he’s so tired of it that your mere sight repels you.

The next three months pass by like a whirlwind, a miracle from heaven. Because not only are the doctors extremely positive about your father’s condition, but also hopeful for complete treatment. A part of you is too wary of everything going too great, too good to be true, and you’re crying every night when you lie sleepless in your hotel bed. There’s not a single second you’re free from anxiety, and there’s literally nothing else in your mind except praying that every minute of the treatment goes well. You’ve never been so nervous, except when you’d been in college and getting your papers approved by your professors and they’d laughed straight up in your face at your ambitiousness. You get periodic calls from your colleagues, the managers and Jisung, most often. But if there’s a perk of being a CEO, it’s that your employees know when to respect your personal space, unless there’s an absolute emergency. Relatives call you, your sister calls you ever so often. You hope she doesn’t go into labour with your father still stuck on the hospital bed, but it’s only a small part of her worries, you’re sure. So you assure her about everything being alright and encourage to focus on her pregnancy being perfectly smooth, although Kyungmin Oppa tells you that her mood swings are more distinct now with more things to worry about. The baby kicks for the first time, and you wish you could be there. You don’t want to miss a lot of firsts, but it’s a small tradeoff you don’t mind making.

There’s only one person who doesn’t call you, Wonwoo. He probably knows that you don’t want to be disturbed, but sometimes you have thoughts. Thoughts about how different your life was just a few months ago. Thoughts about how your marriage is due to be annulled as soon as this business ends. Thoughts about whether you should have let Wonwoo ever into your life. Thoughts about how he feels about this entire thing. You know how he’d said he had just wanted to help you, but was it a moment of pity or a calculated decision? Was he actually humane enough to want to do this? You’re unsure, just like you’re unsure about how much you even know him. Sure, you’ve known him for your entire damn life, but not really.

Firstly, there’s the matter of the wedding. The fact that Wonwoo didn’t actually need to be roped in to convince your dad is a surprising issue. You hadn’t expected Appa to be so pliant to your words and your tears, when he had supposedly protested so much in front of Unnie and Eomma. Well, there perhaps was something called a favourite child. Secondly, there’s the concern of what happens now. It’s already been four months since your wedding, and it’s almost mid-December now. You’re 100% sure that Wonwoo will not be interested to drag on this farce for longer than necessary, so you mentally take notes to draft up divorce letters and take them to him as soon as you return to Seoul. Your PR team’s done a fairly good job in hiding the fact that you and Wonwoo have barely spent any time together since the wedding. So it’s not going to take much to silence the media if they raise eyebrows at such a quick divorce. Family will be easy to convince, as well. We just don’t have enough time for a full-on relationship now. We’re focused on our careers, that’s where our priorities lie. Honestly, this was why we were so hesitant about marriage in the first place. See, we told you, we weren't made for this relationship business. If only you hadn’t practically stalked us into it, we wouldn’t have to disappoint you all like this.

And what happens after that?

Do you remain exes who smile at each other at social gatherings? Do you remain fuckbuddies, forgetting about your trash past altogether? Do you become strangers who don’t even bother to remember birthdays?

You’re feeling dizzy, so you pass out on the couch in your hotel room.

It’s New Years’ Eve when you return to Seoul, and nobody can stop the smile on your face from breaking out every three seconds. Your father’s body may still be weak from chemotherapy, and he may have to visit the hospital every other week to get follow-ups on his treatment, but he’s alive and the spark in his eyes haven’t been snuffed out. There’s hope, infinite hope, and you feel whole again. There’s incredible joy blooming in your heart, even if all the trees are barren and all the world is grey. The doctors say that it is a godsent gift, and there can be a relapse, but the chances are low enough to be confident that there’s going to be at least five more years of happy life for your father. For someone who was praying for five more minutes, it’s a harvest too bountiful, and you feel like a person born again.

The happiness lasts the entire journey back home, back into the wide waiting arms of your mother who had never gone to the US because she was too scared of being there. You can see how the stress has taken a toll on her, as her figure seems frailer than before, and there’s no longer than glow radiating off her face. And yet, this gift is more than she, or you could ever have asked for, so you take what you can get. Your father’s organs haven’t failed yet, and he can eat better things than soup, so your mother’s cooked specially for him, although she hasn’t entered the kitchen in years. It’s softly cooked galbi and prawn pajeon, and he devours the meal after months of hospital food. You stay the night at your parent’s home, as your sister comes over along with her husband. It’s a great family reunion, and you feel like you could die in this happiness.

Except reality strikes when you wake up the next morning and realise that you should go to your actual home now. You wonder if he’s going to be at home or not, given that it’s the New Year and he may have plans with others.

But there he is, as you let yourself in through the main door, and he locks eyes with you sitting on the couch, wearing shorts and no shirt, his hair quite wet. Apart from the fact that this is the first time you’ve seen him wear shorts, nothing’s changed. He’s still exactly the same. It’s cold outside, and the journey here has frozen your limbs, but the house is warm as fuck, just how Wonwoo’s always liked it.

You can’t stop yourself. You don’t stop yourself when you run halfway across the living room and hug him without waiting for him to say anything.

To his credit, he doesn’t say anything. He simply hugs you back. His body is so warm in spite of being shirtless, and you can smell the fresh soap clinging to his body. He rubs one hand on your spine and for a second you feel tears threatening to flow down your face. Did you miss him?

“How’s your father?”

“Much better. There is hope.”

You can feel his hands moving more insistently on your back, stretching through all your muscles. It feels comforting in a way you’ve never received from Wonwoo. He doesn’t ask anything else, and you don’t mind.

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

You’re bent over on the floor, unpacking your suitcase in your own room when he casually saunters into his walk-in and you don’t pay heed. It’s only when he walks out wearing a black leather jacket, a turtleneck, a light gold chain dangling on his neck, and fancy sunglasses perched on his nose that you turn around to look at him. You’re shocked at seeing him like this- you realise you haven’t seen him in casuals in so long. You haven’t seen him in so long.

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, it is the New Year. I have a party with my friends.”

You’re too busy ogling him, so he asks, “Don’t you have plans?”

“Yeah, I’m going to unpack my stuff.”

“You could do that tomorrow. Going out with friends on New Years’ will not happen tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. You assume I have friends. It shouldn’t be news to him, you’ve told him this before. And yet, you feel embarrassed again. You didn’t know Wonwoo had friends, but it’s wrong of you to think every workaholic has no life like you.

“No. It’s been a tiring few months… I’d rather just sleep in.”

Wonwoo, surprisingly, sits down on your bed, facing you, and removes his sunglasses. You can see his pretty eyes from up close, and you realise that he’s never really sat on this bed since you’ve come to his house. “Do you want to come with me? They’ve been asking about you for quite some time now.” You look at him silently, “Nah, I don’t… don’t want to barge in.” “You won’t be.” “You’ll get late if you wait for me now.” “It’s not a big deal, most of them will be late anyway.” “Are you going to a nightclub?” “No, we’re going to a barbecue party.”

Small, private, cosy. You’ll definitely be barging in.

“No Wonwoo, I don’t want to go somewhere where I’m not welcome. And anyway, I’m cool with whatever you’ve told your friends about us.” “I haven’t said anything in particular.” “Well, then you’re good at avoiding things.” “I am. You must’ve been away too long if you’ve forgotten about this.”

You want to run away. He’s surely talking about avoiding being your husband- and he’s proud about it as well.

“Then you might avoid it further. There’s no need for me to make a public appearance.”

Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long. His jaw hardens, and you can see his tongue in his cheek. Then he gently pulls your hand into his own, and carefully touches your fingers, purposely avoiding the bit around your wedding ring. The way your fingers seem much smaller compared to his makes you feel a certain way. You pull your hand back, but he doesn’t let go. He ends up pulling you up to stand, so that he’s still sitting on the edge of the bed and you’re standing right in front of him. His fingers are still laced around your own, and you feel sparks at the touch after months.

“I’m going to show my wife off to my friends. And your excuses are pathetic, darling. You know you want me to show you off as well.” His fingers tighten their grip against your wrist, and you feel the vein in your wrist throbbing around his touch. “So get dressed nicely. I know you clean up well.”

It takes you a solid ten minutes to find something good to wear. Sure, you’re not big on fashion, but you like to look fit for the occasion. Especially if Wonwoo’s dressed up all fancily like that. But when you finally step out of the closet, you’re wearing a beige corset top with a black skirt, and a long black coat with tiny gold details. You find Wonwoo still sitting on your bed, scrolling through his phone. “How do I look?” you ask at the same time as he raises his head to look at you. After checking you out twice from top to toe, he nods slowly, but before you can exhale in relief, he says, “Will you feel cold in that skirt?” “No. And before you ask, I’m not wearing stockings. The coat will be enough.” “Don’t complain if you get cold later. Come down in five.”

When you’re finally in the car, you ask him if you should buy something for the host, since it is New Years’ afterall. “If we bought something for him, the others will be mad at us for not buying something for them too.” You laugh it off, wondering how that could be possible, and proceed to stop at a nearby store to buy one of the trendy perfumes that’s popular amongst men these days.

You find, not even half an hour later, that it is possible.

“Wonwoongi! You only brought presents for Mingoo? None for hyung? How will hyung survive without your generosity?” A lanky, beautiful man immediately latches himself onto Wonwoo’s arm as soon as you both enter Mingyu’s house. It’s a pretty bungalow situated a little far from the city, and decorated extravagantly with lights. It’s only after Wonwoo makes it through the first few people crowding near the entryway that everybody notices you.

There’s a collective gasp going around when everyone turns around and looks at you, smiles galore. And then they all start speaking together, and you get overwhelmed. Wonwoo shushes them all in an uncharacteristically loud voice, and announces, “Since y’all wanted to meet her, this is Y/L/N Y/N, my wife,” and you bow deeply to everyone as everyone greets you back. When you stand upright again, you stumble a bit, not having noticed the thick carpet, and Wonwoo’s quick to grab your hand. He casually interlocks his fingers with yours, and you both make your way into the apartment.

The first man you meet is Mingyu, the host. You’re shocked to see him, not expecting to see him as the host. So he’s the host. He’s become taller than Wonwoo now, his face still identical to what you remember from high school. It sparks an annoyance in you, as scenes from each sports day of your high school years flashes by. There wasn’t a single time when you hadn’t defeated Mingyu in tennis, badminton and squash. You really loved playing racket sports, and it seemed that so did Mingyu. But not just that- Mingyu’s arrogance was even more childish than that of Wonwoo because he was insanely arrogant about his looks and the number of girls (and boys) thirsting over him every day. Although you hardly met him outside school because he didn’t belong to a chaebol family, you’d actively glare at each other every time you met in school. You wonder what version of these same memories flashed in his mind as you stand in front of him now.

“It’s been a long time, Y/N-ah. Didn’t imagine that you and Wonwoo would end up married.” It’s a genuine smile, and for a moment, you wonder if you’d had the wrong impression about him all along. “We didn’t imagine it either, trust me.” Wonwoo smiles, and it breaks you out of your reverie. You hand Mingyu the gift, and say, “Thank you for extending your invitation to me.” “There’s no need to be so formal, Y/N-ah. But what’s the need for the gift?” “Since I’m visiting you for the first time… as Mrs. Jeon, I felt I shouldn’t come empty-handed.” Mingyu giggles and nudges Wonwoo’s arm, “Mrs Jeon, hmm? Feels like a Hollywood movie. Thanks Y/N, I’ll use it well!”

Then Wonwoo introduces you to the rest of his friend group one by one. You meet Seungcheol, who you remember all too well. “How the tables have turned, huh?” He chuckles, before handing you a glass of wine. There’s a familiarity in his mysterious smile, that twinkling look in his eyes, that elite tilt of his chin, as if he owned the world, which used to annoy the hell out of you, because to you, he seemed to be the stereotype of the worthless chaebol heirs who’d do nothing in their lives except eat out of their parents’ money. And yet, he’s made it big on his own, if news reports are correct, and perhaps you can find some respect for him now. “I hope we get along better this time, Seungcheol Oppa.” He’s the only man from Wonwoo’s high school group who you would call Oppa, and that was only to tease him because he’d been voted as the Sexiest Oppa of the Year at the end of the high school year. Seungcheol seems to remember that too, because he laughs, and you realise it’s a fond memory, no matter how much annoyance it had sparked in you back then.

Then there’s Jeonghan, who’d been that beautiful man who’d spoken to Wonwoo earlier with that aegyo nickname of Wonwoongie. who disarms you instantly with his jokes. Joshua, who’s introduced as the gentleman, but you can see the mischief in his doe-like eyes, much too good-looking for his own good. There’s Soonyoung and Seokmin, who are already playing beer pong, laughing and spilling a lot of the beer on the table (and the carpet, but they implore you to not tell Mingyu that). Seungkwan referees them, while he’s wrapped around his boyfriend, who’s extremely charming and interesting. Vernon and you speak for a good two minutes before Seungkwan interrupts you both and takes you to meet Jun. Jun is sitting on the other side of the room, with his girlfriend, Lihua. She’s also Chinese but speaks fluent Korean, as she’s a teacher in Seoul, as she explains.You find out that Jun is an actor in both Korean and Chinese tv shows, and his visuals explain a lot of it, for sure. Then there’s Minghao, who’s busy discussing Met Gala looks over the years with two women, Soyeon (Jihoon’s fiance) and Aeri (Chan’s girlfriend). Chan and Jihoon themselves are missing, but soon you find them in the kitchen, helping Mingyu and his fiance, Hayi, to make cocktails.

And when the introductions finally end, Wonwoo and you flop down on a couch in one corner, both tired from all that smiling and small talk.

“Are you sighing so loudly because they’re not nice?” He teases you, as he place an arm around the head of the sofa, successfully cradling you without even touching your body. “Wonwoo. I didn’t know you were still close to Seungcheol and Mingyu.” “Hmm… should I have warned you before bringing you here?” You turn your face away from him, “A warning would have been nice. I wasn’t really ready to see Mingyu’s annoying smile again after all those years of his delinquency.” Wonwoo laughs, and you continue, “But I’m curious. What did you tell them about me that they’re welcoming me with open arms? Did you tell them that I’ve completely changed or something?” “No. They had their reservations too, but it’s not like they could do anything. I told them only a day before we got married.” You open your mouth to refute, but quickly become silent. Not for the first time, you wonder, how had Wonwoo adapted into the marriage so quickly in spite of having nothing to gain and everything to lose. It reminds you of the divorce papers you had asked Jisung to prepare, so you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan comes and sits on your other side too. “Oh, we have another person joining our lazy line, I see.” He giggles as you look confused. “Wonwoo, Hao and I are the lazy line. We run out of battery first. We can’t keep up with the other over-energetic boy.” “But the absolute first is Wonwoo, of course. There’s no end to group photos where he’s yawning in all the shots.” Minghao strolls in, grabs Wonwoo by the arm, calling him to the other room where they’re all playing billiards, and then it’s just you and Jeonghan on the sofa.

“So, Y/N, I hear that you and Wonwoo have been friends since school?” You laugh, because he can’t have heard that. You know Jeonghan knows you both have never really been friends. He laughs too, and you realise how easily he’s prodded right into the truth. “It’s complicated,” you say safely, as you get a feeling you can’t hide from this man. “And yet I think you’re perfectly fit to be Mrs Jeon, from what I hear.” You laugh again, because genuinely it is a funny statement. You think he’s making a joke- probably about how you both hated each other’s guts in school, or had an equal temper. But no, he’s all serious and he repeats his statement with more sincerity. You twist your lips in confusion, and ask him, “How can you say that?” “Because I know Wonwoo very well. That’s it.” He then laughs a bit and continues, “They call me the Eomma of the group for a reason, you know. They’re all my kids. Even Cheol and Shua.”

And then Wonwoo calls you both to the barbecue which had begun on the outdoor patio.

The party may have begun awkwardly for you but it soon becomes quite exciting. The temperature continues to fall as it becomes darker in the night sky, but everyone’s gathered around the barbecue grill outside so you don’t want to move. The girls are mostly sitting together, sitting cocktails that Mingyu prepares for you, winking every way until he reaches his fiance who exaggeratedly winks back. You sit sandwiched between Aeri and Wonwoo, and while Wonwoo is busy discussing games with Seungcheol, Aeri doesn’t let you feel isolated. You’re included into the group surprisingly quickly, and soon you’re playing drinking games with them. Games you’ve never played before, so you’re obviously totally incapable at defeating them. They seem to play these every other weekend, while you’ve never even heard of these game rules. The reality sends pangs to your heart because it hits harder than ever that you’ve never had a friend group with who you could drink with. Not even a casual drink. Not even a girls’ night out. Not even a pole dance at a strip club.

“Okay! Let’s play the hongsam game,” Seungkwan shouts out and immediately everyone cheers in agreement. You must be looking confused as hell, because Jihoon quietly leans in to explain the rules simply. Seungkwan and Jihoon show you a small demo, and you nod. You may not have understood fully but you don’t want to hold up others in the game. And so the game goes on for nineteen rounds, and you lose ten of them. You somehow miss the timing every time, or maybe you just don’t know their names well enough. Even Joshua, who messed up the first three times, seems to have caught on, but you’re just stuck. Although they make you feel better about it, laughing with you instead of at you, and reassuring you that it’s okay to make mistakes, you feel embarrassed. It’s not a tough game, just requires hand-eye-brain coordination that you’re sure you’re not lacking in, but perhaps some part of you wants to do better because it’s Wonwoo’s friends you’re playing with, and performing poorly here would mean… well, you don’t know what it would mean, but it doesn’t sit right with you. So you try to be more competitive, and although you keep losing, as the shots go in, it feels less stressful and more fun. You become more familiar with the games, and the S.coups game you’re actually good at, although you have no idea why it’s called the S.coups game and Seungcheol personally makes it a point to threaten anyone who’s about to tell you why it’s called the S.coups game.

And so, as the night goes by, you become more comfortable. Even if it is still a little awkward, it’s not altogether bad. Mingyu and Seungcheol are being nice to you, although a bit wary. The others have positively welcomed you with open arms. And Wonwoo, well, he’s being a little odd. He’s having a hell lot of fun, being much louder than you’ve ever seen him. He seems more reserved than his friends, but then, his friends are too hyper. And while he doesn’t make direct efforts to talk to you, he’s becoming more touchy by the minute. The first few shots in, he was just putting an arm around your shoulders. Next few shots in, his hands are properly rubbing all over your bare arms as he makes you open the coat when you say your body’s getting warm with all the soju. When you feel the buzz of alcohol getting more serious by the second, his right hand, the same one which had held your hand earlier that day, places itself on your thigh and refuses to move. It’s splayed all over your thigh, nearly covering from end to end, and there’s not much skin showing anyway, but with his hand, it feels like you should’ve worn a shorter skirt.

Wonwoo’s favourite game is the mafia one. The game app somehow generates him to be mafia three out of four times, and he has way too much fun killing the innocent citizens who seem to be completely deceived by him. Wonwoo’s too good at lying, you realise, when you’re taken aback each time on finding out he’s the mafia although you’re sitting right next to him. The fifth round, you both are mafias, and after the penultimate round of guessing, when you two are the only mafias left alive and you lock eyes to decide who to kill, you giggle at the way he’s staring you down.

“I say, Soyeon. She’s the closest to guessing me out.” You say seriously, but his eyes aren’t even on your eyes. They’re fixed lower, at your lips, but you panic and shift away from him. Now his eyes look up at yours, confused, but you’re guessing he’s just drunk. He would never behave like this if he were sober.

“I say let’s get out of here. While their eyes are still closed.” He smirks, whispering hotly in front of your face, and you feel red all over.

“Wonwoo! They’re your friends.” “So what? They love you already. They wouldn’t be mad at you for leaving, if that’s what you’re thinking.” “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re having so much fun, why would you want to leave?” “Because I know I could have more fun with you with my face under that skirt of yours.” You’re blushing again. “You don’t want to know the number of times I’ve left fun gatherings like this to fuck you in my car, sweetheart. This time, at least, they’ll understand better.” You blush even harder, with the way he’s speaking. It’s making your heart beat too loudly. You know it’s because you both are drunk, but you’ve never been able to resist it when he talks dirty to you. And now his hand starts squeezing your thigh, so you’re left wondering what it would feel like if his face was under your sk-

“Oh for fucks sake! I know it’s Wonwoo and Y/N with all this whispering, I’m sitting next to y’all, guys!” Aeri whines from next to you, and the moment is broken. Everyone opens their eyes and Wonwoo’s hand stop squeezing, although it’s still on your thigh. “If you’re going to undress each other, just go home!” Chan says, and you laugh. “I’m not leaving the party even if Wonwoo does, just so you know. I’m having way too much fun.” Aeri and Hayi hug you from one end, pulling you away from Wonwoo. “Yes,” says Hayi, “we’re not letting you go either. Boring mafia men can leave if they like.” So they pull you away from Wonwoo and you end up sitting somewhere far away from him, between Joshua and Minghao, and it’s nice to be around people who aren’t game aces either and you can have a lot more fun because they’re not as serious as Wonwoo.

A few seconds later, your phone buzzes in your pocket, so you take it out. There’s a text from Wonwoo.

I wasn’t kidding, Y/N. I really want to get out of here with you.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve bid the last round of goodbyes, hugging Jeonghan and exchanging numbers with most of them, while they whine about why Wonwoo gatekept you for so long. Even Seungcheol and Mingyu joke around you, showing that they’ve become more comfortable around you. Perhaps growing up has taken away some of their jerk attitude from them.

Wonwoo’s already leaning against his car when you walk out of the house. You know he’s drunk with the way his eyes check you out without any filter, and you’re also drunk and out of your inhibitions. You try not to get into your head as he opens the door for you, and you get inside the warm car. Wonwoo joins you in the backseat, and the chauffeur drives you out slowly.

But somehow, being in the car now, away from the dopamine of the party, and the general excitement from having a surprisingly fun evening with strangers, the overthinking does kick in. Wonwoo doesn’t say a word, but his hand has returned on your thigh, and you let it be there. But you can’t help but think, is he finding you attractive only because he’s under the influence?

So you ask him that, when you both get out of the car and he opens the door to the apartment. Drunk, dishevelled Wonwoo looks glorious in the night light, his dark hair falling over his eyes, which are hooded in desire as plain as day. “Are you fucking serious, woman?” That’s all he says, before he pushes you against the back of the same entry door, and puts his hand under your skirt. He finds you panties as an obstruction so he pushes them aside before kissing you and entering one finger inside your cunt simultaneously. You immediately melt under his touch, not just because it’s been months since Wonwoo’s touched you, but also because you’re feeling so relieved he’s still attracted to you. At least the farce hasn’t repelled him away this far.

So you don’t speak any words. You both stay silent except the sounds he forces out of you. You come embarrassingly fast with just two fingers up your vagina, and his mouth creating hickeys all over your neck. “Fuck, Wonwoo, I-” “Shit you’re still coming- your whore pussy’s thanking Sir for taking care of her after so long?” You moan his name harder, your entire body writhing under his touch as he drags out your climax under his touch. “Yes, Sir.” “And what to good girls say in gratitude?” You can barely form the words but you say it, “Thank- thank you, Sir!”

“Where do you wanna take it, hmm? To my bedroom which you’ve taken over? Or my bedroom where you’ve exiled me to?” He picks you up and shrugs off your coat, and you wrap your legs around him, stretching the skirt. “It doesn’t matter.”

So he takes you to the bedroom where he’s sleeping these days. He flunks you on the bed, and you tumble to fall on your face. The sheets smell like him, and you breathe in his scent. You don’t want to sleep anywhere else after this- only next to him, if this is what his bed smells like.

He leans in from behind you, and unhooks your top and skirt, leaving you in your underwear. Your panties are ruined, so he makes quick work of removing them. But he keeps the bra on, and gently slides in under you until your pussy is on his face as he prepares to eat you out from behind. His hands are splayed over your ass, and as soon as his tongue makes contact with your already abused vagina, you scream out his name. But he doesn’t stop- he continues, his tongue harshly fucking your cunt. When he’s done making you orgasm again like that, and you’re done screaming his name into his pillow, he finally moves away from you. You fall limp on the bed, as you hear him take off his clothes. Eventually he cages you from behind, and slowly fills you up from behind, one hand on your neck and the other rubbing your nipple over your bra.

So he fucks you like that, his cold chain makes sparks every time it brushes against your spine. “Sir, please! Faster, please-” Wonwoo doesn’t reply to any of your begging, but he responds physically to everything you say, by doing the exact opposite and dragging out your misery. His hands don’t leave your nipples as he leisurely fucks you. “Fuck, Y/N, not even four months, and you’re tight like a virgin again.” Your hands slip and weakly try to clutch at the bedsheets, but you feel useless, like a toy, and he feels every inch of skin which he’s missed out on all this time. You don’t know what he’s looking like now, but his hand presses your head down on the pillow softly, and his grunts and moans are soft enough to be enveloped by your own louder moans and pants.

“Please, I’m begging you, please- pl- faster- Sir!” And the second he lifts his body away from yours, thrusting into you faster, you spasm and orgasm right there, and it triggers his orgasm too. The warmth of his cum flowing inside you stays there as he gently falls down on your body, panting. When he begins to pull out, you whine, unable to say anything but he gets the message. He lies down next to you softly, without pulling out for a few minutes. When your body finally comes down from the high, you go limp around his body, and Wonwoo gently pulls out.

“I’ll clean you up.” “I’m sleepy…” “Yeah, then sleep.” And then you pass out.

When you wake up the next morning, Wonwoo is, unsurprisingly, not next to you, although his side of the bed is not cold. It feels like an upgrade, and you take what you can get. For the first time since you’ve gotten married, you’ve slept together and the thought of it makes you pleased for some reason.

“Morning,” he walks in, before you can properly wake up. He’s wearing a peach-coloured hoodie with sweatpants, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Is that for me?” “No, I didn’t know if you were up.” “Okay, I’ll go and get my own.”

So you do. You brush your teeth and make your coffee and return to the bedroom, and Wonwoo’s still sitting there, his back leaning against the headboard. For a second, you feel like you’re stepping into someone else’s married life, but then you realise it’s yours. It makes you giddy. You don’t understand why- it’s not like you’ve ever craved for Wonwoo, or anyone, in this way. But somehow, you’ve warmed up well to the idea of having him as your … partner. There’s nobody who could be an equal match to you, to be honest. Either they’d be seriously less intelligent and you would be able to hold no conversation with them, or they’d be arrogant as fuck if they were smarter than you, and they’d make it a point to make you feel lesser, always. So Wonwoo is the perfect match for you.

Although, Wonwoo could surely find someone better. Jeonghan’s words float in your brain once again, and you fight the urge to contradict him. Mrs Jeon could definitely be someone else- someone who’s less distant from Wonwoo, someone he could love truly deeper than just skin-level attraction, someone who would want to be with him for real feelings and not just a facade.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about, Wonwoo.”

“Yeah, me too.” You both sit against the headboard, bodies far apart, as if repelled again by magnetic force, no matter how close you were last night.

“Okay, you go first then.”

So he says, “Last night was… a mistake. I know it sounds cliche, but it’s true. I don’t… want to do this with you.”

Oh fuck. You did not see that coming. Sure, the relationship could have been a mistake. Getting married without him getting anything out of it could have been a mistake. Continuing this marriage after your dad’s treatment was successful could have been a mistake. But last night? Last night had felt so right to you. There was no one who knew your body like Wonwoo did, and you knew it went the other way round too. Then how could he say that?

He continues, “I don’t want to be fuckbuddies with you like this, Y/N. We got married for a goal, and now that goal’s been fulfilled and…”

“And you want a divorce. I get it.”

He looks at you with confusion, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed. “No, that’s not what I said.”

“That’s what you meant. I’m an adult, Wonwoo, don’t teach me nuances.” You get off the bed and walk away.

“Y/N, you’ve got to hear me out when I’m saying something.”

“Wonwoo, I already know what you’re trying to say.”

“Fuck you, Y/N. This is why it’s not possible to have a proper conversation with you.”

“You’ll get what you want, Wonwoo. Don’t worry. Thanks for telling me, I needed to know.”

It feels good to get back to work after so long. The familiar sound of people typing away on their laptops and the busy movement of people everywhere, it brings peace to your heart. There are people hovering around you, hoping to speak to you, but Jisung somehow brings you to your office without you having to say anything more than good morning and happy new year to anyone.

It’s only when you enter the office and you see the pending paperwork that you realise just how much you’ve missed. There’s a deal with Lee Corp. that’s sitting on your desk, and Jisung presents it to you with a proud smile. “We got it done, Ma’am. Every detail you wanted, to the t.” You don’t know how to respond, because it’s unbelievable. “But how?” This is your dream- signing a contract with Lee Corp., the leading organisation for facilitating stools for robotic surgery in Korea. Although your technology has always been more modern, they’ve retained their large market share because of simply how long they’ve sustained in the business- after all, when it comes to health, trust comes before modernity for customers.

“Jeon Wonwoo-ssi set up the deal for us. The Deputy CEO and myself attended the meeting, I can share the minutes with-”

“Wait, stop. Wonwoo, you said?”

“Yes Ma’am, I… did he not tell you? He told me he’d tell you.” Jisung looks genuinely confused, so you know it’s futile to investigate him further.

“Well, as you can see, it’s news to me.”

“There is a meeting today, at noon, Ma’am, I need to brief you about the details before you-”

“I’ll get the details directly from Wonwoo, thanks Jisung. Ask my chauffeur to get my car ready please. I’ll be back before the meeting.”

Wonwoo’s office building is bustling with the same energy as your own, and you face no trouble finding his office. So you walk right in.

“What’s this I’m hearing?” He’s standing next to a shorter man showing him something on a tablet, but he immediately leaves when he sees you, bowing quickly. “I was busy, Y/N, you can’t just walk in like that as if you own the place.” He walks up to you, and gently closes the door, before leaning against it and asking you, in that fucking relaxed expression he always has, “What’s the matter?”

“You fixed a deal with Lee Corp. for my company?”

“What about it?”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I thought it was best not to disturb you when you were busy with your father.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Wonwoo, this is literally the most important event that can turn my career around forever, and you choose not to tell me-”

“So you’d rather I invade your privacy for this? I’d arranged it so that it would be closed only after your return anyway, so it’s not like-”

“It’s exactly like you were making deals behind my back! God knows what subscript you’ve mentioned in the clauses with the Lees- yeah, step one: get into a trusting contract with Y/N, step two: slowly overtake all her market power, step three: make the company so weak that Jeon Estates can easily take over.”

You’ve taken a step closer with every word, and now you’re standing at a hair’s distance from Wonwoo, who’s just staring at you. “For god’s sake, Jeon Wonwoo, say something!”

And then, he fucking laughs. It’s a bitter laugh, one with no mirth, and it makes goosebumps rise on your flesh.

“You’re mad, Y/N. You’re paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch, and I can’t even be mad at you because I knew this is how you’ve been all along and yet, I can’t fucking stop myself from falling in love with you every damn day!”

It’s your turn to go speechless. The documents in your hands fall limply to the floor, as your jaw opens and you stay rooted in one spot, stunned beyond belief. “You… what?”

“You were so fucking right every time you called me a dumbass, Y/N. Because I am one.” He laughs again, taking off his glasses with one hand, and rubbing his eyes with another. Then he stops laughing and when he wears his glasses again, his face looks twenty years older.

“Wonwoo… I’m not understanding.”

“You will never understand. Because you don’t have a fucking heart. One would think I have a masochism kink- the way you kick me out every day and I come back to you like a dog. Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to take over your company? I’ve told you before- I have enough ways and means to bring you down already had I really wanted to. For fucks’ sake, it’d take a minute for me to destroy your reputation by spreading a rumour about how you wanted to bang me just because you thought it was a great way to get your dad to get into treatment.”

“You still could-”

“I’ve never taken advantage of you- never. I’ve respected you, with as much as I could. When you’ve been petty, when you’ve been oversmart, when you’ve been angry. And you think I’m really interested in destroying you? No, Y/N, if there’s anything I feel towards you and your professional career, it’s admiration. And respect.”

“Don’t lie to my face, Jeon.”

He laughs again, and kneels down so that he’s looking away from you, down at the floor, his body no longer held up in his usual manly stature.

“I’m so tired of running around and playing these games with you, Y/N. I’ve admired you since you’d been promoted two classes at once in ninth grade.”

“That is a lie. You’d gone right after that class to bitch about me, very loudly, to your friends, about how I’d been promoted only because my dad’s business was flourishing.”

“It was a front, because all of my friends, and mind you, I don’t mean Mingyu and Seungcheol, had become pissed at you for it. I had to… I don’t know… be popular? I couldn’t be any more of a loser than I already was. I’d lost a year as it is for breaking my leg and not being able to attend classes, and then… owning up that your intelligence and intellect amazed me and got me on my fucking knees would mean I’d no longer be the cool boy in class who everybody wanted to be with.”

You kneel down next to him, imploring him to look into your eyes. But he steadfastly avoids eye contact- and you feel the floor slip away from your feet. Things you’d believed for years… hearing them become untrue… hearing them being simple misunderstandings… it was too frightening and too overwhelming to be believable.

“But there’s not been a moment these last dozen years when I’ve not had my heart beat fast whenever I think about you… see you. I’d accepted your harsh words and your cold attitude as the norm because… I knew it was because I’d not behaved very nicely with you either, and I was to be blamed for it after all. But I took what I could get. A beggar cannot be a chooser, you know?”

And he finally looks at you.

And finally you can read Jeon Wonwoo. Every expression is as clear as day on his face. His eyes clouded with betrayal and pain, his lips twitching, seconds away from breaking down, his hands pale and trembling. You want to walk away, be a coward again, run away and escape to your bubble of yourself and only yourself. But you also want to take his hand, and feel the truth he’s speaking coursing through his veins buzz out into your own skin.

So you do that.

For once in twenty six years, you do the brave thing.

You sit down completely on the floor, and you lean forward to face him, and touch the tips of his fingers. You’re surrounded by the flurry of papers you’d brought to him, but in this moment, when the current of his touch matches the voltage running in your mind, you forget what they were. He looks away, and says, “Everything about you was so electrifying. You were the first woman who had never pedestalized me for my money and my position in society. The first woman who’d made me feel like just another human being. The first woman who I’d been unable to seduce with just a casual look. The first woman who threw a challenge at me with not just her attitude but also her smartness. And boy, you know how competitive I can be.”

“I was okay with being fuckbuddies too, you know. This way, I didn’t have to pine over you from a corner of the room at social gatherings and wonder how you smelt. I didn’t have to look at you from the other side of the cafeteria at school and imagine how it would feel to kiss the cream off the corner of your lips. And I fucking loved it. I loved being able to hold you close, make you mine. I- well… the first night you’d hooked up with me? If you’d not come back to me yourself, I would have begged you and confessed that very night. I would have cried at your feet to let me be your lover.”

There’s a single tear falling off his cheek and onto the point where your fingers touch. He doesn’t look at you. The sky outside darkens with the impending rain, making the room infinitely darker than it was earlier.

“And then… when you’d asked me to stop… the world had broken down on me. I’d given up on making you want to like me- but,” and he laughs again, that broken, mirthless laugh, “a man can dream, can he not?”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry.” you whisper. You know it’s pointless, but you still want to say it.

“For what Y/N? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve just shown me my place.”

“For hurting you. I didn’t know…”

“No you… you didn’t even know you were hurting me. You were just being you.”

“And it’s sick that I hurt you so much when I was just being myself.”

There’s a long minute of silence, as he looks up at you. Lightning cracks on the horizon outside, your body shivering with the sudden sound of thunder, and his hands withdraw from your own.

“Y/N, I don’t want to interfere in your life any longer. I’ve lived happily this last year, being so close to you, even when I knew it wasn’t in the way I wanted. But last night…”

“Wonwoo. I-”

“It was a mistake because I can’t do this so casually anymore, Y/N. I don’t want to wake up next to you just like that, Y/N. I don’t want to be married to you on paper, Y/N. I don’t want to pretend in front of my friends and not make you mine in public. Seungcheol and Mingyu accepted you fully… because they knew just how smitten I’ve been with you forever.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a lopsided, winsome smile, as he continues, “That day in the amusement park? You’d been so mad at me for no fault of mine at all, but you’d been so cute when you’d lolled all over my shoulder and clutched onto my clothes for your dear life. That time you’d made your first speech as your father’s heir to the company, I swear I could’ve run to you and kissed you right there, you’d been so hot up on stage, in the spotlight, right where you belong.”

He starts standing up, looking away from you. He begins picking up the first paper next to him.

“Oh, you bought the divorce papers.”

You spring up to attention at once, and snatch it away from him. “Wonwoo, I-”

“No, thanks for bringing them. Thank you for putting me out of my misery of this awful mirage called hope.”

“No, please, I-”

“I see you’ve already signed-”

“Wonwoo! Just please listen to me?”

He finally pauses in his tracks and looks at you. “You’ve said enough, Y/N-ah. You’ll get the divorce you so want. And if you like, I’ll ask Jihoon to put in a word to take away the deal as well. If you feel so threatened-”

“Wonwoo, hold up. Jihoon?”

“Yeah? You didn’t know? His cousin is the CEO of Lee Corp. currently.”

He picks up a pen to sign, and you literally lunge yourself on his body. It’s cinematic, a little unreal, but you do it out of desperation. It results in you being draped all over his body, as he falls back on his desk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up. Let me talk,” and you clamp a hand on his mouth before he can say another word. You take a deep breath, as his eyes widen for a second, but then he stabilises himself on his desk and waits for you to continue.

“I’ll admit it, I’ve been an awful person. I’ve been mean, selfish, and paranoid- and yes, while I may have been justified to some extent, I … should’ve trusted you. It’s absurd though- had I not trusted you at all, how could I ever submit to you even in sex? How could I trust you with my body at my weakest, most out-of-control moments? Perhaps, deep down, I knew that, no matter how much we sparred with our words and our eyes, we… you would never harm me. And I think you know I wouldn’t have harmed you either, really. Because you’ve been nothing if not my twin spirit. You’ve been the only person competitive enough to challenge me. You’ve been the only man who hasn’t given me up even when I threw tantrums. And I want to stop talking in the past tense. Even in the future, I see… I see you as the only man who’d ever really understand me. If I tell you I need a week to just cut off from the world and focus on my work, you’d understand me. If I tell you, Wonwoo, I… well fuck it, I didn’t even need to tell you that I don’t like being lonely every New Years’ Eve, did I? You agreed to be my ally when our families turned against us. You agreed to be my husband when I hadn’t even asked you about it. You’ve… you’ve shown me that a world beyond me exists, you’ve shown me that I’m not the only person in this world I can care about, and you’ve shown me that you don’t need to be loud and obvious when you want to do things for others. And I haven’t even shown gratitude for it. So you’re right when you call me a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch.” He shakes his head, but you only laugh a little. “No you’re right. You are. Wonwoo, I… these last few weeks. When I was away, with my dad? I didn’t think it was love but… I did think it was longing. I didn’t even know when I’d gotten used to not living alone at home. I didn’t even know when I’d developed the habit of waiting till 10 pm to see you enter the house after working out, sweaty and your muscles bulging. I’d told you I had become dependent on you as a way to relieve my stress? Well, turns out now I’ve become dependent on you for attention, for affection, for a way to cure my loneliness. I am a paranoid, stupid, ungrateful, selfish little bitch because I’ve been so lonely for years. Apart from my parents and my sister, I… I’ve never had anyone else. And I thought it was a strength of mine … until I grew up and realised just how lonely I had become. And then… I found you, I guess? Even when we just had sex, it was better than spending all those nights alone, drinking on my own. Even when you’d tie me up to your bedpost for hours on that stupid yellow vibrator of yours, it was more intimate than anything else, and simply because… you even read my face and understood when I was reaching my boundaries. And I’m having all these epiphanies right now, and I feel like a fool for priding myself on my smartness, because truly, what have I gained if I’ve lost you?”

And then, he wrings his hands free and leans over you, and kisses you. Kisses you with his mouth open, his eyes on yours as he gauges your expressions turn from surprise, to wonder, to thrill. When he’s finally kissed you out of breath, you pull away from him to breathe in and feel alive again, only to find that the roles have switched and he’s got you pinned against his desk now.

“Baby, if only… if only I’d known, that your pretty mind was having so many epiphanies, I’d have not left you on the bed alone in the morning. Tell me you don’t really want the divorce, tell me what you said right now was not a joke?”

“It’s not… I don’t want a divorce, please Wonwoo. I had only got them prepared because I thought you’d want them- but…”

“Well, I deserve to be treated like a shithead for not making you feel just how badly I want to hold on to this marriage. Because even if it is fake…”

“Wonwoo, shh… it’s not fake if I love you, right?” You say, experimentally, hoping you’re doing the right thing now by being brave, and when he doesn’t reply for a second, your brain goes on a spiral again, but then he must know it because he kisses you again. “Say that again, princess.” So you do. He asks you three more times, and each time, he punctuates his sentences with kisses on your face, and you blush harder each time you admit that yes, you have fallen in love with Jeon Wonwoo. The last person you’d expect to fall for… but it’s true, and it’s real, and it’s warm and novel with how it’s coursing through your veins.

“I love you too, Y/N, if you’ll really have me.” So you kiss him back, your tongues lazily sliding against each other, the sensation making you numb. It feels good to kiss Wonwoo, but it feels even better to kiss your lover Wonwoo, you realise, and you go back for a million more kisses, before the grandfather’s clock in his room rings out and reminds you that it is noon.

“Wonwoo… Fuck! I’d forgotten,” you whisper as he kisses you down your neck, lavishing every inch of your skin. “The meeting with the Lees!” “Oh.” He looks up at you. “I’ll call Jihoon and ask him to reschedule. Can’t let work get in the way of pleasure, right now, Mrs. Jeon. Not when I can finally make love to you like you’re mine.” You giggle at his words, unimaginably corny. But you can’t deny how good it makes you feel. “Wait, who said I’m yours?” “Fuck, don’t mess with me, woman. You- you just said!” “I am, relax! It’s a joke, Mr. Jeon. I see your cheesiness has changed now… but your sense of humour is just as poor as before.” He snarls against your lips, although it’s sexy in a way. “I’ll not let you go for comments like that, you know?”

So he doesn’t. He calls Jihoon and reschedules the meeting, and then he drives you home, in his car. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, his hand wrapped in yours, as he pauses at every red light to kiss you. “I still can't believe it.” “You’ve got me here, Jeon. I’m not going away.” You can see the way his hands tremble, but you hold on tight. You’re telling him as much as you’re telling yourself, you’re never going away.

It’s still raining outside, but he covers your head with his blazer as he picks you up and carries you all the way upstairs to his apartment, doesn’t even lower you in the elevator. Thankfully there’s only an ahjumma inside the elevator, who doesn’t seem to mind, only giggles when you apologise. “It’s okay. I know how lovesick men can be,” she says, before she gets down at her designated floor.

And then he doesn’t stop kissing you. He doesn’t leave your mouth even when the elevator door opens and you both walk out into your apartment. He doesn’t leave your mouth when you shrug off your heels and he takes off his own shoes. He doesn’t leave your mouth when he directly takes you all the way to the master bedroom, and just plops you down on the bed, you nearly springing up with the impact.

“Wonwoo?” You ask when he turns away and walks into the closet, only to return with a box that’s too familiar to you. It has all your toys in it. “Do you know, Mrs. Jeon, just how cruel you’ve been by forcing me to see these every time I open the drawer to take out my underwear? He opens it slowly, showing you the three dildos inside, and the bullet vibrator Wonwoo himself had bought for you. “Every time I see them, it feels like you’re cheating on me, because fuck, how can anything give you pleasure when I literally exist?” His words are cheesy again, but in that dirty way which is so on brand for him. You’re leaking under the suit pants already, you know that.

“Wonwoo… I… you know I don’t use them when you’re around.”

“And you shouldn’t have to use them ever. Not when I’m here to fuck you good like you deserve, like the cumslut you are, hmm?” He presses a finger under your chin, taking in a good look at you from above, before he orders, “Strip.”

So you do. He takes his sweet time watching you strip, while taking out one dildo from your box and his favourite ties. When you’re down to your underwear, he pauses you and extends a hand waiting for something. You know what’s coming, so you just extend your hands to him and let him tie you up. He smirks at your gesture, so he ties you up the poles of the bed. He also uses another tie to wrap around your eyes, and then he gently peels off your panties. “God, fuck. You smell heavenly.” Did he just sniff your underwear? “Wonwoo! Don’t!” There’s a sharp spank on your pussy, exposed to him in its wet glory, and you crumble instantly. “Little baby girls don’t tell Sir what to do and what not to do, hmm? They just take it as they’re given.” So he spanks you again, and it sends shivers through your body. Just the thought of fucking in the broad daylight seems like a sin, but then… isn’t this what married couples do?

You realise that Wonwoo’s seated himself next to you, and he’s gently taken your head into his lap. His hand is already playing with your clit, and you feel something cold and liquidy being rubbed over your pussy flesh. Lube? He’s still fully dressed, and you can feel the cold metal of his watch graze against your sensitive thigh, making you hiss in pleasure.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been taught a lesson, darling. Seems like getting married has made you feel like you’re beyond Sir’s control. But that’s not how it goes, is it?” You whisper out, “No… No Sir.” “Good girl. If you want to be treated like you’re married, then you’ve gotta earn it, yes? Now. Can you take one finger?” He inserts his finger gently, which is coated in the cold substance you’re assuming is lube. It isn’t really necessary, given how wet you are already, but it feels hotter when the lube is so cold inside you.

You nod. “Words.” “Yes, I can.” So he slowly pumps it in, before saying, “Can you take two fingers?” You whimper as he stretches you by putting in two fingers. “Yes Sir.” “That’s a good girl.” The praise is making your head spin.

“And can you take-” he puts in another damn finger, “three fingers?” Now it’s a real burn. It’s in till his knuckles all too quickly but you can’t say no because you want to please. “Quick, princess. Don’t keep me waiting. Yes or n-” “Yes! I can. I will. I’m a good girl, Sir?” He pumps all three fingers deep until it hits your spot, and you scream out his name. “Such a good girl. Now fuck yourself on those fingers thinking that’s Sir’s cock.”

You push up your hips, and he thrusts in, meeting your halfway. And then he sets the pace, as he fucks into you relentlessly, his other hand gently wrapping around your jaw and you take out your tongue, almost drooling, until he puts a finger inside your mouth too. You just know he’s smirking right now, with you being desperate for something in your mouth too, but you can’t care less.

Your orgasm hits you as soon as he orders gently, “Cum for me, pretty baby.” But when you come down from your high, he doesn’t take his fingers out. He gently pumps in your cum into your system again, and you writhe with sensitivity. But he uses his other hand to stop you, as he takes it out of your mouth. “Now, can you take a dildo along with these fingers?” You gasp, because it’s not imaginable. “No, I… it’s too much, Sir.” “Is it? I don’t think it’s bigger than your husband’s dick, is it?” And fuck, you can’t stop yourself from clenching at that. It’s crazy how hot he makes it sound, but it feels amazing when he calls himself your husband. And he must feel your cunt clenching around his fingers as well, because he whispers near your ear, “Oh Mrs Jeon likes that, huh? Too bad she can’t take her husband’s cock then, because it’s too much-” “No I can take it! I can- I can fit in my husband’s cock.” You can hear the way Wonwoo grunts, as he plunges his fingers deeper into your cunt. “But first, I’ve got to train you, yes? You’ve become too unruly. You want to be the perfect wife, don’t you?” “Fuck!” you can’t form words as you clench around his fingers hopelessly, overstimulation forgotten, and buck up your hips to help him reach your spot. He just laughs and begins fucking you again, all three of his thick fingers snugly fit inside you till the knuckles.

“Can you feel my wedding ring inside, baby?” He whispers again, and you cry out his name continuously as he drives you to a new high, so familiar, and yet so new. He’s your husband now, fuck. It’s a revelation that hits harder in the middle of sex, and you come instantly, coating his fingers with your essence.

“Oh, my cockslut’s eager to please her husband, is she? So eager to be the perfect wife, is she?”

“Yes, yes! Please- pl- I just want-”

“Want?”

“Please fuck me Wonwoo!”

He immediately removes his fingers from your pussy and you scream out as you feel empty. “Aaah! Please!”

“I’m not making any girl who’s forgotten rules in the bedroom, feel good.” He takes off the tie that was wrapped around your eyes, and you notice that he’s not leaning down at you, his glasses still on, but his eyes dark with hunger. God, he’s hot.

“I’m sorry Sir.”

There’s a sharp spank to your clit, and you jump. It’s too much, but in the best way possible.

“I’ll ask you again. Can you take three fingers and one of those dildos you love so much that you torture your husband with its sight every day?” He doesn’t break eye contact, and you whimper in front of him, pathetic and desperate.

“Yes, Sir. I can.”

“Open your mouth.”

Wordlessly, you do, and he spits into your mouth. Then he puts in the dildo. As you see the purple dildo, which is considerably slimmer than Wonwoo’s dick, but about the same length, enter your pussy, you notice how much Wonwoo’s gaze has hardened. Is he really jealous of that damn toy? It’s funny, so you buck your hips up to meet the way he’s slowly fucking you with the plastic dildo, and his eyes become more dangerous.

“Are you that desperate for it, darling?”

“I want to feel full, Sir.”

And then something in Wonwoo snaps. He wraps three fingers around the head of the dildo and along with the fingers, he plunges the dildo into you, stretching you out much more than before. The burn eases out after a second, but he fucks you at an incredibly slow pace, which only makes you eager for more. “Faster, please!” “You want me to fuck you with this plastic toy how I fuck you with my cock?” “Yes! I d- I do! I just want to feel full!” Then his other hand finds its way to your tits and twists a nipple hard enough to make it painful. “You’re such a whore, Y/N. Just a pretty whore. You’d take any cock just to keep your holes filled?” “No! I … I only like it when Sir does it for me.” “Liar. Just now you’re so happy to take this dildo, huh?” You can’t even think straight with the pace he’s torturing you at, but you do reply, “That’s- aah! Only- only because Sir’s fucking me with it. Because I can feel your wedding ring inside me, Sir!”

“Fuck!” There’s another sharp pinch at your nipple before Wonwoo begins fucking you faster, and it only takes you a minute before he’s bringing you to yet another high which leaves you dizzy.

“God, you’re left speechless. Does Mr Jeon fuck you that good?” He leans it to kiss you, his wet fingers now wrapped around your breasts. You can feel the way your cum still sticks on his fingers, but it feels too good to be gross. You kiss him back, arching your back off the bed, until he pulls away.

He stands up from the bed, and languidly takes off his clothes. “So pretty like this, princess. Legs all spread out for who?”

“You, Wonwoo. My husband.”

He stops his movements and stares at you for a second. It seems like calling him husband has the same effect on him as the effect on you when he calls you wife. “Yes, you’re right. Your husband.” He sits next to you to kiss you again and this time, you try to sit upright, in spite of your hands still being tied. When he breaks off, he says, “So let me train you to be my wife, hmm? I want to fuck you so good that your pussy shapes itself around me. That you won’t even need prep when I want to fuck you because it’ll be so used to me.” Oh, no wonder for that size training. “Why? Does your cock get bigger now that you’re my husband?” He smirks, eyes cruel because you’re talking back to him. “No, because I need to fit in perfectly to ensure none of my seed leaves you when I’m breeding you.” And then he attacks your neck, and you’re moaning even before his lips hit skin because his words flip some switches in you that you’ve never even known. Sure, Wonwoo’s always fucked you raw because you’ve been on pills for years, but the idea of him breeding a child into you? Fuck. You’d never even thought about having a child, but this idea turns you on remarkably insanely.

Soon his shirt is off and he unties your hands. “Take off my pants for me, baby.” And you do. You tease him a bit, but that’s only fair with how hard he’s sucking your breasts, as if he’s born to do this. Before taking off his boxers, you notice the precum that’s leaking out so much that it’s made the fabric quite wet. So you lick his dick clean while it’s still inside his boxers, and you’ve got him hissing and grunting like never before. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t,” he pulls your head away. “Why?” He must notice the way his precum is still sticking on your lips, because he groans again. “I want to cum inside you. Breed you full, baby.” That puts a shy smile on your face as he takes off his underwear, and you finally see his cock upright, leaking and bright red. And perhaps you’re delusional after all those orgasms, but it does seem bigger than before.

“Please, Mr Jeon, take me.” And he responds to your begging. He kisses you softly, as he lines himself up with you, his left hand still pulling your hands up above your head, and your right hand clutching your hips in an iron grip that will leave marks. And then he just enters, without warning, till the hilt, and you both moan out at the sensation. You don’t know why it feels different, but with how he’s kissing you, almost softly and gently, like he’s a gentleman, while fucking you ruthlessly like he’s in rut, you’re in heaven for sure.

It’s also the first time Wonwoo is so audible during sex. He’s panting and moaning, although much softer than you, but his sounds spur you on even harder. He can’t stop whispering your name and other pet names in your ears, while you keep moaning his name loud even to burst his eardrums. He doesn’t care. He responds to every word you utter, every little request you beg, and he fucks you fast and hard, until he can’t hold on any further and his entire body is trembling with the incoming orgasm. “Mrs Jeon, can you cum with me?” “Yes, please, Sir.” And so you do, releasing into each other while still making out with each other. It feels like you’ve entered a different dimension of pleasure, and Wonwoo is here with you. It’s a safe feeling beyond description, and you pass out right there.

When you do wake up, you find Wonwoo sitting next to you with a cloth in his hands, wiping gently at your legs.

“How long have I been out?”

“About ten minutes?”

He doesn’t answer smoothly. You can see the way his hands move softly, almost worshipping.

“I love you, Wonwoo.”

Then he looks up at you, and you see the way his eyes are quivering.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “No, tell me.” “Nothing just-” You sit up, and take his hands in your own. Then you nod at him, gently urging him on.

“Was it too much?”

“Huh?”

“Did I push you too much?”

“No. I would’ve used my safeword if you did.”

“But what if you forgot the safeword in the middle of it all- what if you got too pushed by me-”

“I wasn’t, and that’s what matters. I remember it all the time, Wonwoo, you… the traffic lights aren’t really easy to forget. I would tap out somehow if I felt like too much. But it wasn’t, so where’s this coming from?”

“Nothing… I… I hope you’re not just taking it from me because I’m your husband now.”

And at that, you laugh. “Hell, nah, Wonwoo. You know I wouldn’t take it from you even if you were god. You’ve really got me all wrong, then.”

He smiles weakly, and you know it’s still on his mind. So you move over to sit gently on his lap. “Wonwoo, when I said earlier that you know my limits. I wasn’t lying, you know. You do. You don’t push me too much.”

“But if I ever do-”

“If you ever do, you should know that I’ll tap out at once and never forgive you. You always make me feel safe, Wonwoo.” And you hug him, and the fact that you’re both naked makes your hug even warmer and softer as you feel Wonwoo’s hands wrap around your back as well.

“I love you too, Y/N. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” And then he kisses your forehead, and you snuggle your face right into the crook of his neck. He smells… like Wonwoo, and it feels like home.

“Now, how about some lunch, baby?”

“You’re hungry when I had to do all the work?” You gasp while still tucked into his neck, and he giggles with the way your breath tickles his neck.

“So what does my pretty wife want?”

“She just wants to cuddle you and sleep.”

“And my wife’s wishes are my commands.”

So he lays down, with you still on top of him like a koala, and pulls the blankets over you both, wrapping you into one tiny ball. You look at him with a fond smile, and you see your expression mirrored in his. “I love you so much, Y/N-ah.”

“And I love you, Wonwoo. I could love nobody else apart from you.”

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kotoku · 10 months ago

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can i request an aventurine x stoneheart!reader whose cornerstone is citrine? lets say the both of them are close friends and one day in a meeting with the ipc one of the workers try to persuade you (citrine), to go to a date… aventurine sees this and gets jealous … then i’ll leave this to your imagination, i wanna see how creative you are!!! love your writings btw ❤️❤️

ᴘᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰᴜᴛɪʟᴇ

synopsis - You and Aventurine are close friends and have been working together for a long while from the ground up. Though Aventurine had refused to believe that he had developed feelings for you, he eventually accepted them within time but never took the first step. Your friendship was something that he could not gamble with after all. But when a persistent subordinate makes his attempt at courting you, he can't help but feel that ugly twist of jealousy in his stomach. He had to get to you first.

pairings - aventurine x stoneheart! reader

content - pining, drunk! aventurine, drunken confessions, jealous! aventurine, citrine! reader, reader is done with the subordinates shit

warnings - alcohol, a couple cuss words, mentions of vomiting

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

“You know… A girl like you and a guy like me would make a great pair, don’t you think?”

Your eye twitched in irritation, the polite smile you tried so hard to keep on your face faltering with each sentence this guy was spouting. The guy in question? Just a random subordinate who was flying a little too close to the sun.

Diamond had requested a meeting amongst the Ten Stonehearts, so you were only making your wave over to the meeting room before being stopped by someone calling out your name. Thus putting you in the position you were currently in.

“Er… I- sorry, I have urgent matters to attend to. If you could excuse me…” You tried stepping around the man but he reached out towards your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey hey, what could be so important that you’d have to skip out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The man smugly smirked, a shiver of disgust running down your spine.

“You must not be aware of who I am.” You yanked your wrist back from his hold. “If you’d like to maintain your position here, I’d suggest you scram and get back to work.” You dropped the polite attitude, not tolerating his persistent behavior in trying to score a date with you. You didn’t have time for this nonsense.

“Huh?? B–” Before he could utter another word, you had already resumed walking in the direction of the meeting room. Thankfully, the man made no attempt at following you so you allowed yourself to relax a bit, shoulders falling.

“You handled that pretty well, Citrine.” A smooth voice spoke, your head turning to face the source.

“Ah Aventurine, you saw all that?” You sighed, combing a hand through your hair.

“Mmm, hard to miss when it’s happening out in the open. In the middle of the hallway, no less.” He chuckled, matching your pace as the two of you walked towards the meeting. “You should’ve seen the guy's face, he was absolutely dumbfounded.” You laughed at that, imagining the weirdo’s expression.

“Good, he needed a reality check.”

You both laughed.

It wasn’t long before the both of you reached the designated meeting area, confirming your identities before stepping inside. Most of the Stonehearts were already in their seats, waiting on those who were making their way over. Immediately, you saw Topaz talking with Jade, seemingly discussing business matters as they both held serious expressions. You and Aventurine had started walking towards them, both of them noticing your presence and giving you a small greeting.

“Citrine! How have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately.” Topaz smiled, concluding the conversation she was having with Jade.

“Mm, could be better. The last assignment I received was a lot harder than expected,” You answered, taking a seat next to her. “What about you? I heard about what happened on Jarilo-VI.”

At the mention of her previous assignment, she grimaced with a frown replacing her smile. “Ah… We don’t talk about that… Other than my demotion, I’ve been doing fine. There was a new game that came out recently so I’ve been playing it since.” You hummed, crossing your arms over the table.

“Aetherium Wars? I keep hearing all my subordinates talking about it.” Aventurine spoke, mimicking your actions. “Speaking of subordinates, I’m sure Citrine has an interesting story to tell you both.” He poked your shoulder with his finger, a sly smile on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you recounted the earlier event to Jade and Topaz, the four of you gossiping about that specific worker.

“Oh, him? I’ve been hearing a lot about him from some of my female subordinates.” Jade rested her head on the palm of her hand. “Apparently he’s been trying to coax women into sleeping with him. Management isn’t able to do anything about him as these are only rumors.” She sighed disappointedly, “It’s best you avoid him, Citrine and Topaz.”

You made a mental note of Jade’s words, Diamond’s authoritative tone garnering everyone’s attention. You sincerely hoped that you wouldn’t run into him again.

-----

Walking out of the meeting room, you stretched your arms above your head with a groan. It took forever for it to conclude, but when it did, you were excited to go back home and rest. The meeting had gone over the previous assignments each Stoneheart worked on, recounting specific details from reports and such. However, what stood out to you was the dinner that Diamond invited everyone to take part in, acting as some sort of team bonding experience.

“Excited for the dinner party tomorrow, Citrine?” Aventurine hummed, the two of you walking down the hallway to head back home.

“Kinda, I’m excited for the food.” You weren’t really much of a drinker, always the token sober friend at parties who made sure everyone was safe and having a good time. “You think you’re gonna get drunk?”

Aventurine laughed. “We’ll see how I’m feeling about drinks tomorrow night. If anything, you’ll take care of me, right?” He batted his eyelashes at you with an innocent look in his eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully punched his shoulder. “We’ll see. I might just leave you out on the streets if you’re not careful with your words.” Aventurine pouted at you, sighing dramatically.

“And here I thought we were best friends. You wound me, Citrine.”

“Oh shut it, Aven.”

-----

The next day, you went about your normal routine. Reluctantly leaving the comfort of your sheets to work on copious amounts of paperwork in your office, spending your lunch break with your fellow Stonehearts Aventurine and Topaz, continuing where you left off, and then clocking out for the day. If it weren’t for Aventurine reminding you of the dinner party that would be happening later, you would’ve forgotten and gone straight to bed. So instead of changing into your pajamas, you dressed appropriately for the occasion, making sure you had everything on you before driving off to the meeting point.

After parking your vehicle and making sure that it was locked, you walked up to the front of the restaurant, seeing your coworkers already gathered near the doors. Aventurine paused his conversation with Topaz, waving you over with a smile.

“Citrine! You actually showed up.” Topaz grinned. “I thought you would’ve been too tired to come.”

“Well, someone needs to keep everyone in check, especially this one.” You teased, rustling Aventurine’s blond hair. He swatted your hands away, huffing in annoyance as he tried fixing up his hair.

“Excuse me, I think I’d be just fine without your supervision.” Fixing his bangs, he shot you a playful glare. “You on the other hand… You probably couldn’t hold your liquor even if you tried.”

“Even if I couldn’t, at least I don’t continue to participate in drinking competitions only to end up throwing up all over myself.” You recalled the last time Aventurine drank too much he could hold. The poor guy had ended up puking all over his clothes and the smell could never be washed out.

“Wha– Shut up about that will you!” Aventurine elbowed you, eyes darting around the area to make sure no one heard that part of the conversation. Topaz laughed at the memory.

“Goodness, the smell was horrendous! You should’ve seen everyone’s faces as we passed them while escorting you back home.” Topaz snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to forget that memory.”

“Shut up! Both of you!”

-----

When everyone was accounted for, Diamond led you all inside, a worker of the restaurant holding the door open.

The interior of the restaurant gave off a sense of warmth, remaining both homey and lavish. The mahogany wooden counters went well with the beige walls, plants dotting every nook and cranny which gave the place a kind of liveliness. Placing your bag around the chair, you pulled out a seat and sat down, the cushion providing you with comfort. Aventurine and Topaz sat by your sides, eyes taking in the decorations and layout.

Grabbing a copy of the menu, Aventurine scanned through the various meals and desserts they had to offer, flipping to the alcohol section with a grin. “Citrine, you’ll take care of me in case anything happens..right?” He turned his head towards you, his grin growing wider at your deadpan expression.

“Duh–” “I knew I could rely on you!”

Aventurine wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his free hand clutching at his heart. What a drama queen, you thought, letting him side-hug you. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a rich but light aroma that held a hint of vanilla. Realizing how close he was to you, you felt your cheeks heat up, nudging him away as you gave him a lopsided smile.

“Don’t drink more than you can handle, Aven.” “I won’t, I won’t.”

The dinner, so far, has been going smoothly. The atmosphere was lively and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time together, sharing drinks and laughs, chatting about the latest trends and events, etc… You were talking with some of your fellow peers before you felt the urge to use the restroom. Excusing yourself from the conversation with a polite smile, you quickly hurried in the direction towards the restroom.

Aventurine, who had been glancing in your direction every couple of minutes, noticed your retreating form. At first, he was a little concerned due to the slight jog you were doing, but paid you no mind as he resumed listening to a coworker talk about his last assignment.

Yet..something had caught his eye, a familiar man who was sitting at the bar had gotten up from his seat and went in the same direction as you.

Despite him feeling a little tipsy, he knew his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him just yet. It was that subordinate from earlier. The weirdo who had stopped you and started hitting on you, ignoring your attempts at turning him down. What was he doing here?

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed, barely listening to his coworker at this point. He would never admit it to your face, but when he first witnessed the man trying to shoot his shot with you, he was ready to drag and throw him out to the curb, wanting to give the man hell for his unwavering persistence. His actions disgusted him, his stomach twisting and turning with deep rage when he placed his dirty hands on you.

Yet you handled the situation well, remaining both calm and professional, something that was undeserving for a man such as him. And though Aventurine would be sure to teach him some manners, he could not, for the meeting would start soon and he needed to hurry. So giving the man a silent glare, he promised himself to never let you come across that man again. Yet here he was, walking towards the restrooms.

Aventurine already accepted his feelings for you, yet he was too hesitant to make the first move. How ironic since he’s the one who usually flirts with you and teases you every day. The best he could do was give you a myriad of things, from expensive clothes and jewelry to simple trinkets. He knew what you liked, you were his close friend after all. Despite his yearning for something more, he didn’t want to risk the chance of losing you. It’s something he could never gamble with.

“--turine? Aventurine?” A finger snapped in front of his face, bringing his attention back to his coworker in front of him. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh- uh, yeah! I’m fine, just had a little too much to drink…” Aventurine muttered, eyes darting back towards the restrooms every couple of seconds. “I..need to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” Downing the rest of his cocktail, he stood up from his seat, the chair sliding back with a creak.

Nearing where the restrooms were located, Aventurine could hear the familiar sound of your voice and a man’s.

“Must I remind you that I am not interested?--”

“Come on! Just give me a chance! I know a lovely spot where we could..get down to business.” Hearing those words made you gag, shoving the man away from you to gain some distance.

“A chance? How about I give you a chance to get the hell out of here before I do it myself.”

“There’s no need for the feisty attitude! Let me buy you one drink, I’ll make it worth your time–”

“I think you’ve heard loud and clear that they don’t want anything to deal with you.”

Both you and the man’s head snapped towards the direction in which the voice came from. It was Aventurine, with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted into a disgusted frown. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, magenta-cyan eyes burning holes through the man’s head. If looks could kill, that man would’ve been deader than dead.

“Tch- who are you?” The man snobbily asked, attempting to stand his ground. Aventurine laughed, walking over towards the both of you. You could feel the anger seeping from his being, permeating the air with a thick tension that anyone could suffocate in.

He was more than angry, enraged.

“I think the better question is: who do you think you are? Approaching members of the Stonehearts so casually and treating them like an item.” Aventurine towered over the man, the pressure weighing him to his spot. “Learn to respect your superiors, subordinate.”

You could visibly see the color draining from the man’s face when Aventurine showed his ID as proof, tucking it away into his pocket.

“You know, you’re quite lucky you’ve made it this far without getting fired.” Aventurine adjusted his coat. “But I’m afraid your luck has come to an end, I’ll be changing that.” Lowering his gaze to be eye-to-eye with the man, he gave him a condescending smile, “You’ll be fired, and that starts tomorrow.” Leaning back into his full height, Aventurine walked past him towards you, grabbing your hand and leading you away from the man who had not yet registered the blond’s words.

“F-fired…?” His voice was drowned out by the chattering of people and workers as the two of you got farther and farther away from him.

“Phew, now that that’s settled with… How about we have some fun?” Aventurine gave you a genuine grin this time, his personality taking a huge turn. Blinking at him, you were still registering everything that had happened.

“Aventurine…”

“C’mon Citrine, the night won’t last forever!”

You stared at him before sighing, a drink could help after all that had just happened.

“Fine… But I need to talk to you about something later.” His grin faltered but came back just as fast.

“Sure. Now here, I think this drink is something you’ll definitely enjoy.”

-----

As you promised yourself, you only drank what you could handle so you wouldn’t get flat-out drunk. And as Aventurine didn’t promise, he was flat-out drunk.

The dinner had ended a couple of minutes ago and you were saying goodbye to the rest of your peers, parting ways while lugging a drunk Aventurine behind you.

“Ugh Aventurine, how much did you drink?” Your nose wrinkled as you could smell the strong scent of alcohol radiating from him. He definitely needed to take a shower as soon as he got home. But there was a problem, a tiny issue.

He didn’t have anyone but himself at home so there was no way you could leave him alone lest he hurt himself.

“Heh, one too many…” Aventurine giggled, dragging his foot behind him. You shook your head with a small grin on your face. “Clearly.”

Aventurine had originally hitched a ride with Topaz, so there was no issue about leaving a car behind. She had offered to take him home but you felt that it was your responsibility since you’ve been close friends for a while. So with one final goodbye and hug, she left, leaving you with a drunk gambler in an almost barren parking lot. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Opening the passenger door, you helped Aventurine buckle himself up, moving his legs so they wouldn’t get hit by the door closing. After getting in yourself, you made sure everything was cleared before leaving the parking space and heading to Aventurine’s place.

Occasionally, you would glance in his direction whenever you were at a stop light, making sure that he was ok before looking back at the road. He seemed to be dozing off here and there, body jolting back awake every time he found himself leaning forward. You found it a little silly but decided not to say anything about it.

At last, you could see his house in the distance.

Putting your vehicle in park, you carefully helped him out of the passenger’s seat and closed the door with your leg. Walking up the steps to his front door, you could hear the faint sounds of his pets from the other side. There was a ‘mrow’ at the door, soft scratching noises coming from behind it.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You smiled, turning towards Aventurine. “Do you have the keys?”

“Mm coat pocket…” He grunted, leaning on you for support as he fished out his keys. It took a couple of tries but eventually, you were able to unlock the door, pushing it open with your foot.

Three gray cats greeted you at the front, looking up at the both of you with wide eyes. They happily followed you as you made your way to the living room couch, setting him down so you could take off your shoes.

“You think you can shower by yourself?” You asked, placing your shoes in a small cubby. Aventurine gave you a small nod, swaying side to side as he walked towards his bedroom. You watched him for just a moment to make sure he didn’t trip, but with the help of his pets, he was able to safely make it to the bedroom and to his personal bathroom.

With a sigh, you walked towards one of the guest rooms to go find some clothes. You normally left a couple of your clothes in one of his guest rooms since you’d have occasions such as these where he was too drunk to properly care for himself. And the occasional sleepover or game night with Topaz and Ratio.

Fishing through the dresser, you pulled out some comfortable pajamas and a towel before walking towards the main bathroom. Honestly, you were a little jealous that he had such a big place with a lot of rooms. It made your place feel much smaller.

-----

The steam from the hot bath you just took evaporated in the air when you opened the door, stepping outside with a towel around your neck. You could still hear the water running from Aventurine’s room, assuming that he was savoring the much-needed shower. You knocked on his door loud enough so that he could hear, ear pressed against the door to hear for a response.

“Aventurine? You okay in there?”

The shower stopped, curtains shuffling which signaled that he was getting out. “Yes, I’m.. fine.” He softly called out.

“Mm..” Backing away from the door, you left to go make him a glass of water.

Plopping down onto the sofa, you grabbed the remote to the TV and flipped through different movies before settling on one that caught your interest. Soon after, you heard the door to his bedroom open and the sounds of multiple footsteps making their way to the living room.

“Citrine..?”

“Here, come take a seat. I got you some water, I figured you were thirsty.” You patted the space next to you, watching as he plopped himself by your side with his pets hopping around the two of you. They had settled at the foot of the couch, seemingly interested in the movie as much as you were.

There was a brief silence between the two of you besides the sounds from the TV and occasional yawn coming from the critters. Glancing at a nearby clock, the time had read 10:37 PM, yet you didn’t feel tired. You turned your gaze back to the TV, continuing to watch whatever movie was playing. You hadn’t bothered to check the title or description.

Aventurine moved forward to grab the glass of water, drinking quite a bit of it before turning to face you.

“..You wanted to talk about something..?” He drowsily asked. Your eyes flickered to his own before settling back on the movie.

“I wanted to say thanks for.. what happened today. I really appreciate it.”

Aventurine smiled softly, “What are friends for.”

You smiled back.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his tongue. Would now be the time to tell you? What would he even say? Whatever he drank at the party certainly made him feel bolder than usual if he was certain of confessing to you.

“_____…” You perked up at the sound of your name, directing your full attention towards Aventurine. Usually, when he called you by your actual name, he had something troubling him. And by observing his facial expression and body language, you knew something was bothering him.

“Is everything alright?” You turned down the volume of the TV.

“I need to tell you something,” Aventurine murmured, hands reaching to grab yours. He seemed awfully clingy, then again, he always is when he’s drunk.

“What is it?” You interlock your hands with him, squeezing them comfortingly. “I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I—“ He took a deep breath, “—don’t want to be friends anymore.”

‘Fuckthatcameoutwrong—‘

You stared at him in stunned silence, feeling a piece of you die right then and there. What did he mean by, ‘I don’t want to be friends anymore.’? Is he finally fed up with all your shit after all these years? Did he—

“I want to be more than just close friends, _____.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense.

“Huh.” You idiot, is that all you can say? He gave you a flat expression, does he need to repeat himself? Please don’t make him say it again.

“I—“ “No I just— sorry. I feel the same way about you, I was just in shock.” You interrupted, palms becoming slightly sweaty. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been holding onto that.”

“Really, when did you start feeling this way?” You were curious as to when this all started because you had liked him a while back too. Maybe if you had mustered up the courage earlier on, you would’ve been together by now.

Aventurine shrugged, “Dunno. One day you just walked in through the doors and after that, I.. felt differently towards you.”

“But—“ he continued, “The more time I spent around you the more I started picking up on your little habits, what you loved, how you liked things done a certain way… No matter how big or small they were, I just seemed to notice it and I held onto it longer than I thought I would.” He coughed. “That was a mouthful.”

Laughing, you gave him a tight hug, soaking in his warmth. He hugged you back, clinging onto you as if you’d be gone within a blink of an eye. Oh how terrible that would be if this was a dream his hazy mind came up with…

But you were here, breathing the same air as him and sharing your warmth with him. This was no dream like the ones he had in previous nights. He couldn’t be happier.

-----

Groaning, Aventurine slowly blinked his eyes open. His head pounded and his mouth felt full of cotton, the fuzzy memories from last night slowly seeping into his conscious mind.

Right..last night.

Aventurine slowly sat up, being mindful of the warmth next to him as he peered down at your slumbering form. Small puffs of air left you, chest steadily rising and falling before you shuffled in your sleep. He chuckled, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.

Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he decided he would make breakfast for the both of you.

“Ugh…”

…After he took some painkillers.

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

#writing➠#hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr topaz #hsr jade #fluff #drunken confessions #drunk! aventurine #citrine! reader #gn! reader

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