Hii! I love your works! I was wondering if you could do the NSFW Alphabet for Jun🥹
NSFW ALPHABET - MOON JUNHUI
-> pairing : moon junhui x fem!reader
-> words count : 1.9k words
-> genre : pure smut
-> warnings : switch!jun x switch!fem reader, aftercare, body descriptions, cum, marking, biting, handjob, masturbation (m. & f.), mutual masturbation, nudes and sexting, sextape, shower sex, riding, morning sex, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, scent kink, overstimulation, edging, public sex, car sex, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), sextoys, mention of threesome
+ the way i'm depicting junhui does not represents him, it's only a work of fiction
-> 18+ content below, minors DNI
-> author's note : so sorry for taking so much time answering this request lovely but I hope you'll still like it and thank you so much for supporting my blog <3
-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !
-> masterlist | svt masterlist
A - AFTERCARE
So much cuddles. He switches between being the little and big spoon all the time, but no matter the position you’re hugging in, he always talks to you, telling you all about his days, the little things that made him happy and the silly things his members have done.
B - BODY PARTS (favourite body part of theirs and their partners)
Jun is in love with your tummy - no matter if it's fat or if you have abs, he’s obsessed. Whenever you’re wearing crop tops and low rise pants, he just has to stare at it, keep his hand on it at all times. Whenever he lays you down on the bed to take care of you, he always spends extra time kissing it. He’ll keep his hands on it when you’re on your period to help with the cramps. And of course, cumming all over it would send him to heaven.
His Adam’s apple is just so fucking pretty. You’re always staring at it when he’s drinking water, or when he’s stretching out, watching it bobbing up and down. It’s just so attractive, you have to kiss it up and down, to bite and lick his neck all over. And you both love how much of a mess he is once you’re done with marking down his neck.
C - CUM
He’s so addicted to cumming all over your hands, sometimes he’ll even pull out just so you can finish him with a handjob. He also loves cumming inside, obviously, as well as on your tummy. And moreover, he likes the mess, to see you covered in him.
D - DIRTY SECRET
Before the two of you got together, he already had his eyes on you, of course, but maybe a bit too much. You shouldn’t really touch yourself to your friend’s innocent pictures, right ? But he did, and it felt way too good for him to regret doing what he’s done.
E - EXPERIENCE
He definitely has experience because well, he has needs and he likes sex. He’s also very confident and cocky about his talents in the bedroom, he kind of brag about it a bit too much but the infuriating part is that he is good so you can’t even tease him or complain about his overconfidence.
F - FAVOURITE POSITION
Classic missionary, with both of your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds into you. I feel like Jun definitely uses the shower as an excuse to have one more round, taking you from behind with one of his hands holding your waist and the other one resting on your stomach. He also likes you to ride him, of course.
G - GOOFY (are they more serious or not in the moment ?)
It really depends on which mood he is into. Because if he’s in a serious, intense and passionate vibe, he would not crack a joke, only focused on your pleasure and his. However, if he’s in a more playful and teasing mood, you’ll definitely have a laugh with him. It happens a lot when you have slow morning sex, when he’s all relaxed and giggling at whatever silly comment you made on his messy hair.
H - HAIR
As much as I’d like to think about him with a happy trail, I definitely think he's more keen on trimming it regularly and keeping it very clean.
I - INTIMACY (are they romantic ?)
Once again, it really depends on his mood and the situation. He’s definitely a lot more romantic when you’ve been apart, even for a few days, because he’s just so glad that he has someone he can come home to and he needs to show you exactly that. When he’s frustrated or stressed though, he tends to be more rough and less romantic.
J - JACK OFF
As mentioned before, Jun loves handjobs - maybe even more than having your mouth on him - and consequently, being in a serious relationship doesn’t stop him from touching himself when he needs it. Usually, it’s under the shower when he just came back from practice, relaxing under the hot water and lazily stroking himself. He likes to take his time with it, feeling all the sensations. When he’s on tour, he’ll definitely send nudes, videos of him jerking off and touching himself on the phone with you.
K - KINKS
I am convinced that this man is a freak, so let’s just start by stating that as much as he loves touching himself, mutual masturbation feels even better for him. He gets to feel you clench down on his fingers and to have your hands jerking him off instead of his ? He’s in love. Your scent drives him mad too. He always needs to cum with his head buried in your neck or your hair, inhaling your perfume because it’s just so much better like that. He’ll purposefully spray some of your perfume on his clothes, or wash his hair with your shampoo just so he can smell you all day. Oh, and don’t be surprised if he lets you wear all his clothes - it’s just so he can wear them after you and still smell you on the fabric. It makes him rock hard in his pants every time. As mentioned before, he loves it when you mark him with hickeys or scratches down his back, but his favourite is when you bite him. He could cum just from your teeth sinking into his neck as you’re riding him. Jun likes to play with nudes, videos or audio messages too, he has a secret folder on his phone with everything you sent him or filmed together. And I think he’ll be into orgasm control too, overstimulation as much as edging.
L - LOCATION (favourite places to do it)
As mentioned before, he likes to do it in the shower, especially after you’ve already fucked in the bedroom, the sensations heightened by the hot water. I think he’ll also be into public sex a lot. His favourite ? Fucking you in the car, especially if you’re parked somewhere a lot of people pass by.
M - MOTIVATION (what turns them on)
When you’re wearing crop tops. Your scent lingering on his clothes when you hand them back. When you playfully bite or scratch him. When you’re showing off the new clothes you bought, feeling all confident in them. When you come back home still sweating and panting after going running or to the gym.
N - NO
He would never be able to tie you up, not because he’s afraid to hurt you, but solely because he likes to have your hands on him way too much. You tying him up on the other hand… He wouldn’t be against it.
O - ORAL
Jun loves foreplay, and the intimacy of it. So of course, he loves oral as well and he’s definitely more into giving than receiving. But he knows just how much you love having his mouth on you and he teases you about it a lot, parting your legs and caressing your thighs, blowing air onto your soaked pussy but not touching you where you need the most to make you beg for it a bit. When he dives in though, there’s no stopping him until his face is covered in your juices. He laps at your cunt, sucks around your clit, alternates between pushing his tongue and his fingers inside, lets you pull on his hair - he does it all until you’re a trembling mess and he has that cocky smile on his face.
Although he prefers receiving a handjob, he won’t deny an occasion to have your mouth on him either. He loves it when you tease him by just kitten licking his tip, and then deepthroat him without any warnings. It makes him moan so loud you wonder how his voice has not broken already. His favourite is when you don’t take him fully into your mouth - even if you can definitely do it - and keep one hand at the base of his cock, either squeezing him or stroking him. He prefers to cum on your face or your tits rather than down your throat.
P - PACE
As much as he’s passionate and intense in the bedroom, he likes to take his time when he finally pushes into you, starting with slow but deep thrusts. But he quickly becomes pussy drunk and then he just chases his pleasure and yours with a quick pace.
Q - QUICKIE
He’s all in for them, and honestly, it happens almost every time he goes off stage and you’re there waiting for him. Every member of the group and of the staff knows to not bother Jun when he locks the door of the dressing room. I feel like he would like to eat you out before a show as well, calling you his good luck charm and leaving you aching for more when he comes back after the concert.
R - RISK (do they like to experiment ?)
Jun is open to testing almost anything, because he lives on the principle that he cannot know if he likes it if he never tried it. So he’s down to try about anything you’d suggest, and he’ll be open about the things he wants to try as well.
S - STAMINA
It’s insane how much stamina he has, he can really go all night without a single problem. He likes it when you both finally lay down at the end of the night, breathless and covered in marks and bodily fluids. Yeah, he has a lot of energy and he likes it messy.
T - TOYS
They make his mean and teasing side resurface : once you give him access to your toys and allow him to use them on you, he’s not stopping until you’re begging him to do so. I can see him liking the vibrations on his cock too, he’ll let you overstimulate him as well.
U - UNFAIR (how much they like to tease)
He loves to tease during foreplay, loves to make you cry and beg for him, but once he sinks down into your cunt, he’s gone. All his cocky smiles and mocking chuckles dissolve into moans about how good you feel. Definitely will piss you off on purpose so you’ll tease him instead.
V - VOLUME (how loud they are)
Jun moans a lot, and I just know he sounds so good too. When he’s getting close to cumming, he goes almost silent, and then whimpers until you’ve milked him dry.
W - WILD CARD
One time, Chan caught the two of you while Jun had you face down, ass up, pounding into you with his hand buried into your hair. Jun didn’t stop fucking you, and Chan stayed longer than he should’ve and you both saw the boner he had when he finally walked out. So maybe, you’ve been trying to “get caught” again and invite him to join this time…
X - X-RAY
I think Jun is pretty average, maybe just a bit longer though and I also think it’s curved.
Y - YEANRNING (how high is their sex drive)
He definitely has a high sex drive, he needs you all the time and he’s not even ashamed of it. Sometimes, he just pressed himself against you with a cocky smirk because he knows you want him just as much.
Z - ZZZ (how fast they fall asleep)
Usually, he talks to you until you fall asleep. If he’s really tired, he can fall asleep before you do but it’s rare. And it’s always the greatest and most restful nights you can have.
-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.
pairing: mortal!seungcheol x fem!celestial being!reader
synopsis: You wrote the past, present and future into existence. You know everything, but yourself. Maybe it's time you delved into what made, you human once: Choi Seungcheol.
word count: 3.3k words
notes, warnings: fem reader, no pronouns used/no named mc or y/n used. non idol au. Important, this is fictional and does not express reality about the actual members of seventeen. immortality themes, jeonghan cameo, alternate timelines and dimensions. I wrote this with a female mc in mind and I might include she/her pronouns in future parts so the tags and notes might change in the future. everyone Is still free to read if they feel comfortable! :) reader has hair and looks young to jh. angst with flashbacks of the past.
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Your fingers played with the planes of time. Sitting in your palace of glass, all you could do was sigh, watching as everyone played along. Everyone had a fixed job, every inanimate object and being had their positions set in stone. Of course, this stone had been transcribed by you, eons ago, captive in your iridescent palace, using glass to scratch the history of everything past and forever paged onto your crystal walls. When everything had been written, you watched as everything played out, beginning to end.
At first, being captive in a place with no memories of your own but of everything around you being played along behind your eyelids was terrifying. It was impossible to imagine that a celestial body such as yours was able to pinpoint the smallest grain of sand from its beginning to its destination.
You weren’t like the beings you saw in your visions. You were humanoid, yet you didn't have the desire to eat, or sleep or drink like they did. You were like them in the way you craved connection; in the way you craved to be looked at with something other than your own confused reflection. You wanted to feel the touch of another on your hand, rather than the predetermined palm of your right on your left. You urged to be known, to be acknowledged. It all was very human, something so far away.
You lived somewhere in the mountains, you imagined. It was hard to think too much about yourself and the situation you were in. It was cruel. Being alone was funny: seeing planets and universes come to be and fade out, watching behind your eyelids as a mundane group of people enjoyed something as simple as a meal: cruel. Your reflection displayed a person you didn't seem to recognize, and when you tried to imagine anything about yourself, a blinding, throat-seering migraine slapped you across the face. It was agonizing. You learned to forget yourself. You taught yourself that you worked for the walls that binded you and that that was all for it.
A door stood at the entrance of your castle. It didn't lead to anything you were aware of. It was comedic. You knew what was going to happen on Humanly Jupiter in 53 seconds, but you had no clue what the door outside your castle held. You only knew that only the hands of a human mortal could touch them. You also knew that they were unidirectional. They could only be opened from the outside. You had learned that the hard way when your hands started to glow from the excessive force you had applied, near centuries ago. Like the glass hypercube you were placed in, these rules were glued into your mind. You were locked from the outside, and had come to terms with your immortality ages ago.
Lounging in your personal quarters onlooking a glassy, haze like fog, your mind served a moment of peace which handt happened in a while. The last time you had felt true silence was perhaps 763 years ago when your mind suddenly blanked, and you were left with such confining rules in your head.
“Hello?”
Yoon Jeonghan, Human, Humanly October Fourth, Astronaut and Physicist, educator of stars and matter.
You approached the throne room, not exactly entering. Jeonghan the human had left the door to the outside ajar behind him as he looked around, his eyes shaking and wavering as he tried to find the source of your feet padding across the floor.
“Jeonghan. Welcome. You were not supposed to stumble into my realm.” Your voice was malfigured in a way that left him at slight unease, yet warm enough to leave him in a warm embrace he didn't quite understand.
You stood behind a pillar. You knew what he looked like. His story was written a while back. He was destined for greatness, only to give up on his passion for science and join a baking club in the suburbs in his early forties. The Jeonghan behind the pillar was younger.
It didn’t make sense, not at all. You were destined for solitude and he was destined for something else entirely. No mortal was allowed into your realm, and you weren’t allowed anything, for all you knew. Jeonghan wasn’t playing along with the script you had transcribed. It made you a little sick, and everything you knew was being questioned, but internally. Out of the two beings in the throne room, you were supposed to be the one who had all the answers, all the timelines under control. The threads were slipping, little by little.
Stay composed.
“You know me?” He had asked, rubbing his gear. Dropping his helmet onto the floor. There was no crash, only a light clink.
“Of course, I know everyone, everywhere.”
“I also-” He took a breath in, nervously, “know you. I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. You were always a wives tale, handed down between families on our planet.”
You listened, curious about yourself. “Earth was it?” You had murmured after a moment to yourself, a migraine already building behind your eyes.
“Yes, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Your Majesty, Thank you for trying to converse with a mere mortal like me,” He sounded awkward, and you felt worse.
Why would he place you in confinements like royalty when he didn't know a single thing about you? You placed it all in the ignorance of being human and the simplicity that came with it. Confusion was not a state you were proud of, not at the appearance of an anomaly like the man hidden from your vision.
“That sounds wrong. Please don’t refer to me as such,” You had corrected him, gently.
“Then shall I refer to you as the name we have given you back in our home?”
Another pause, and your mind seemed to clear, if only for a bit.
“You may. I don’t think I have a name, but any would be better than such titles I am undeserving of.”
You were surprised at your candor with the mortal. You had no idea how he was taking this information. But you couldn’t help but utter words that were possibly not needed. You didn't really know anything about words and their necessity. This was the first conversation you had ever had, you thought.
He called you a name. You didn't recognize it all, which was funny considering the fact that you played with time as if it were a harp and with space as if it were clay getting prepared for pottery. But perhaps, it felt right because you began to feel a warmth encompassing you when he had called upon you with something that was truly unfamiliar.
A glow emmited from you, and you began to make your way away from the pillar and finally sat up on the chair where you wrote out scripts of every person to exist.
Jeonghan didn't expect you to look so human. Or so young.
When he entered the event horizon of the black hole, he had imagined that he would experience what it felt to be human, at least one last time, but he had ended up in a special place. A place where time felt incomplete, where space was just another variable to consider in an equation, and a snowy mountain with a short hike to crystal palace that was belittling him from the precipice.
The door to your castle had felt negligible, lightweight and almost invisible if it weren’t for the handle. On his hike up to the glass cage, he had wondered where he could’ve landed. Maybe an alternate reality that his mind had escaped to, or perhaps there was enough inertia to pivot him onto another planet, light years away. He had been wrong, of course.
It was only when he recognized a species of flower he had only heard in fables (unofficially named Monsoon due to its blossoming post rain). It had almost dead petals, and yet it seemed to be breathing. He didn't know much about flowers, but everyone in his little town knew that the Monsoon flower represented forgiveness. He didn’t know why, but he plucked three. His hands stopped itching when the three flowers were finally in his palms.
The presence of the Monsoon Flower implied that he had ended up in your realm, a place given to those who would stumble upon it when they had scratched the surface of space and time and survived. He had heard of the last time someone had entered this realm. They had been granted greath wealth and prosperity. Good for them, he supposed. The journey to your dimension had not been an easy one. At least that last person came out lucky.
He had been expecting an entity, not a human figure who looked on curiously at him as if he would be ready to bite. His eyes joined yours, and he slowly raised a palm, holding three, handpicked flowers, gently swaying in his. You suddenly felt as if your neurons (if you had any) were suddenly lit on fire.
Grant it to him.
Give him a wish.
Make him happy.
Your mind was burning. You tried to be presentable, so as to not to worry him but you couldn’t control the motion of shaking this uncomfortable commanding voice out of your head. This wasn’t like the migraines you had self inflicted by indulging in yourself, no. This was something new entirely. An unfamiliar voice whispered into your ears, like a fly on the walls, only that the walls were your eardrums and your hands were tied behind as you struggled to swat at the pestering bug.
“For making such an arduous journey to my realm, I will grant you one wish.”
Your voice sounded unused, as it had been, and was whispered in a tone that sounded exhausted, yet comforting.
Jeonghan, what a pretty human he was. His ebony lashes fluttered as he looked at you in utter disbelief.
“I would like to go back home,” He had come up with, after a momentary pause.
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his humble wish.
“That is already included, your return back to your home is a given, after you decided on your gift.”
Jeonghan thought hard, and looked at you, a bit more in disbelief, then in confusion.
“Can’t decide?”
You felt yourself go on autopilot.
“How about unimaginable wealth? Glory? Wisdom? Perhaps Universe-wide recognition?”
Visions of a man flashed before your eyelids. He was on his knees, in front of you begging at your throne. You looked forward, avoiding his gaze. He was in tunics, and was shaking your shoulders, begging for you to look at him. Your eyes glazed over as you ignored his cries of attention. Everything was bright, Your castle seemed to be breathing lush as views of the mountains grew colder. He made a wish. You coudn’t hear him. He was gone, and you had finally forgotten his face.
“How about love?” He wondered, Curious.
A few scenes flashed once more. It was of the same man. His hair was slightly shorter, and he seemed to be clutching onto a gold ring, lilies embossed on all surfaces. Further flashes. Your head hurt as you chased onto the image of his fleeting glances on your lips, and your eyes chasing his view. His laugh was vivid and he imagined you to be his whole world. He grabbed for your face, and you were inching closer to him, and all was going to be good if you were in his arms once more, when-
“Unfortunately that cannot be done, Jeonghan.” You breathed out.
“Understandable.” He nodded off. You didn’t understand how he was quick to agree, but were happy with his answer. That would give you more time to think of solutions to his questions.
“What about you? What would you wish for?”
It was silence, once more in your head. Third time, ever.
You looked at the door that had a sliver of light filtering into your chiasm. Maybe a breath of fresh air, perhaps a person to eat a meal with. Maybe a stroll in a park, and skydiving with the wind whipping into your face. Maybe Lilies, and a cup of tea. What exactly was a lily?
“I have everything I need, right here.” You smiled. You pinched the back of your ear as you pushed your hair back. Why the need to lie to a man you had previously spoken nothing but the truth to? You didn’t know.
But Jeonghan wasn’t as stupid as others had thought of him to be. His eyes were sharp, and his tongue was blunt, but never rude. His gaze was soft and perceptive when needed and he understood the longing behind your eyes as your iris flitted between him and the door he had left open behind him.
“I want intuition.”
You raised an eyebrow, surprised at his wish. Nothing could be said as the air seemed to thicken. You simply nodded.
“Granted, Yoon Jeonghan. Safe travels back to your Earth. When you wake up, this shall all be a dream.” You added seamlessly, wondering if this would be the last time you would interact with another.
He looked at you, coyly, and bowed. “Thank you for your gift,”
His back grew smaller, as he walked away, further away from you, back to the entrance that kept you hidden.
His helmet was still glistening on the floor, and you looked at it, confused.
You hurried and grabbed the reflecting orb, before rushing towards his retreating figure.
When he passed the transparent glass, he simply slipped through the glass, leaving a large gap, just enough for you to slip by.
He walked back on through the mountains.
You fell through the floor, and the glass swallowed you whole. Your mouth tasted salty as you fell into a deep mass of nothingness, yet sounds of horrid screams echoed in your ears. Your clothes flapped along as darkness surrounded you and the weighlessness that came with being aflight jumbled into your abdomen like a sweet sucker punch.
You closed your eyes. You balled your hands into fists and let out a shriek into the darkness. Nothing had called back, until the memories came rushing back.
It was difficult to remember who you were in your palace, but in this dark pool of infinite possibility, visions of adoration and lost memories rushed back in a way that felt restoring. It was as if the cracked pottery received scratches to reattach pieces that once were. Akin to tasting the sweet nectar of a pretty flower ages after having a trial once in adolesence. Was it love that made you whole?
-
You had loved Choi Seungcheol eons ago. He had loved you back too, you thought.
He had stumbled into your realm, ripped apart from his timeline and had ended up on your doorstep. He was a good companion, if you tried to remember. Your memories were cracked, just like the pottery of space that you molded occasionally.
“You’re pretty,”
Was the first thing he said to you. His lip had been bleeding and his face had been hollowed out. His clothes were closer to rags and his voice held a deep ache in them. Yet he couldn’t help but be mesmerised by your smile as you chuckled at his compliment. His heart felt light. But maybe that was the dehydration talking.
Your heart wavered, too.
He was a difficult person, initially. He didn’t understand the possibility of a realm such as yours, nor would he accept the wish you could grant him.
Time passed quickly when you were in love.
His presence came to you in flashes.
His fingers brushed the transcriptions along your walls. Your fingers guided him to a script he felt connected to.
“This is your life story,” You had murmured.
The space between the two of you grew tighter, more intimate. His breath grew short as he brushed the tips of his fingers against the smooth glass, while you watched the space between his eyes, his philtrum which wavered as he tried to understand the meaning of such symbols. He would simply never. Your heart ached as he brushed onto the last symbol before another person’s story started. He would never know.
“Will we ever get a chance together?” He had asked one day, about fifteen days into his first appearance, into your crystal chambers.
You had only looked past him, pensieve.
Seungcheol would not survive if he was with you. You watched on as he thinned out. You fed him apparitions of the finest meals your palms could conjure. He smiled, yet his cheeks would not rise. His eyes seemed dimmer as the cost of your immortality weighed on him. He swallowed it all up, eager to be by your side. His gentle grip on your wrists as your transcribed glass on glass grew weaker by the day, but when you’d look at him in concern, he’d simply brush you off. His hair grew grey, and not in an elderly way, but in rot. Your dimension was actively chasing him to disappearance.
You had never wished for love to be so cruel.
When he had vomited out the contents of his stomach and some, His eyes shed a few tears. He hid them from you, and only laughed on as he gagged, blood entering his throat.
“My love! You know I don't prefer bean sprouts!” he laughed as you had clutched onto his back, tears blurring your vision.
You stayed silent, your throat housing a painful ball of emotion and fire. It hurt to stay silent.
“Mortal Choi Seungcheol of Humanly Earth. Please, make your wish.” You had grunted out, tears slipping carelessly from your eyes as you stayed seated on your throne.
Seungcheol looked up, and wiped his lips against the brown tunic you had conjured for him.
“You know my wish would be to make you mine,”
“Please, Seungcheol. Do not make this any harder.” You gripped onto the glass. It pierced you. Your voice sounded unstable.
“I wish you’d love me back!” He had roared into the glass
“You know I cannot!”
You breathed in as he stormed towards you, grabbing your injured palm away.
His eyes were red, and his lashes, once light and airy, were glued together by his salty tears.
“I'm trapped here for an eternity and no matter what I do, I cannot let go. Not of you, but also not of what fate decides for me! And what fate has already decided of you. I cannot choose to be selfish when it has never been a choice and I have clearly blundered by letting you stay here for so long.”
“Don’t be a coward. There's always been a choice. Can I not be your choice, My love?” He sobbed harder. You couldn’t bear to look at his face. His pleads fell onto your yearning ears.
“Don’t call me that! Seungcheol, do you not get it in your stupid measly brain? We were doomed from the start, the stars already planned everything out!”
His face inched closer to yours and yours to his. Your vision blurred as the space between the two of you grew miniscule, until it was infinite.
“Forget me. Live a life worth fighting for. When you wake up, this will all be a dream. Forget your foolish love. What I had was deprivation.” You snarled, harsh, with minced breath.
You felt the pain of thousand swords piercing into your chest as you lied to the face of your vulnerable beloved, his eyes speaking everything, and then nothing.
Your shoulders were deprived of his warmth.
When you looked up, all that was left was his blank stare.
“I wish for you to forget me,”
tbc ˎˊ˗
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hey guys, sorry for the long inactivity period. I haven't been doing the best but I felt the itch to write something after watching the odyssey. this was inspired by a lot of different myths, concepts, medias and fandoms. hope you guys liked it. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated.
In which you slowly fall inlove with your possessive and flirty bsf who sees you two as nothing more than friends
Joshua x Fem!reader
Part 1
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Notes/warnings: 18+, lingerie pic from Pinterest ofc, curse words, josh is REALLY unfair and toxic, possessive behavior, VERY much angst, josh calls reader petnames, seungkwan is your other bsf, josh n reader get into an argument mentions of reader crying, reader is lwk also possessive in her own way??, reader gets jealous, reader kinda has a roster??, that should be it?? Enjoy!(want a part 3? Lmk)
In which you slowly fall inlove with your possessive and flirty bsf who sees you two as nothing more than friends
Joshua x fem!reader
Part 2
Notes: 18+, reader is a litte oblivious, toxic behavior, nsfw, angst. (There MIGHT be a part 2), this is kinda like my jaehyun(bnd) one bcs i wanted write sm like this again lol
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, smut, oral (f.receiving), protected penetration (??? not me suddenly feeling shy after writing absolute filth), heavy use of daddy, dominant cheol, dirty talk, reader is diabetic, i might be missing something but this chapter is absolute filth thats it thats the warning and i dont wanna give spoilers
wc: 8k
c's note: the anon who asked if they should bring tissues, yes, but for completely different reason. let me go touch some grass and smell some flowers. Your comments, reblogs, or even anon asks helps in writing more, so please feel free to send any of those🥺
this is unedited and you will find grammar mistakes, please excuse me as english is not my native language
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles, needy by ariana grande
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Choi Seungcheol is a man of pride. He comes from the Chois, a well-known name in the industry, and how dominating the Choi Enterprises is. He is the son of the man who runs that prestigious company. Not once Seungcheol looked back at people after they had done him wrong.
Some guy.
Seungcheol curls his hand into a fist, remembering every moment from the previous night. He exhales, running his hand through his hair, wet from the shower he took after a three long hour gym session. He did everything he is physically capable of to forget about your emotionless look, and how you have thrown him under the bus.
He sniffles, the cold night air doesn’t help him as he stands in the guest parking lot outside your apartment. The streetlights attract insects, and doing so little in illuminating the way. The aged apartment stands tall, few windows lit with people going on about their life, and his eyes move to the dark windows sitting on the fourth floor.
What is he even doing here? After what went down. And just like that he is angry again.
Seungcheol unbuttons his blue and black checkered shirt, letting the cool breeze do its magic in calming down his heated body. He smoothens the rumples in his white tee from spending an hour in the car, agonizing over his decision to drive here recklessly and with no plan or thoughts, unable to decide if he is an idiot.
He resumes pacing around the parking lot, kicking the stray rocks. He looks up once at your dark apartment, and turns away, staring at the insects hovering over the street lights. It is not late yet. He can go back to his apartment before you make it back home from the evening walk. Does he have no dignity to come back here after you ended it all? Does he have no spine to toss everything away just the way you did?
Seungcheol feels restless, covered in layers and it’s just so hot in and out of his body, he completely removes the shirt he has worn over the white tee, throwing it on his shoulder as he leans against his car, watching out to the road. Why can’t he fucking leave?
He checks the time on his watch, he licks his dry and cracked lips, chewing on his lower lip worsening the delicate skin more. You should be here anytime. He turns around, checking his reflection in the back windshield of his car, smoothening down his unruly hair.
A light flickers on in some apartment grabbing his attention. He watches the shadows move about, flickering of lights from a screen. He looks up to the dark window sitting on the fourth floor, his tense shoulders slouch as he leans against his car.
His heart slows down, going back to the normal tempo, he traces the cracks that adorn the building like a decoration, even hosting life in a few spots. The creepers are still young, and still spreading. His eyes flick back to your windows staring longingly. How much time does he have left? Or is he done already?
The angst in his heart melts away, making way to the true feeling he has been carrying. Betrayed. How can you do that to him? How can you tell the world despite him apologising? How can you not see him trying?
And still why does he want to see you one last time? If you have truly moved on from him.
The vibration of his phone breaks the agony in his heart, he pulls out the device from his pocket opening a text from his brother. His brother never sends a message and when he does it’s always bad news.
An image of his brother on his knee, proposing to his girlfriend. Fuck.
Seungcheol locks his phone, exhaling through his mouth, done with everything. His phone should be ringing soon, his mother demanding answers from him about his brother’s reckless and disrespectful behaviour.
He silences his phone and looks at the tiny plant taking life near your window.
A bark, sounds of paws running across the asphalt and Seungcheol is already on his knees, opening his arms wide. Clementine jumps up and down, licks his face before rubbing herself all over him.
A golden light fills his heart, a laugh tumbling out before he can have control over his emotions. Clementine is restless over whether to lick him all or just rub herself on him.
Seungcheol takes it all in with warmth blossoming in his chest. Human emotions are fickle, one moment he feels as if the entire world is showering its love and the next moment there’s a tense feeling uprising inside him.
He gives one pat on Clementine’s back, and stands up, picking his fallen shirt off the ground.
You are standing in front of him, lips parting in surprise, and closing. Your eyes take in his form, in a slow drag, and do a double take, still unable to believe that he really is here.
Seungcheol wrings the soft fabric in his hands, stumped over what to say first. It’s been so long since it has been just you and him, where he can look at you with no restrictions, no fear of someone catching his gaze.
The slow prickle of doubt stabs his heart. His eyes move to your neck, swearing under his breath, why today of all you chose to leave your hair.
You drop your head, your lower lip held hostage between your teeth. Seungcheol licks his lips, taking a step forward.
“Are you seeing someone?” Seungcheol winces at his foot-in-mouth move, and before he can stop himself, “is it Mingyu?”
The tranquility in the air shatters. You snap your head towards him, hurt written all over your eyes, intertwined with a hint of disbelief. You look at his lips once as if to see those words left your mouth and not one of your mind plays.
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head to yourself. Seungcheol holds Clementine’s leash you let go of as you turn away, cupping your face and dragging your hand down your face.
Before he can blink you are already in his face, a thunderous expression accompanying each push to his chest.
Seungcheol staggers back, his eyes widening as his right foot stumbles into his left, slipping his control. Clementine runs away, he tightens his grip on the leash, still taking your hits unable to understand your incoherent babbling.
You grab the lapel of his shirt, dragging him towards you, “you idiot,” you tilt your head, seeing him in the eye for the first time tonight, “you fucking idiot.” You grit your teeth, your nails digging into his skin, hurting, “how dare you—”
“No, no,” you let go of his shirt, walking away, laughing to yourself, “I am the idiot, aren’t I?” Your eyes water, looking at him, “a stupid girl who has been waiting and,” you sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of your sweatshirt against your nose, “you ask me what?”
Seungcheol marches towards you, “some guy?” Even saying the two words makes him want to scrape the disgusting taste off his tongue, “Of no importance?”
You meet him head on, “are you of importance, Seungcheol?” You push his chest again, “huh? Tell me? Are you? I hate you. I hate you so much,” and again, “so much, Seungcheol, I..”
The unshed tears in your eyes sparkle under the flickering yellow streetlamps. You grab the collar of his tee, stretching it from the sheer strength as you pull him closer.
He plays to the strings you pull, creating a harmony that has you two pause, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You sniffle, a lone tear falling down your cheek, and you brush it off so quickly he can’t understand if you are crying from the hurt or anger.
Your voice is barely a whisper, “I..”
Seungcheol traces your features, sidetracking from the emotions he is brimmed with, unable to rein in his urge to trail down his attention from the eyes that look so pretty, sparkling like a constellation, the redness on the tip of your nose and cheeks, before he can reach your lips he circles his arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest, done with the long game you two are playing.
—
You bounce on the mattress, “I am not doing anything with you!” You get on your hands and knees, crawling to the other side of the bed that doesn’t have a man hovering over you. “Mingyu? Mingyu?!”
Seungcheol grabs your ankle, holding you down. He has access to only one part of you and yet you are grabbing onto the bedding with all your strength, struggling to free your leg from him. “Leave, dickhead, leave. Go back to your place, oh wait, you do have a habit of leaving, how can I forget,” you grit out.
“Jieun was stranded, a woman was abandoned,” he has you sliding back to him with one strong pull and you are scrambling across the bed, “would you have left her and continued to fuck me if she has reached out to you? Would you do that to Sohyeon and Mina?”
You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek on the mattress watching him leaning over you.
“Tell me, will you?” His back presses into yours.
His weight knocks out your breath, you bury your face into the soft sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as your body comes alive. It takes a moment for you to remember what you were thinking, or feeling.
“You aren’t getting back with her?”
Seungcheol’s nose brushes side to side against your skin, “no, don’t care about her, even if she’s stranded in fucking Sahara now, I don’t care, not when,” he pulls your sweatshirt down, his fingers tickling as he brushes your hair to the side, baring your neck. His warm lips trail down from your ear, leaving tiny kisses in its pursuit, and stops, his finger pressing into one spot, “hickey, you have a hickey here.”
The growl in his voice invokes the dead butterflies in your stomach. You curl your knees into yourself, or try to, but he is already climbing on top of you, bringing you both to the middle of the bed.
His knees are on either side of your thighs, locking all of your movements to wiggle away from him. His chest presses into your back, teeth grazing around your neck, circling one spot. You press your body into the mattress, his sharp canines invoking thousands of feelings at once. Just the way his existence alone does.
He taps your cheek, a little rough and impatient. You open your eyes, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
“Did you,” he swallows, “did something happen?”
You blink at his face hovering inches away from yours’ as if he can’t exist if he isn’t touching you. The desperation in his eyes is clear as the cloudless sky. It takes several moments for you to understand his question and not think about his chapped lips.
Seungcheol shifts, his hips pressing into your body and retreating as if he is electrocuted. He nudges his nose into your cheek, “hm?”
You grab onto the last of your common sense. “What?”
You swallow before you can drool over the sheets from being squished on the bed, and the awkward angle you are caught in. “Hickey?” You muster all the strength to push yourself up, but he presses down between your shoulder blades. “Seungcheol, I can’t think when you are on me.”
His other hand comes to the spot, brushing over gently, poking a faded memory. “This, where is it from?”
Red fills your vision all over again, burning away the butterflies and jittery feelings. You push him away, finding a sliver of opening, crawling away.
“Yes, its from Mingyu, we made out and fucked. All night long. You want more details? He has a very good stamina,” you sit at the other edge of the bed, “you wanna know how he did it?”
Seungcheol clenches his jaw once, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and he grabs onto your ankle like a shackle. The bedding comes along with you this time as he pulls you into the middle, hoisting you up and throws you down, your head hitting the pillows.
“Shut up.” He growls.
Your ego rears its head. “I bet he fucks good. The best, even.”
Seungcheol is sitting on his knees, hands on his thighs as he watches your lips, suddenly going calm. You should stop. But it only gets ugly.
“I think he can make me cum like no one ever did. Makes me feel good, hitting all the right places. And won’t even judge my kinks..”
Seungcheol gets down the bed, cracking his neck, his back turned towards you. Your heart is in your throat, or in your pussy, you feel it beating everywhere. You have done it. You see the tremble in his hands as he cups his mouth.
“You aren’t with anyone else then.” His voice is low and deep, calm.
You gulp. “I’m with—”
He looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, “yes or no.”
You grab onto the sheets in support, a little scared and a bit excited knowing what’s about to come.
“No..” your own voice is feeble, trembling.
He gives one nod. You watch him move across the room, holding the handle, “Clementine isn’t fed yet right?”
You shake your head. He leaves, closing the door behind him, calling out to your dog lovingly. The switch. He babies her, praising her, you catch the hints of the words and the movement of his feet on the floor.
The brightness in your room makes your skin crawl. It was always dark whenever he is in your room, fucking you. Like a secret that exists only in darkness, and will wither away in light. But tonight he flicked it on when he dragged you here.
What is he planning to do?
The footsteps near your room. You hold your breath, fingers digging into your palm as you watch the door. His voice clearer now, “good night, baby. Let me go and play with your mom a little, okay? If you hear anything, your mom is just having a good time, okay, baby?”
You press your thighs together, an action done so smoothly like breathing, hearing him say those words.
The door knob twists, you are already arching your back, he closes the door behind him and locks it. His messy hair falls over his eyes that are staring at you with no emotion. The anger radiates off his body.
You remember, and you do your best to hold yourself stronger, you are too pissed at him. There’s this burning anger that is waiting for an outlet.
He struts towards the bed, laidback, taking his time. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, setting it down on the nightstand. The ritual starts. Next comes his wallet, there’s hastiness in his movements now. He unbuckles the metal strap of his watch, you await for him to cradle it with care. Your eyes widen as he recklessly puts it down on the wooden surface, climbing the bed in a second as if he can’t wait one more minute.
He pushes you down by your shoulder, straddling your hips. He runs his fingers through his hair, giving you one look at his expression before his hair falls back onto his face.
“What—what are you..” your words die down as he raises his thick eyebrow in challenge for you to complete that question.
Seungcheol moves down, pulls your sweatshirt up to reveal the elastic of your sweatpants. “You were saying,” he clears his throat hoping it helps with his rasp, “you didn’t have your best fuck yet.”
You raise your head from the pillow, watching his fingers brushing against the sliver of your bare skin visible, pushing the sweatshirt a little, revealing your navel.
He holds your thigh, turning you to the side suddenly, and strikes your ass once. “Answer me, did you forget the rules already?”
You mewl, burying your face into the pillow. Another slap. It stings as if your skin is on fire. He massages it, realising he lost control over his strength.
“Must have left a bruise,” he kneads the flesh with a delicacy at first, carrying his apology into his fingers, but the more he continues the stronger his hold becomes, again. You whine. He stops, “sorry, sorry.”
Even without looking you know you’ll see zero remorse on his face.
He releases his hold on you, making you rest on your back, letting you adjust. Your ass aches in the shape of his hand making you wince. His fingers are back to the elastic of your sweatpants, playing with the threads knotted in the middle.
The threads slip through his fingers as he ponders for a moment, “you wanna fuck Mingyu?”
His other hand is on your shoulder even before you can throw a tantrum or a punch. What is wrong with him today? Why is he obsessed with the idea of Mingyu?
“Yes or no.”
He pulls the thread, loosening the knot and drags it until the threads spill free from the binding. He is taking his time, each action crafted with care, gentleness and—he looks up from your pants and into your eyes, waiting—anger.
“Why do you care?”
He blinks at your response, thinking, as if he himself doesn’t know why he cares. You are not with anyone else right now, that’s all should matter. That’s all the equation between you two.
You expect him to drop the topic now. Move on. His fingers slip behind the elastic of your sweatpants, dragging them down, and with one strong pull he yanks it off completely and throws it on the floor.
The room stills. Whatever emotions you two have carried till now takes a back seat as a new one enters. Seungcheol sits back, his palm resting on your thigh, his gaze centered on your core, hunger swirling in them so much that it has him licking his lips.
His eyebrows pull down as he takes in the dark colored panties, his thumb brushing along the curve of your thigh meeting your core. You bend your knee, closing your legs at the sudden sensation, his hand trapped between your legs, restricting his movements.
You should have known you have least control in this room, on this bed, with him. He cups your pussy pushing his agenda despite you trying your best to clamp his hand down. You suppress the moan before it can spill out and give him satisfaction.
You raise your leg, pressing the foot on his chest, putting your all in pushing him away. Seungcheol looks down at your leg, hasn't even moved an inch, your efforts going in vain, he presses the heel of his hand into your pulsating core that hasn’t stopped ever since he started dominating the room again.
You press your face into the pillow right on time, muffling the sounds, not giving him any sort of pleasure. He doesn’t deserve it.
Or so you thought.
His other hand starts its pursuit. You snap your eyes open, your insides scrambling to grasp onto the emotions you have over him, you have been having over the past few weeks, have been simmering in them. He presses the meat of your thigh, then slides down your stretched leg, his lower lip caught between his teeth worsening the already dry cuts on the skin.
It dawns on you. He loves this, your little acts of rebellion.
He holds your ankle, pushing it more onto his firm chest, lets out a small chuckle and pulls it up, kissing once. Your stomach somersaults, or you don’t know, rips open apart from the overwhelming sensations you are feeling. You don’t have much time to dissect the workings of your body as in the blink of an eye, he is gripping your sweatshirt, pulling you up and ordering, “arms up.”
You follow without second thought, too used to do whatever he demands of you, too used to let go of any inhibitions or thoughts or feelings in his presence, let him do what he wants every time. You hold your hands up for him to slide your sweatshirt off.
He pushes your shoulder and throws your clothes somewhere in the room. You are blinking up at the ceiling processing what just happened.
He groans. His eyes are frantically moving across your body, his hand presses down your stomach to the mattress, “stop moving. Let me see.”
“You-you don’t,” you gasp at his hand slipping beneath your panty, “deserve,” his finger is against your core that convulses around nothing, “any—anythimm.”
“Yeah?” The smugness has your skin crawling but his nail delicately drags down your folds that sucks out all of your thoughts. “Deserve nothing?”
You give a weak glare. He doesn’t even care, too occupied by the action going on behind your panties. His nail scratches deliciously inside your folds bordering tickling or torturing you can’t decide.
Seungcheol removes his hand off of you, sliding back a little, his eyes roam all over your body once, his lip caught between his teeth as he tugs your panty down, you jostle, his jaw clenches, both of his hands hold the fabric ripping it in one tug.
You gasp, rising up from the bed to see if he did what you think he did. Seungcheol discards the scrap of your inner wear to the floor, now eyeing your bra.
“You idiot—” he lands another spank on your bare ass, morphing your anger into an unbridled moan. If your ass was stinging earlier, now you see stars dancing behind your eyelids.
“What did you call me?” Seungcheol lands another slap, “hm? Say it again.”
He massages your flesh, the coldness of his rings a stark contrast to your burning skin, “fuck,” he tends to your skin with utmost care, “so fucking soft.”
You whine, eyes fluttering, his hands continue its pursuit, grabbing your thighs, he nudges them apart until he can easily fit between your legs.
The room falls into silence except for your heavy breathing and tiny cries whenever the sheets beneath you rub against your burning skin in the wrong way. Seungcheol bends your knees, pushing your legs further apart, baring you to his watchful eyes.
His gaze strains on your core, his fluffy hair falls onto his face as he tilts his head to get a clearer view, “I’m,” he sounds strangled, pushing your thighs wider, the cold air hits your sensitive opening, “not even doing anything, and yet, you can’t stop convulsing,” his voice gets hoarser, a wet swipe of his tongue across his chapped lips, his breathing gradually turning heavier, and his hand drags up your thigh, settling on your mound.
The attention is getting into your skin, into your head. His want and need drips through his fingers and actions, building a desire in your stomach that crawls its way to everywhere, shaking your core feelings. The way his hands run down your arms and your legs, with a sense of respect, desire and worship makes you feel the most beautiful being in this world. But it is too much. Too much after a period of stagnancy, of inner conflict and feeling out of your skin.
What should one do when they are present with such devotion? A starved person can’t eat it all in spite of wanting it all.
You shut your legs sliding a little higher up the bed, escaping from the hands that are trying to pull you out of your own darkness. It should throw him off, he should be repelled from the fight you are putting in, withholding all of his favorite things. You look down at him, this beast of a man shielding the entire world with his broad shoulders and— why is he looking like a starved man? Why is he following you along crawling on his knees? And why is he—oh.
“Did I ever tell you,” he peels your legs open gently like talking a kid out of hiding, his hand a shackle now holding you open, “how I love your pussy.”
Your eyes flutter at the vulgarity of it, the praise humming under your skin, a moan threatening to spill out and you dig your nose deeper into your soft pillows softening any sound that might escape, your legs shaking from the urge to close your legs shut but his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, not letting you do what you want.
You harrumph, your entire body red, bruised and hot from being bare to his eyes, “Seung..”
His fingers flicker over your mound, a teasing touch as if a soft feather is brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, “such a pretty pussy, baby, look at it, fuck, look at it flutter at nothing. So responsive and so good to me.”
Your back arches, a moan caught in your throat as his nail scratches down your mound to the folds. Your toes dig into the sheets, a flutter of emotions surging past you at the touch. You whine, kicking your feet only for him to seize your movements. Your tantrum is met with his boyish grin. “I have dreams of this, woken up sweaty and so fucking turned on that I had to,” his lips are at your ear, dropping his voice, “you know.”
This devil is enjoying torturing you. To prove your assumptions further, his finger delicately parts your folds, toying with your nub. You whimper, his words and fingers hitting you right on the spot. His eyes shine a new light seeing your mouth part in a silent gasp or plea. The satisfaction in his face reminds you that you are still angry at him, shoving all your feelings into a bin and not giving him what he wants from you.
Seungcheol presses his fingers on your mound, massaging it. You swear you were feeling this burning volcano angriness a moment ago, you look at the man who is watching you with undivided focus, your eyes fluttering from the knuckles that presses into you, moving around your mound, almost as if he is relearning you.
Seungcheol’s breathing feels closer, the ragged sound of it hovering somewhere around you. You remember the bits of bitter feelings you were carrying, you try to hold onto them and not to get lost in the feelings of this man fondling with your folds. Why is it hard to stay mad at him?
“You are pretty in my dreams, so pretty that I have a hard time believing,” his deep rough voice whispers in your ear, “but damn,” he kisses the top of your ear, “you, in my arms, looking at me like I hold stars,” his finger plunges into your opening making you squeak not expecting it, he hums, “making sounds like that looking prettier than anything in this world,” he moves his finger in and out almost touching that one spot that has you seeing stars and moon, “yeah, just like this, you look like a fucking dream, baby.”
You snap your head away from him, biting on your lip, sinking in all your sounds before it can reach his ears. But he is so close. He purrs, that harsh breathing he has from rhinitis, he keeps following tonight as if he can’t stay away. He kisses on your cheek once, adding another finger stretching you open for him later, you whimper at delicious pain.
Seungcheol litters kisses all over your cheek, dragging his chapped skin across your soft skin making you shiver. “What’s this? Why are you stopping yourself?”
The slow drag of his fingers doesn’t help you in withholding. He adds up speed, touching that spongy spot that has you arching your back, your eyebrows knitting together, all you can see is pure white.
Seungcheol shifts, his leg resting over yours, his other hand sliding beneath your head as he pulls you closer to him, fully touching you everywhere. You look at him watching you with rapt attention as he drags you to heaven, a frown line sits between his eyebrows, eyes on your pressed lips.
You must be screaming by now, chanting his name over and over while he reminds you what to call him. Tonight, you are playing this game with him, struggling to keep up, but from the pissed off expression on him you seem to be winning.
“What are you playing at?”
He pulls out his fingers to see if you are gonna resist. You were so close and he snatched it away from you. He hovers over your face, analyzing each twitch of your muscles, you bury your head into his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin.
He snaps his hips against your thigh once, groaning. “What’s wrong?” He prods.
You whip your head away, your nose hitting against his arm that he’s using to hold himself up. His fingers find you again, playing with your entrance giving you shallow thrusts. He is annoyed. You can feel it. You brush your lips against his thick arm, he plunges into your core once before going back to giving shallow thrusts.
You bite onto his arm, your orgasm stirring in your nether region. He is breathing heavily over you, pulling the strings to his own tune and you can’t help but play along.
He hisses when you chomp onto his skin harder at a particular deep thrust. He pulls away his fingers again, you break out into a whine as he steals your orgasm again. He grins, going down on your body.
Before you can even let out all the expletives his mouth is on your pussy, his tongue licking your essence up. Your body keels over as a loud moan escapes the trenches and sits in the room like a fucking win.
Seungcheol looks up from your pussy, “that’s what I want.”
He kisses your folds with utmost admiration, he puts your legs on his shoulders, moving near and near, his tongue dipping into your core. He toys with your clit, flicking it and pulling on it, while his other hand snakes its way underneath your bra, and grabs onto your nipple.
It’s a losing game. You should have known it. His tongue and fingers are relentless in pulling out the delicious sounds he so loves. Your body writhes, begs for a release. He moans into you, lapping up the liquid flowing out of you, his eyebrows raising up at the taste.
You are undeniably close. Every nerve in your body is lit up, thriving and seeking a way out to release all the pent up desire. At one high whine Seungcheol nods, his nose nudging into your folds, you grab his hair pulling, too much, it’s getting too much. He grunts, shaking his head once not liking your request and nudges deeper into you.
“Seungcheol!”
He snaps his eyes open, meeting yours as he bites onto your folds, a warning. You scream at the sting, tugging at his hair hard.
White fills your eyes as you reach your climax at his relentless persuasion. He laps at your release, pushing into your body to not miss a single drop. Your stomach caves in, your body shaking at the pure bliss and pleasure, at the way he sounds so desperate to have it all.
The sounds of him eating you out are lewd to even your own ears. You clamp down on your arm to make it less obscene. Seungcheol pauses on slurping to glare at you, he grabs your hands, holding them hostage as he goes back to get the last drops of your release.
Heavy breaths fill the room, too silent after one rollercoaster ride he took you on. You try to catch your breath, blinking at the ceiling, calming yourself. You feel a delicate kiss pressed to your now probably swollen folds. Your heart swoops in like you just dived into a trampoline. Seungcheol emerges from between your thighs, mouth and chin covered with your arousal as he gently sets your aching legs down on the bed.
He litters kisses on your mound, your belly button, either side on the curve of your waist as he catches his breath and also lets you have a moment. He kisses the underside of your boobs, shaking his head against them, catching a nipple in his mouth, his tongue coming in to greet it. The rustle of jeans has you wide awake, you push his shoulder stopping him from sucking the life out of you.
“Condom.”
Seungcheol, who has been eyeing your nipple that is slick from his saliva, takes a good two minutes to understand what you have just said. “What?”
You inhale shakily, nervousness and determination sitting in the forefront as you repeat, “no condom, no action.”
He sits on his haunches, taken aback, “what? We never,” he gestures his hand between you two, “what? Have you been with someone?”
For a man he has a pea sized brain. “Not me. You.”
“I told you again and again,” he grits his teeth, “that I have not fucked her. Why are you acting like a brat tonight?”
You jut your chin high, “no condom, no action.”
He cups his mouth, glaring at you. You are not backing down, make an excuse and just believe in him. Your ex-boyfriends have made sure you learn the lesson the hard way. There’s no way exes can be friends, acquaintances that won’t find their way to their past. Seungcheol isn’t an exception to the fickle human emotions.
Seungcheol’s eyes roam across your sweaty body, closing his eyes as he groans into his hands. “Such a fucking brat you are today.” He climbs down the bed, grabbing his wallet from your nightstand, he grabs your chin, leaning down, “move an inch, you won’t walk for a week.” He pinches your lower lip before leaving you on the bed with a stinging lip.
—
You crane your neck watching at his buzzing phone that he forgot on the nightstand. You turn to your side watching the black device vibrating against the wood, you pull the comforter till your neck, cuddle into the softness of the cover. How did he forget to take his phone with him? When he comes will he tend to the unanswered calls and messages? Shoving you to last in his priority list?
He has assured you countless times tonight, but words are just words. Actions are what will speak louder than anything. A man who doesn’t want you won’t stop everything to get you what you wanted. Condoms weren’t in the equation ever since you and Seungcheol started this, he was meticulous in easing your worries by providing you his test results after brief break periods you two had.
You could’ve trusted his words, you may have, to some extent, but the anxieties won’t stop whispering and you wanted to piss him off too. The stricken face of his satiates your hunger, it does, but the short pause and his world calling for him, and you are back in square one overthinking your actions. You should have been pliable to him, so he can choose you over everything else, and you would be free from everything.
The door opens. You startle at the door banging shut, and the lock turning. Seungcheol is panting, sweaty and charged. He frowns at your comforter covering you, he walks towards your bed, throwing a black cover onto the nightstand over his phone, “fucking stores are shut. I had to run down the lanes like an idiot,” he pulls the comforter off of your body, the frown eases, he hums, running the back of his fingers down the side of your chest, “had to search through aisles, and when I found them,” he pulls the white tee with sweat patches off, he smiles down at your face, pinching your cheek, “look at you, baby, drooling already, so perfect.”
You reach over, dragging your fingertips down from the pecs to his soft stomach and the trail of hair into his jeans. How did you go without him for a week? The need is burning hot, throwing you into a restless state, you need him, you need his hands on you, touching you, taking places that have you forgetting the world and only remember the aftertaste of his touch. Seungcheol fucking you is the one activity that you love the most, right next to reading. He knows your body so damn well, and his needs align with yours that if there really are soulmates, he would be yours, and you will be his from the way he is getting turned on from your neediness alone.
You just know that he loves fucking you too, no man will be treating you like a delicacy, and also going rough at the same time.
The button on his jeans is undone, you pull the zipper down and look up at him, please.
Seungcheol reads your eyes, his own rolling to the back seeing the desperateness, he rakes his fingers through his hair, his jaw flexing. Control. He picks the black cover and showers boxes upon boxes on to the bed, you pick a random box, fingers moving deftly as you pull a condom out. Seungcheol is shoving his pants and boxer down by the time you are ready to roll it on him.
Seungcheol curls your hair behind your ear as you work the condom onto his erection, “my pretty girl.”
Your hands slip, butterflies erupting in your stomach, you exhale shakily before resuming to complete the task at your hand. Seungchol huffs in amusement, unable to not touch you, his fingers now at your neck, flicking at the marks he left. “But,” he pushes you down on the mattress, climbing over you, his lips hovering over yours, “aren’t you a pretty little brat? Hm?”
Before you can respond, he angles his head kissing your cheek, your nose, “Had me run an entire block with a fucking hard on.”
You moan, closing your eyes as his thigh presses into your core. He presses his cheek against yours, his lips at your ear, “and with you here, naked and wet, waiting for me, tell me, baby, were you waiting for me?”
You nod, his cheek rubbing against your skin, you wince.
He tuts, “words, baby, words, last warning, okay?”
“I-I was.”
“Good girl.”
You circle your hands around his neck, “put it in, please, Seungcheol.”
He leans back against your wishes, you whine, your nails digging into his skin trying to pull him back, “Seungcheol?”
You nod.
He raises his thick eyebrow at your stubborn behavior, “are you playing me tonight? Condoms, not using daddy.” He ponders, his eyes running across your face, a slow grin as he says, “lets play your game, baby, lets see who wins.”
Your heart thumps loudly once, you reach for his smile, tracing it beneath your fingers. “Let’s—” your words cut out into a squeak as he plunges inside you. “That’s foul,” your voice can’t seem to come down from high pitch as he thrusts hard. “Cheo—mmmph.”
The devil smiles.
Your protests breaks into a moan as he bends your knee, opening you wider for him to have more space to fuck you hard. “Slo-slow,” you drag your nails down his back, “that’s not—mmh—that’s not the bet.”
Seungcheol’s eyes are glazed over, he shakes his head, not breaking eye contact, “missed you.” His eyes flutter as you convulse around his cock, “missed you so fucking much.”
He grunts at the way you clasp around his erection, not making it easy for him to move, “fuck, baby, don’t,” his cock pulses inside you, he picked up thinnest fucking condoms, “I missed your pussy, always wet and ready for me,” he moans at particular thrust that meets with resistance as you can’t stop convulsing, “my pretty little dirty player.”
You arch your back, your nipples rubbing against his slick chest making you moan, he growls, his movements faltering at the small sounds of pleasure you let out.
He presses his lips at your ear, “do you hear yourself? Like a fucking angel singing.”
You throw your head back, his praises are hymns bringing you alive. Seungcheol grabs your chin, “look at me.”
He punches in a deep thrust, watching your face into pleasure, tears streaming down your eyes, little squeaks that always follow each thrust of his.
“Da—” you bite your tongue, almost tasting your blood from the sheer force it took to stop yourself.
Seungcheol is on alert, his eyes tracking your emotions, never leaving your lips, doing his best to win this game. He almost did. Almost.
“Brat,” the endearing lilt in his voice has you aching for him, wanting more and more, turning you into greedy and feral.
Seungcheol meets your eyes, watching you watch him. The time freezes in this moment, only you and him existing, you notice the spark in his eyes, the playfulness almost masking his dominance, almost.
His thrusts inside you slowly, each slide accentuating the feel of him inside you. His nose brushes against yours, his mouth open as he breathes heavily. If you just crane your neck a little higher you will finally know how he tastes, how the chapped dry lips feel against yours.
You two are nothing but deflectors. You lean in kissing the mole on his cheek, his elbow gives up, falling on you. You yelp, and Seungcheol laughs, a delicious rasp you want to feel with your hands.
He regains his balance, a sweat droplet travels down his temple, running down his cheekbone, and falls on your lips. You lick your lips, tongue sliding across quickly to get a taste of him.
Seungcheol growls, his thrusts picking up pace, “what should I do with you?”
You are pliant in his arms, letting him pull the chords to his music, and you are enjoying the melody.
There’s a faint buzz. You feel the energy break, apprehensions seep their way like a creeper between cracked cement. Will he?
Seungcheol frowns, feeling the change in the mood, whatever he sees in your face he doesn’t like it. He plays with your nipple, dragging you back to the wonderland he has created only for you. And just like that with few more thrusts and his fingers playing with your nipples, you are coming.
He watches you with rapt attention, his thrusts struggling from your clenching walls, and his lips parted seeing you the way you look at him. As if he brought you the stars.
“Daddy.”
He thrusts once and he is filling in the condom, biting your shoulder waiting for you two to land softly.
—
You are on your hands and knees, gasping for air, drops of sweat falling on the crumpled sheets. The pillows are scattered barely hanging on the edge of the bed, you scoff to yourself finding yourself in the same state as the pillows, just hanging there, you pull yourself up, your elbow shaking almost falling face flat onto sheets that are pulled out from the sheer strength you held on them and the man who didn’t hold back from taking you in every angle.
It’s gonna take a hell lot of time to bring your room back to its clean state.
A thunk sound has you looking in the direction of a blurry Seungcheol. He is handling his spent condom, his chest heaving like he ran a race and won. If you were sweating, he looks like he just came out of the sauna.
He meets your eyes catching you staring at his ass, a flicker of heat passes between you and you know you are not done yet. He walks over, picking up a stray condom packet from the floor. He tilts his head watching you get back onto your hands and knees as he rolls the condom onto his erection.
He squeezes your ass once, chewing on his lip that is bleeding from being held hostage the entire night, you hear a groan before you reach for a pillow and feel him climb on to the bed and thrusting into you, your scream muffled into the pillow.
The pillow is thrown in the middle by a disgruntled man, your screams answered by your dog barking.
—
The night eases into dawn. It has to be from the hours he spent drilling into you.
You muster your entire strength to move your hips, he holds your waist guiding you and extending strength to reach the orgasm that is almost within your grasp, almost.
“You can do it,” he kisses your neck, honing in on his favorite spot, “one more and we are done, baby.”
You whine, clasping onto his shoulders—he hisses at your nails digging his skin—as you try not to collapse on him, “too much.”
It’s a delicious drag, his cock inside you, making the entire play fun that you want to push yourself and give more and more—he cradles your cheek whispering how pretty you are on top of him—and receive more and more.
If it’s him, you want to do anything and everything.
—
Seungcheol runs his fingers down your hair, whispering sweet nothings as you struggle to stay awake. Your entire body is shaking, spent and so close to collapsing.
“Let me go for a minute, baby,” he kisses your cheek as you whine and clasp your hands around his neck tighter. He chuckles, “just one minute.”
“One minute?” Your voice comes out whiny like a child, all the walls you carefully constructed bulldozed by the man who is trying to suppress his smile. You pinch his back.
Seungcheol laughs into your neck, his hand resting over the curve of your waist, “you are cute, you know that?” He buries his face in your skin, “yes, one minute.”
“You are not leaving me, right?”
He reads the apprehension in your words. “No, just gonna grab pizza.”
“Pizza?”
He nods, “I know you are gonna get weak from using up all your energy, so got you food along with condoms.”
Your pussy clenches around him, Seungcheol groans, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, warning you, “don’t.”
He helps you off of him, and onto the bed before the situation gets out of your hand and he starts fucking you, again.
He is already up, removing and typing up the condom. “One minute. Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Your eyes flutter close, you hear a distant opening of a door and Seungcheol greeting Clementine with enthusiasm. You frown at his upbeat energy, you were not the only one fucking, he did most of it and yet he is full of life.
A hand pats your cheek gently, and a voice calling out to you, you turn to the other side going back to sleep. A raspy laugh followed by a cute and the footsteps recede. You are about to enter the dreamland when you feel a wet cloth between your legs, the ache startling you awake.
“Sorry, sorry,” he tries his best to be as gentle as possible, but you are unable to restrain the cries of pain, “done.”
Your stomach grumbles as the smell of pizza wafts, you turn to the other side following the smell to see the white cardboard on your nightstand.
Seungcheol is back even before you can move your leg to crawl towards the food. He sits against your bed frame, pulling you into his lap, and picks up the comforter from the floor, throwing it over your entangled legs.
You lean against his chest, cheek nestled near his collarbone as you gaze at the food. He snickers, helping you with a slice, holding it to your lips.
Silence sits around you two with him feeding you. Before you can realise it, you are falling asleep, unable to hold yourself awake, slipping into a dream of warm hands holding you that you don’t want to wake up from. Ever.
still thinking about how perfect a flag this is for human space exploration. Shapes and symbols can change meanings between people and cultures currently, let alone hundreds or even thousands of years into the future.
And what is the purpose of placing a flag on a foreign planet? It’s a way to say “we were here.” And the one, immediate symbol that any other human who came to the same spot any number of years later would be able to recognize a human hand. Even if governments change and collapse, we all understand a handprint.
and if you found yourself somewhere where you wanted to mark humanity’s presence, but didn’t have a flag with you? Well, you have your own hand.
soft cuddles with svt after a hard rough night of loving..... i’m broken
A/N: Omg, anon, I hope you take comfort in my take on your request, and I apologize for the wait for my response.
genre: fluff, suggestive?
warnings: mdni, 18+, soft! svt, in love! svt, boyfriend! svt, mentions of fucking you stupid, hints at various positions, hints at multiple rounds, descriptions of trembling legs, marks, hair tugging, scratches, etc.
wc: 2.9k
SEUNGCHEOL - Seungcheol keeps you trapped between him and the bed when his vice grip on your thighs turns softer. You two are both breathless, and his palms slide up to your ankles to gently bring your legs off of his broad shoulders as you try to remember how to form a thought again.
Your legs feel like baby deer when they try to learn to walk for the first time, and it's a little embarrassing how they just flop onto the mattress with a muted thud while Cheol leans back over you.
He takes over your vision, hiding the view of your ceiling with his shoulders, and you're blinking stupidly up at him as he gives you a charming grin in greeting.
That's when he leans down to give you a kiss, wiping any thoughts from your mushy brain as he rolls his tongue over yours before trailing his kisses down your body with slow precision.
He kisses the marks he's littered all over your body, all the way down to your sternum, and then that's where he stays. He weighs his body down on top of yours, making a home between your shaking legs, and it's like you have whiplash when he gives you a loving stare from his big brown eyes.
He doesn't have to speak for you to know what he's thinking; his fingers that caress your hips and up your ribcage tell you that he's a little worried he was a little too rough this time around, but you're humming with satisfaction, combing your fingers through his hair as he rests his head over your stomach, holding you like you're his personal teddy bear, cuddling you close as he tells you he loves you.
JEONGHAN - Jeonghan kisses each of your wrists with soft kisses before he rubs his palms up your arms. He knows your arms have to be sore because he's held them behind your back most of the night.
Your legs are still trembling when he finally slips away from you, and you're barely hearing the soft noises he coos as he gets you to roll onto your back. You're marked all over, and Jeonghan is almost tempted to take a photo of how pretty you look with his teeth marks on your breasts and bruises on your inner thighs, but it's more important to him that you focus your pretty eyes on him.
Your eyes are a little glossy, and it's truly his fault, but his grin says he's not remorseful in the slightest. Instead, he lies on his side, cuddling into you as he traces his fingertips up and down your body.
"Did so well for me, my love." He praises, and you're all but putty in his hands as he brings you from your gooey thoughts. Actually, it's more like no thoughts because that's usually how he makes you when he's finished, and when you're finally blinking up at him, his smirk is soft - loving - as he hums. "There's my love. You feel good?"
JOSHUA - Joshua pulls you to his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses your forehead softly. "You did so good for me," he murmurs, and his fingers run down your back in slow swirls as you snuggle in closer after hearing the praise.
His touch becomes softer, gentler, the complete opposite of what it was mere minutes ago when he had fingers in your hair and a rough grip on your hip to keep you in place.
Now, his hands massage your muscles, holding you close as he gives you kiss after kiss on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead. It makes you feel warm from your head all the way down to your toes as you tilt your head up to look at him.
And when he says "I love you," you can see it in his eyes, the way they soften as his nose nudges against yours while you meet him halfway for another slow kiss.
"I love you, too." You murmur and feel the way he tries to pull you closer, like somehow you weren't already more intertwined than you could be.
JUN - Jun peppers you with kisses, praising you in between each one he places on your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead. The once strong grip he had on your ankles all but disappears as your wobbly legs slip from his shoulders, and the smile he gives you should give you whiplash.
Jun has gone completely 180 from fucking you stupid to doting on you like the sun actually sets on you, as you come down from your latest orgasm. Your thighs won't stop trembling, and your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth, but Jun's hands work your muscles like he's a professional masseuse.
He's careful not to touch the marks he's left on you, and when the ringing in your ears subsides, you realize he's blabbing praise to you as he lifts your leg up to gently kiss your inner ankle.
It makes you clench around nothing pathetically, and you're all but pulling him back over you as you wrap your legs around his waist.
Your actions make him laugh softly, and he doesn't get to see you blush as you bury your face in his chest, but that's fine because he simply rolls you both to your sides, keeping you close against him as he kisses the top of your head, murmuring a sweet, "I love you" into your hair.
HOSHI - Soonyoung's touch becomes gentle almost instantly, even before his cock has had the chance to soften up inside of you. He lets go of your wrists he's had pinned above your head, and instantly rubs his palms down your body like worship.
His fingertips trace the curves of you, the little bite he placed on your shoulder, another bite mark just under the swell of your breast, and his eyes seem a little glossy with admiration and love as he praises you. "You were made for me, my love." He states it as a fact, and your legs twitch around his waist as he squeezes your hips like a stress ball, the cute aggression too much to handle for him. "Fuck, you're perfect."
The words make you laugh, and your hands push on Hoshi's chest as he gives you a big smile. "Shut up," you dismiss, but Soonyoung doesn't allow it.
"No. I mean it: you're perfect, perfect to me." He doubles down on the praise, and before you can process it, he's rolled you two around so he's splayed on his back with you on top of him. He wraps his arms around your back, forcing you to cuddle him, and another giggle escapes you.
"I love you." You giggle, and Hoshi makes a noise while he pinches your side with an incredulous huff.
"Hey, that's my line!"
WONWOO - It's dark in your bedroom when Wonwoo's touch becomes softer. He still grabs you firmly, pulling you into him with the sheets wrapped around your waist, but he follows the action with a sweet kiss to your lips. "You did so good for me," he praises low against your lips, and a shiver runs down your spine in response.
Your body is soft, thoroughly spent, and pliant as he pulls you to lie half on top of him. You're both breathing a little hard after your latest orgasm, and if the lights were on, you'd see that one of the pillows is on the floor, and his forehead is lined with sweat as your body hums a frequency that makes your toes tingle.
"Are you okay? Was I too rough, my love?" Wonwoo asks while his hands map their way down your body with soft squeezes that end up making you giggle because it would be Wonwoo who would fuck you like he hated you, only to end up caressing you like you were his alter he chose to worship at.
"Yes, and yes." You muse, and Wonwoo's hands pull you closer, his mouth finding yours even in the darkness of the night. "I loved it, though. Do you feel better letting it all out of your system?"
Wonwoo answers your question with another kiss, his hands already pulling you the rest of the way on top of him as a response.
WOOZI - Woozi isn't a man of many words; his love comes from his actions, so when you two catch your breath, he's gentle as he pulls away from you. His eyes are soft and full of love as he gives you a kiss before he goes to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth.
When he returns, you're still lying there, perfect as ever, and he tells you as much when he leans down to give you a sweet kiss.
He makes sure you're okay by cleaning up the mess he made of you with a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He gets to watch the blur in your eyes clear up as time goes on, and he gently drags the washcloth over your body, taking note of the finger-shaped bruises he made on your thighs and on your hips.
After he throws the washcloth into the hamper, he holds you close, tucking your head into his chest while his fingers card through your hair.
You two lie together, with you cuddled into his side as you listen to his heartbeat steady. Thump, thum-thump, thump. You feel the way your heart rate syncs to his, your head rising in time with each breath he takes, and the silence you two share is soothing. There aren't many words exchanged in the silence, but Woozi holds you protectively, tracing the unspoken words of "I love you" along your back, making you feel warm all over.
MINGHAO - "Don't move," Minghao orders, and he all but tucks you into him like you could somehow feel your legs after what he's done. Your body hums like an electrical current, and your eyes blink the blurriness you've got away as Minghao's chest presses into your back.
Both of you are breathless, and you aren't sure if it's his heartbeat that you can feel racing or if it's your own. All you do know is that you feel sore in the best way possible, and you're smiling stupidly because of it.
You know the blankets are somewhere on the floor in a heap, and your legs tangle with his as you feel his head rest on the back of your shoulder, and you don't move.
Instead, you focus on the way he kisses the back of your neck softly, the way his hand snakes up to cup your neck again. He doesn't grab it roughly like he did minutes ago when he had your eyes rolled to the back of your head; this time, it's softer, resting gently so he can feel your racing heart sync to his, and he repeats himself again. "Don't move."
He says it tenderly, quieter, almost like a plea, and you don't have to look over your shoulder to know he's smiling before he places a kiss on your shoulder, holding you close as you snuggle back into him.
MINGYU - Mingyu's entire body weight sinks on top of yours, and both of you groan in unison before laughing a little. You feel like you've run a marathon, and you might as well have, with the way Mingyu tossed you around the last few hours. Actually, you're not sure how long, but you know your body is still vibrating from the way Mingyu manhandled you mere minutes ago, and now that Mingyu's rolled to the side, you shiver in pleasure as he pulls you to his chest with ease.
"I love you," Mingyu confesses with a grin, and you roll your eyes playfully as he looks at you with his big, sparkly brown eyes. He looks at you like he's falling for you for the first time all over again, and his hands that were once holding you down now rub your back with soft swirls, soothing you, coaxing you to tilt your head up.
When he dips his head down to give you a kiss, you're already meeting him halfway, and you kiss him back slowly, melting into his arms as you tell him "I love you" in between the shared kisses. Your cheeks are rosy, your mind is warm and fuzzy, and Mingyu has you flushed against his body as he squeezes you by the hips.
He continues kissing you, murmuring praises against your lips, and you're putty in his hands, preening under his sweet words as he holds you close.
DK - When you've all but melted into the bed underneath you, Dokyeom's following suit, instantly softening his touch as you tremble underneath him from your latest orgasm.
His hands let go of your waist, moving up to settle on the bed right by your head, and you watch his head lower with a breathless laugh when you give him a playful hair tug. He's caged you between him and the mattress, pressing his chest against yours, and the once-roughness with which he handled you is gone as he kisses the curve of your neck with small adoring pecks.
You two try to catch your breath in the aftermath, and your ears stop ringing just enough for you to hear him as he apologizes with a bashful tone.
He's back to giving you soft eyes and a sheepish smile as he traces his fingertips down your sides, mapping out the marks he's left all over you in the heat of the moment, and you're quick to pull him into a kiss to let him know it's okay.
You two continue to kiss as he settles back over you, grounding you to him while your tongue rolls over his. And you two stay like this for a long time, cuddling close while wearing matching smiles as you take your time to say "I love you" in between the sweet kisses you two share.
SEUNGKWAN - Seungkwan's roughness immediately softens the moment your body melts into his.
Your thighs tremble, your hands shake, and his arms wrap around your back to keep you flush against his chest as he talks you through it. He murmurs praise low in your ear, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach, and you're clutching onto him as he says, "That's it, let it all out for me."
His fingers card through your hair, softly but firmly, massaging your head, and your body hums pleasantly as he places a kiss on your forehead before dragging his palms down your sides. You can feel the little ache on your scalp from where your hair was pulled, and the bruises that will form on your hips from where he held you earlier, but none of that matters when he pulls you into a loving kiss.
His hands massage your thighs lightly as you smile between the shared kisses, and when he tells you he loves you, you can feel it in the way he holds you closer, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as he cuddles you closer.
VERNON - "You're okay, right?" Vernon asks as you run your fingers along his scalp, massaging his head as he tucks himself into your side.
His fingers are tracing a bruise that's blooming on your hip, and you watch the way his eyebrows furrow a little in concern. The bruise is shaping to the size of his fingertips, which shouldn't be surprising since he was the one who made them when he had you on your hands and knees.
"M'little sore," you muse, and Vernon's kissing your collarbone as he squeezes your thigh, bringing it over his hip as you continue. "But the good kind of sore, an ache that's wanted."
Vernon moves on to kiss just above your breasts, making his way up to your neck as you lightly tug his hair, an indication you don't want him to stop.
When his lips brush along your jaw, your eyes are already closed, and your lips are curved up in a beautiful smile. It makes him pause, his own lips tilting up as he takes you in. "Yeah? You feel good, my love?"
He says it with a playful tone that makes you roll your eyes playfully in response, and you giggle when he pulls you closer, bringing you flush against him.
DINO - "I love you," Dino confesses, breathless and with an exhausted smile. His chest heaves with a full heart dedicated to you, and you're boneless underneath him, much to both of your amusement.
The sheets tangle just as you both do. Dino hooks your leg over his, and your head rests on his bicep, and neither of you comments on the fact that you should probably change the sheets and take a shower.
You're both covered in sweat; he's got red angry lines down his back, and you can feel the bruises forming on your thighs, but it's okay, it's good, even. The kind of good you know you'll feel days later.
Dino wraps a heavy arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, and his nose nudges your chin while his dark brown eyes look up at you with a reverence that should make you blush - but from what you two just finished doing mere minutes ago, you're already rosy in the cheeks, so you settle on a bashful smile that makes his grin grow bigger.
"I love you," he says again and again, kissing his way up to your lips as you melt into his embrace, loving that he repeats it until you're giggling and softly saying it back to him.
대박 - you made it to the end.
Tell me about it.
Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and that helps writers like me reach more people. Thank you for your support!
Pairing: bf!lee chan x f!reader (could be read as gender neutral as well, i just had a female reader in mind while i wrote)
Summary: you try to cancel a date with your new boyfriend after struggling with a bad acne breakout.
WC: 0.9k
CW: stupid tooth aching fluff. kisses. there is absolutely nothing wrong with acne and everyone is BEAUTIFUL despite it. chan is a great bf and really reiterates this to help reader’s insecurities. pet names (chan calls reader ‘pretty’, so no use of y/n).
A/N: i def got this idea bc i currently have a terrible acne breakout and am feeling INSECURE! so anyway uh here’s this silly drabble - dividers by @strangergraphics
It’s not often you have a bad acne breakout. And right now, as you get ready for a date with the man you’ve been seeing for a few weeks, you’re in full panic mode. Dotting all over your face are red, painful spots that just won’t go away.
For the past week, you’ve tried everything. Pimple patches, special face wash, different face masks, creams…you’re almost convinced you somehow made it worse. To top it all off, concealer and foundation doesn’t even seem to hide it, either. Truthfully, in the long run, those would probably just make it even worse anyway. If that’s even possible.
But you can’t show up to your date like this. You like Chan…like, a lot. If you show up like this, what if he thinks you don’t properly take care of your skin? Or he thinks it’s gross? You haven’t quite crossed the threshold of bare-faced dates, yet. And you definitely didn’t want to start tonight.
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you’re quick to dial his number. It rings twice before he’s answering.
“Hey, pretty!” He exclaims. “Everything okay?”
“No.” You groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I think I need to reschedule.”
Chewing on your bottom lip, you consider telling him the truth. But really, the truth feels quite ridiculous. For crying out loud, who cancels over acne? You quickly suck in a deep breath.
“Ah, I just don’t feel very good.” You lie. Which, in hindsight, it’s not a total lie. Thinking about this date while you look like this is making your stomach turn over itself. “I just…really want to stay in tonight.”
Chan hums. “What if I come over there?” He suggests. “I can bring comfort food and we can just chill? Watch some movies?”
Panic washes over you. “No, no,” You quickly stand. “I’d feel really bad making you do all that—“
“You shouldn’t.” He gently interjects. “I’m offering. You’re not making me do anything. Unless there’s another reason you don’t want me over?”
Pressing your eyes closed, you suppress the groan that bubbles inside of you. Now you just feel bad. He’s being so kind, and you can’t exactly push him off without him thinking he’s done something wrong. He hasn’t done anything wrong—he’s perfect. You really don’t want to mess this up, especially over some acne.
Besides, surely there’s a way to hide it from him. Right?
“No, I’d love to see you.” You finally sigh. “Thank you, Chan.”
“Anything for you.” He coos. “Give me an hour, ok? I’ll see you soon.”
When Chan knocks on the door, you feel your heart trip over itself. And probably fall down two flights of stairs, as well.
Your hand hesitates on the handle before you open the door. He looks cozy, wearing his sweats and hoodie that you’d gotten for him a few weeks prior. In his hands, he holds a few bags with snacks inside of them. Chan’s grinning, but it immediately falters when he sees what you’re wearing.
“A mask?” He frowns as he steps inside. He sets his plethora of grocery bags on the table as you close the door again. “Why is your hood pulled up?”
“I just,” you pause, “don’t want you to see my face.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. Pressing his lips together, he folds his arms across his chest. As he steps towards you, your breath catches in your throat. When he raises his hand towards your hood, you try to step to the side. He stops you, though.
“What’s going on?” He asks softly.
“Chan, I have acne.” You whine. “Bad. It’s everywhere. I look awful.”
A laugh bubbles out from him. “Is that why you wanted to cancel?”
You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Yes,” you mutter. “We haven’t been seeing each other for very long. I just didn’t want you to think—“
“You’re still beautiful to me.” He interrupts. “Acne or no acne. It’s part of being human, pretty. Now, can I please see you?”
You roll your eyes. Tentatively, you pull your hood down, and peel the mask off your ears. Before you can try to turn away anymore, Chan cups your face in his hands. His thumbs brush across your cheeks as he grins.
“Beautiful.” He promises.
Then, he kisses your forehead. He presses another small kiss to your temple, your cheeks, and then you realize…
“Are you kissing my pimples?” You can’t help but laugh as you try to squirm out of his hold. He doesn’t let you budge, though, as he wraps his arms around your waist.
“Mhm.” He kisses your nose. “Just reminding you that every part of you is beautiful. Besides, kisses make everything better. Right?”
You scoff. “You’re so corny.”
“If you hated it that much, you would’ve stopped seeing me after date one.” He winks. “Now, should we start our movie night?”
Sighing dramatically, you grab hold of the strings on his hoodie. “You forgot a spot though.” You pout, then pucker your lips out.
“Ohhh,” he nods. “My god, how could I?”
You giggle as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. He pulls away just barely, his eyes flicking up to yours.
PAIRING: Jester!Jeonghan x Princess!Reader
SUMMARY: You've spent your entire life hiding behind the mask of a princess, forced to perform perfection at every moment. There is a single person who see's beyond your mask, but you see beyond his too - and you don't think the jester is as harmless as everyone thinks.
WC: 6,244
AU: Royalty, Implied Magical AU
GENRE: Smut
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
WARNINGS: Mild mentions of what's proper/what's not in a royal society, reader being frustrated and having repressed feelings of desire and arousal, sexually explicit content featuring vaginal fingering, some mild dirty talk, mild biting, mild exhibitionism (hooking up where anyone could find them), the use of pet names (love / good girl), Jeonghan being a bit of a menace, some magical ambiguity at the end re: Jeonghan, he's kinda a weird lil guy in this I don't know how to explain it, he's implied to be dangerous but he doesn't do anything necessarily scary on paper.
A/N: This is for my milestone request for @gimmegoodname! And part 8348934 of Hali doesn't know how to keep to a reasonable request word count :) Thank you jesus for landing on Jester and Jeonghan - this actually is not at all what I originally intended to write but fuck it we ball because the other idea would have taken me aprox 40k words lmfao
AN 2: This is not beta read so I’m sorry - there will definitely be mistakes! I did proof read/spelling and grammar check but I often miss a lot!
MAIN M. LIST | ASK | FOR MY MILESTONE EVENT
ORANTE PARTIES ARE PERHAPS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE RESPONSIBILITY AS A PRINCESS.
The castle's grand ballroom has been transformed into a glittering display of excess, the crystal chandeliers reflecting torchlight and dappled shadows across polished marble floors, the heavy velvet drapery covering the walls in hues of crimson and midnight blue - all of it tailored to make the inside of the room feel like something from another world.
You hate every inch of it. You hate the weight of your gown and its scratchy material, you hate how you can feel the bone stitching of the corset digging into your ribs, you hate the brittle laughter and the clink of crystal goblets, the venomous whispers behind delicate gossamer fans. Most of all, you hate the way every eye in the room seems to track your every movement, measuring you, judging you, waiting for the perfect princess to make a single mistake so they can talk about it with practiced smiles.
A bard stands at the center of the hall, his fingers dancing over the strings of a lute as he sings a soulful ballad of lovers lost in the heat of one another, of stolen touches and a kind of passion you'll never understand. You wonder what it might be like to experience something like that, to be touched by someone who wants you so badly they risk everything, to have hands on your skin that aren't bound by protocol and propriety. To do something dangerous and sinful, to have someone hold you the way those lovers in the song held each other, with urgency and desire instead of duty.
You'll never be that, of course. You are forever bound to this kingdom where the entire world is your stage, where you must remain untouched and controlled, and you're constantly expected to perform.
You're not the only one performing tonight, of course. You're halfway through a painfully boring conversation with the Lord of Coin regarding taxes when a burst of laughter cuts through the murmur of the party. Your gaze drifts against your will toward the small crowd forming near the arched windows, and though you can't see the man at the center of their attention, you know he's there.
The court jester's voice drifts toward you, mischief wrapped in pretty velvet clothes and a silly hat. You'd seen him earlier tonight, dressed in his best midnight blue velvet doublet and matching pants, little crystals stitchy to the fabric to make it look like he's lost in a midnight sky. His eyes had been filled with particularly vicious mischief when they'd landed on you, but your father had whisked you away to greet the Lady of Harvest before the fiend could slink your way.
Jeonghan is a fiend. You are perhaps the only person at court who thinks behind the practiced smiles, card tricks and juggling that there's something far more dangerous, but you've never been able to convince anyone of it. And why should anyone agree with you? Jeonghan is favored among the court for his wit, rhymes and tricks, thrilling the men and charming the women as he slides through each party like smoke, taking the shape of whatever his audience desires most.
A fresh wave of laughter erupts from his audience, brighter and more genuine than anything else you’ve heard tonight. It makes your skin itch and you turn away from the crowd, focusing back on the conversation at hand and determined not to let Jeonghan ruin your night like he does at most parties, determined to vex you and make you feel affronted and flushed and-
No.
You shove him from your mind as the conversation drags on while you sip spiced wine from your glass. As the Lord of Coin talks, you wonder what it would be like to leave this room. To go get somewhere lost in the city below. To fall into the bed of someone who would touch you like the lovers in the bard’s song, someone who smells like sandalwood and smoke and whose smile is sharp and familiar.
For now, you stay put and keep your eyes on the lord in front of you, ignoring the growing laughter coming from Jeonghan's corner. You hate that he enthralls them so - hate that even though you’re suspicious of him, he charms you in his own way, worming into your thoughts on lonely days, leading your mind astray to wonder how it is he does those tricks of his.
Your father appears suddenly, the Lord of Coin fumbling over whatever he was saying about inflation as the king puts a hand on your shoulder, grinning jovially. "Lord Hastings, forgive me, but I'm here to steal my daughter and spoil her with the fun part of the night!"
"Of course, Your Majesty!" Lord Hasting bows. "Thank you for the conversation, Your Highness."
"The gratitude is all mine, Lord Hastings," you nod, letting your father spin you away as dread knots in your stomach.
The crowd near the arched windows opens up as you approach, the members of the court bowing as you and your father approach the entertainment. Torchlight flickers on their faces, showing how flushed with delight they are as they watch the spectacle in front of them. Jeonghan stands in the middle of the, his midnight doublet fitting him perfectly as the crystals sparkle with his every movement.
Though the jester hat might look silly on anyone else, Jeonghan makes it look fashionable. His long, dark hair frames his angelic face, all sharp cheekbones and carefully sloped nose. His dark eyes find yours immediately, flashing as he grins. Your heart skips a little but you remain uneffected, staring at him as he juggles three daggers for the crowd as they ooo and ahhh at him.
You watch as the blades flash in the torchlight, each one caught cleanly while people gasp and clap. A lady nearby giggles behind her fan just as Jeonghan makes the daggers disappear into his sleeves with a quick motion. The crowd claps as he grins and bows politely, his dark eyes finding you again.
Irritation simmers, your gaze locking onto his and holding it. While everyone seems impressed, your instincts scream danger, wolf in fool’s clothing. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards as he steps toward you, the smell of his sandalwood and smoke clinging to him.
"Your Highness," he greets smoothly. "You look bored. Let me change that."
You say nothing but your father claps, his laughter booming as Jeonghan starts his performance. Cards fly from his hands in quick patterns and your attention is drawn upward as they flit through the air. He dances away from you and leans toward Lord Jeon, plucking a card from behind his ear before flicking his hand and turning it into a coin. The crowd laughs and claps as you stand there stiffly, watching as he charms his way through the nobles until he comes back toward you.
Jeonghan stops in front of you and holds out his hand, bowing slightly at the waist. The crystals on his double clink together as you stare at him, your stomach twisting when he looks up at you through his dark, silky lashes. To anyone else, the look might be reverent, but you see it for what it is - hunger.
"For the best trick tonight, I need a volunteer," he murmurs. The crowd claps excitedly and when you glance at your father, the king urges you forward, excited. “Your Highness, would you do me the honor?”
Swallowing thickly, you place your hand in Jeonghan's. His skin is warm, sending a spark of heat up your arm as he guides you toward the center of the circle where he spins you in a twirl, the skirts of your dress flaring. The lords and ladies clap, delighted and shouting how beautiful you look, how wonderful their princess is. Jeonghan’s touch lingers a moment longer than necessary before he grins and lets go, eyes glued to you as he circles you like a wolf might its prey.
When he stops, he leans close enough that you can see the silver threading in his collar and the way his sleeves are tailored to allow free movement, probably full of pockets for all of his cards and daggers and other baubles he uses for his performances. He's close enough that the sandalwood and spice makes your lashes flutter, making you think of something dark - not at all the cheery jester he claims to be.
"Try not to look so afraid," he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear him. "The court might think you're afraid of a simple card trick."
"I'm not afraid," you snap.
"No? Then why is your pulse racing?"
You grimace. Ever the observationalist, seeing far more than anyone ever dares to give him credit for.
"Do your trick, jester," you growl.
Jeonghan grins as he produces a deck of cards from one of his sleeves, fanning them out again. "Choose any card but don't show me, love."
Ignoring the casual way he uses a pet name entirely unfit for his station, you select a card from the middle of the deck and when you flip it, you see the seven of swords. You angle it away from him, eyes darting between him and the card. His eyes watch you closely, the heat of them making you fight off a shiver.
"Show the crowd, I'll look away. Cross my heart and hope to die."
You roll your eyes when he turns his back to you. The crowd leans in as you flip the card, showcasing the front to them all. They all nod excitedly, tittering behind hands and fans until you flip the card back around, holding it close to your chest and away from Jeonghan.
"Good," he says when he turns back around, tucking the deck away in one of his sleeves. "Put the card against your palm, card face down."
You follow his instructions, holding your palm out with the card face down to conceal the seven of swords. Jeonghan reaches for your hand, his fingers warm as he presses his palm on top of yours, the card firmly kept between both of your hands. You hate the way your skin responds to the contact, the way the sudden awareness of him prickles up your arm.
"Do you trust me?" he murmurs.
"Hardly."
"Clever." He guides your pressed palms upward so that you're both holding the card between you, each of your hands pressing forward with equal force. "Good girl. Keep your hand steady."
A snarl works its way to your lips at the pet name, but before you can snap at him for the impropriety, Jeonghan shuffles closer and the crowd goes quiet. You realize how far away they seem, the sound dull like it's on the other side of a bubble. Jeonghan is close though - so close you have to tilt your chin up to look up at him, his eyes glittering as they watch you.
"You're quite good at playing a dutiful princess," he notes.
"You know nothing about me."
"Don't I?" His eyes search yours, and there's something sharp in his gaze, something that cuts through the fool's mask he wears. "I know you watch everything. I know you see more than you let on. I know you're the only person in this room who looks at me and wonders what I'm really doing here."
Your heart pounds harder, the rhythm so forceful you're certain he can see it in the pulse at your throat. He's far too close and far too observant for a mere jester. The air between your palms feels charged, almost electric, and you're acutely aware of every inch of space he occupies. You want to step back, to put distance between you and whatever game he's playing, but the crowd is watching and so is the king. So you look onward, staring at him as he smirks.
"Breathe," Jeonghan says, softer now, and there's something almost gentle in his tone that makes it worse somehow. "You're holding your breath, love."
“Stop calling me that.”
"Nervous?"
You glare. "No."
His grin widens a fraction. "Liar."
The word hangs between you, intimate and dangerous. No one else speaks to you like this. No one else would dare, but Jeonghan isn't like the others at court. He refuses to be cowed by your title and your cold shoulder, protected by the silly little performance he puts on, convincing others that he's a fool. It gives him a freedom that feels threatening, and you're the only one who seems to notice.
The hand that isn't pressed against yours moves, tracing a slow circle in the air around where your palms are joined. The movement is hypnotic, and you find yourself following the movement, watching as he repeats the motion a few times. For a moment, you feel a little hazy, eyes fluttering as your thoughts grow foggy. Then, your mind sharpens again, Jeonghan’s intense gaze coming into focus.
"Picture your card," he instructs, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "Imagine exactly what it looks like - the edges, the images. The way it's shaped. The colors used, the details of the card face."
You think of the seven of swords, trying to focus on the image of it, trying to use it as an anchor against the way your pulse races. It's difficult to do so with the warmth radiating from his palm and the way his breath stirs the air between you. He's close enough that you can count every one of his eyelashes and see the way his dark eyes catch the light from the chandeliers overhead.
As you try and picture the curling red numbers on the card and blue paint of the swords, you let your eyes flit over his sleeves. His hands. His pockets. You try to work out what exactly the charade is, ready to catch him in his trickery. You always try, and you always fail, never quite able to pin down the source of the performance.
"You're thinking about the card," he says, dropping his voice again so only you can hear. "But you're also thinking about how I'm doing this. Trying to work it out. Trying to catch me." You don't answer, feeling the heat hit your chest and cheeks as you flush under being caught. Jeonghan smirks, nodding. "You also don’t like being caught. Are you afraid of what I'll see when I look at you?"
"You see nothing, jester."
"Untrue." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. "I see someone who's hungry to be wanted. Someone who wants to be touched like those lovers in the ballad the bard was singing, with heat and urgency and desperate desire. Someone who wishes there was a person bold enough to touch her the way a princess is never supposed to be touched. To want her not because of the crown but despite it." His eyes glint with something darker. "And I see someone who looks at me and knows exactly what I am. A wolf in fool’s clothing, right?”
You want to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. You hate that Jeonghan is right and that he sees through you as easily as you see through him. There's a part of you that's always craved this kind of understanding, someone who could look past the crown and what lies beneath, but not like this. Not from him.
Being known by Jeonghan feels like standing naked before a predator, and the worst part is that you're not entirely certain you want to cover yourself. Your chest tightens with the contradiction of it, the simultaneous ache to be truly seen and the primal need to hide from his gaze.
"Now," Jeonghan says, and his voice drops again, intimate and teasing. "I'm going to find your card without ever touching the deck again. Without you saying a word." He leans in, just slightly, and you can feel the whisper of his breath against your temple, warm and deliberate. Your skin tingles where it touches. "Would you like to know how?"
You can't answer. Your throat has gone tight, and you're frozen there, caught between the urge to pull away and the strange, unwanted pull that keeps you rooted in place.
"I'm going to read your mind," he murmurs, and his lips are so close to your ear now that you feel each word as much as hear it. "I'm going to look into those careful, guarded eyes and see exactly what else you're hiding."
Your hands are shaking now, both of them, and you know he can see it. The crowd can probably see it too, but they likely think it's part of the act, part of the performance. They don't know that your heart is hammering so hard it hurts, that every nerve in your body is screaming at you to move, to step back, to break whatever spell he's weaving.
"It's the seven of swords," Jeonghan says, and his voice is soft enough to raise the hair on your arms.
Your eyes widen before you can stop yourself, before you can school your expression into something more controlled. The reaction is instinctive, damning, and you see the exact moment he registers it. See the satisfaction that flickers across his face.
"There it is," he murmurs, so quietly that you almost don't hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. "That's what I wanted to see."
Suddenly he steps back, and the loss of his proximity should be a relief but instead feels like an absence. His hand that was mirroring yours drops away to reveal that the card that was pressed between your palms is no longer there. You frown, mouth falling open slightly as he reaches toward your face. You go still as his fingers brush the edge of your jaw, feather-light and deliberate. It's barely contact at all, the barest whisper of his fingertips against you, but you feel it everywhere.
When he pulls his hand away, he's holding a card between two fingers, flicking it to show you the seven of swords. The crowd erupts in applause and delighted exclamations, the sound washing over you while you stare at him. You want to know how he did it, to know what you missed. Had his whispers distracted you from when he placed it there? Was it a trick of the light?
"Your Highness," Jeonghan says, and his voice is pitched for the crowd now, all performance and charm. He bows deeply, flourishing the card. "Thank you for your assistance."
When his eyes meet yours again, they tell a different story. They say he knows exactly what effect he's had on you. That he planned it, wanted it, enjoyed watching you unravel. It makes you step back, putting necessary distance between you as your heart hammers, your pulse deceiving you.
You excuse yourself as soon as the opportunity presents itself, your father turning to another lord as he laughs about something and the crowd pressing around Jeonghan, cutting him off from you. No one notices when you slip away from the gathered nobles, picking up the skirts of your dress as you rush for the exit, skin overheating.
Cool night air washes over you as you step into the gardens and away from all the noise and eyes. The sound of the ballroom has long since faded behind you, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft trickle of water from the fountain somewhere deeper in the garden. You inhale deeply, letting the scent of roses and night-blooming jasmine fill your lungs, trying to steady the frantic beating of your heart.
The gardens are empty. Everyone is inside, drinking and dancing and watching Jeonghan perform his tricks. Out here, there's only moonlight filtering through the branches overhead, casting everything in silver and shadow. The paths wind between tall hedges and rose bushes, their blooms pale in the darkness. Your footsteps are quiet on the stone walkway as you move deeper into the maze, away from the ballroom, away from the noise and the eyes and the suffocating weight of your crown.
You walk without direction, letting your feet carry you past marble statues and flowering vines that climb the garden walls. The moonlight catches on the petals of white roses, making them glow like ghosts. Everything is still and quiet, peaceful in a way the ballroom could never be.
Out here, you can think. Out here, you can try to make sense of what just happened.
Except you can't make sense of it. Can't explain why Jeonghan's proximity affected you so deeply, why his whispered words felt like they were carving themselves into your skin, why the loss of his touch left you aching in ways you don't want to examine. You barely know him. You don't trust him. And yet-
"Running away, Your Highness?"
You spin around, heart leaping into your throat to see Jeonghan standing in the middle of the path behind you as though he's materialized from the shadows themselves. His little hat is nowhere to be found, dressed only in the velvet outfit with crystals glittering like stars. The moonlight above catches in his dark hair, turning it silver at the edges. His eyes gleam, and you become hyperaware of the unnatural quiet of his presence.
"I needed air," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Mm." Jeonghan takes a step closer, his movements fluid and unhurried. "Or you needed to escape me."
You don't answer - can't answer, because he's right and you both know it. He moves closer still, slow and deliberate, and you suddenly feel like he's a wolf giving the sheep time to run if it wanted to. You don't run, your feet planted to the stone path even as your pulse hammers in your throat, even as every instinct screams that you should walk away.
"You know," Jeonghan says conversationally, stopping just within arm's reach, "most people can't wait to be near me. They laugh at my jokes, beg for my tricks, hang on my every word." His head tilts slightly, studying you. "But you? You look at me like I'm something dangerous."
"You are dangerous," you say before you can stop yourself. “Even if I can’t prove it.”
His smile is slow and devastating. "Yes. I am."
The admission should frighten you. Instead, it sends heat curling through your belly, making your breath catch in your chest. He's standing close enough now that you can see the way the moonlight plays across his features. He's beautiful, with a sharp jawline and elegant nose, the curve of his mouth full and dangerous, the kind of beauty that bards say is dangerous, luring people into the spider’s web.
"But that's not why you ran," Jeonghan continues.
"It's not?"
He shakes his head. "You ran because of what I said in there. Because I saw through you, and you didn't like it."
"You don't know anything about me."
He takes another step, and now he's close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, can see the way his gaze travels deliberately over your face, your throat, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
"I already proved that isn't true, love."
Your breath catches. Heat floods your cheeks, your chest, spreading through your entire body. "You're far too presumptuous and entirely impromper."
"I'm observant."His eyes meet yours, and there's something raw in them now, something that makes your stomach flip. "And I know you felt it too. In the ballroom, when I was close to you. The way your breath changed. The way you leaned toward me even as you tried to pull away. The way you're looking at me right now, like you can't decide if you want to run or-"
"Or what, jester?" You demand, huffing. "If you know me so well, just say it."
Jeonghan's smile turns predatory. "Or if you want to stay right here and let me show you what you desire, no matter how improper it is."
Your heart is pounding so hard you're certain he can hear it. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I?" He takes one more step, closing the distance until you can feel his breath against your lips, until you're backed against the rough bark of a tree you didn't realize was behind you. "I'm not afraid of your crown, love. I'm not afraid of what anyone would say or do. I'm not afraid of you."
The words send a thrill down your spine that you absolutely should not feel. His hand comes up, not touching you but hovering just beside your face, close enough that you can feel the heat of his palm against your cheek. You grit your teeth, refusing to lean into the hand the way you want to, refusing to give him the satisfaction again tonight.
"Why risk it, then?" You ask. "Only a fool would."
"I am a fool," he agrees. "Let me show you how foolish I am. Let me show you what it's like to be touched and desired. Let me show you what I've wanted to do since the moment I've met you and how I want to make you come undone. Let me make you lose all that polished control you loathe so much."
You should say no. Should push him away. Should remember every reason this is a terrible idea. But your body isn't listening to your mind, and you find yourself leaning toward him, drawing by the magnetic pull you've been fighting all evening.
"What do you say," he asks, hand coming to cradle your face and tilt it upward until you're looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Do you want your desires answered?"
You lick your lips and his eyes track the movement, pupils expanding. Swallowing dryly, you give the shallowest nod, damning yourself to desire, to the feeling of being wanted and seen.
It's all he needs. Jeonghan's eyes darken, and then his mouth is on yours and the world narrows to just the heat of his lips, the press of his body as he crowds you back against the tree, the rough bark catching on the fabric of your gown. He kisses you like he's starving for it, deep and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.
You gasp into his mouth and he swallows the sound, one hand tangling in your hair while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. The kiss is nothing like you imagined. It's not gentle or reverent or careful, but instead it’s consuming, devastating, the kind of kiss that you never knew existed.
He tastes like wine and something darker, something that makes you want more even as your lungs burn for air. His teeth catch your lower lip and you whimper, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle beneath the fabric of his costume.
"I've wanted this for so long," Jeonghan murmurs against your mouth, then trails his lips down your jaw to your throat. "Wanted you. Do you know how difficult it was to keep my hands to myself during that trick? To stand so close and not touch you the way I really wanted to?"
His teeth graze your pulse point and you can't stop the sound that escapes you, half gasp, half moan. He makes a satisfied noise low in his throat, then his hand slides from your hip to your thigh, gathering the heavy fabric of your gown and pulling it up as you pant against the tree, your head digging into the bark.
"Tell me to stop," he says, but his fingers are already tracing the inside of your thigh, moving higher. "Tell me you don't want this. Tell me all my chasing and teasing and prodding is for nothing and that I should leave."
“I can’t.”
"Fuck," Jeonghan breathes against your throat, and the crude word from his elegant mouth sends another wave of heat through you.
His fingers find the edge of your undergarments and he pulls them aside with deliberate slowness, exposing you to the cool night air. When his fingers press against you directly, finding you already slick, you bite down on your lip to keep from crying out. The gardens are secluded and shadowed, but not so far from the ballroom that sound wouldn't carry.
"Don't," Jeonghan says, his free hand coming up to pull your lip from between your teeth. "I want to hear you. Want to know exactly what I'm doing to you. Want to hear every sound you make when I touch you like this."
His fingers slip between your slick folds and you do cry out then, unable to stop yourself. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails digging in through the fabric of his costume, and he groans like your pleasure is his own. You feel a shiver go through him and you realize he’s just as affected by you as you are by him and it makes the heat even worse, the knowledge that he wants you this badly turning your blood to fire.
"So wet," he murmurs, his fingers sliding through your folds, exploring you with maddening slowness. "So perfect. Is this what you were thinking about during the bard's song? Someone touching you like this? Making you fall apart?"
You can't answer. Can't form words. All you can do is gasp as his fingers circle your clit with devastating precision, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. Your legs turn molten and Jeonghan pins you against the tree with his hips, sliding one of his knees between your legs to keep you pried open for his hand.
"Answer me," Jeonghan demands. "Tell me what you were thinking about."
"Yes," you manage, the word coming out broken. "Yes, I was thinking about being touched."
His fingers press harder, moving in tight circles that make your vision blur. His fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance, and you can feel how wet you are, your entrance clenching around nothing as his fingers trace laze circles where you need him most, your hips twitching.
"I'm going to give you exactly what you want," he promises. "Going to make you come so hard you see stars.
He slides one finger inside you and you cry out, your back arching off the tree. He's watching your face with an intensity that should make you self-conscious, but you're too far gone to care, too lost in the sensation of his finger moving inside you, curling just right, finding spots that make you shake.
It feels so good - better than you imagined, even. Jeonghan is precise, leaning forward to leave bite marks and kitten licks up and down your neck as he works you slowly, finger pressing against your front wall in a way that sends you squirming against him. Your breath comes out in short, quick gasps, sweat gathering at the back of your neck as he fucks you with his finger, the wet press of his hand maddening.
"Look at you," Jeonghan murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "So beautiful like this. So desperate. I want to see you fall apart. Want to see your face when you come."
He adds a second finger and you whimper, your hands sliding from his shoulders to grip his arms, needing something to hold onto. The stretch is perfect, overwhelming, and when he curls his fingers inside you while his thumb finds your clit, you nearly sob, rolling your hips forward into his hand, thighs trembling as you clench down on his fingers.
"You're so tight," Jeonghan continues, his voice a dark purr in your ear. "So perfect around my fingers. I can feel how close you are. Can feel you clenching around me. Do you want to come, love? Do you want me to make you fall apart right here in the garden where anyone could find us?"
The thought should horrify you. Instead, it sends another wave of heat through you, making you clench harder around his fingers. You nod desperately, squeezing your eyes shut as your cunt throbs around his fingers and you writhe against the tree.
"You like that," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Like the danger of it. Like knowing that you're supposed to be in there playing princess while you're out here letting the court jester play with this pretty pussy."
His words are filthy and crude, and they shouldn't affect you the way they do, but combined with the movement of his fingers, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his body pressed against yours, you feel overwhelmed and strung out, the feeling low in your stomach coiling and coiling and coiling until you're babbling and squirming and squeezing your eyes shut.
"Please," you gasp, and you're not even sure what you're begging for.
"I know what you need." His fingers move faster, harder, curling inside you with devastating precision. "You need to let go. Need to stop thinking and just feel. Need someone to take control so you don't have to be perfect for once in your life."
His thumb presses harder against your clit, circling in tight, relentless patterns, and you can feel the pleasure building to an impossible peak. Your thighs are shaking, your breath coming in desperate gasps. Jeonghan invades your senses - the smell of him, the heat of him, the way his teeth scrape against your neck, the way his hair tickles against your skin.
"You're mine right now," Jeonghan growls. "Not a princess. Not a performance. Just mine. Say it."
"Yours," you gasp. "I'm yours."
"Good girl. Now come for me. Let me feel it. Let me watch you fall apart."
His fingers curl one more time, hitting that perfect spot inside you while his thumb works your clit, and the orgasm crashes over you like a wave. You cry out, unable to stop yourself, your body convulsing against the tree as pleasure floods through you. You clench around his hand, throbbing as your body shakes until you feel like you can't breathe.
Jeonghan works you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out your orgasm until you're boneless and gasping and oversensitive. He's murmuring praise in your ear now - how beautiful you are, how perfect, how he wants to do this again and again until you can't remember your own name - and it makes you dizzy, feeling like you're drunk off of him alone.
Finally, the waves subside and Jeonghan withdraws his hand slowly. You feel the loss of him like an ache, your legs still trembling and barely holding you up. He brings his fingers to his mouth, and you watch through hazy eyes as he licks them clean, tasting you. The sight sends another pulse of heat through you despite your exhaustion.
"Delicious," he murmurs, his eyes dark and satisfied. "Even better than I imagined."
Reality begins to seep back in slowly. The cool night air on your heated skin. The distant sounds of the party still going on inside. The rough bark of the tree against your back. What you've just done, and who you've done it with.
You should feel ashamed. Should feel horrified. Should be scrambling to fix your dress and run back to the safety of the ballroom. You don't. You feel satisfied and boneless and strangely alive all at once, like you've finally done something that feels real instead of the pretty performance.
When you look up at Jeonghan, you see him watching you, his expression unreadable in the shadow of the tree. The breeze makes the leaves dance, kissing your cooling skin as his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek with surprising gentleness.
"Regrets?" He asks, voices soft as the smoke that clings to him.
You should say yes and that this was a mistake, that it can never happen again and that you need to return to the ballroom and pretend this never happened. You should remind him that this is improper and unacceptable. Yet instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch, lashes fluttering.
"No," you admit. "No regrets."
Something like satisfaction shifts in his gaze, and he leans in and kisses you again. This time it's different - softer and slower, less consuming and more like he's savoring the taste and feel of your lips against his. You kiss him back, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the crystals click against your skin as his heart pounds beneath your palms.
When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard again, and your mind is spinning with questions you're not sure you want answered.
"How did you do it?" you ask suddenly.
Jeonghan tilts his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "Do what?"
"The card trick. In the ballroom."
His smile widens, and there's something dangerous in it now."I already told you. I read your mind."
You shake your head, confusion and disbelief warring inside you. "That would make you something magical. Not just a jester with clever tricks."
"Yes," Jeonghan agrees, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "It would."
The implication of his words hits you like a physical blow. Your breath catches, your mind racing through everything you know about him, everything you've seen, the way he seems to move through the world like something other. Like something more.
He's grinning now, watching the realization dawn across your face, and then he's kissing you again, harder this time, more possessive, like he's claiming you. Like he knows exactly what he's revealed and doesn't care. When he pulls back, his lips are still close enough that you can feel his breath against your mouth.
"You thought it yourself earlier, didn’t you?" he murmurs, teeth catching your bottom lip sharply. "I'm a wolf in fools' clothing."
PAIRING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEMBER FOCUS: Junhui and Joshua
PACK MEETING: Joshua has never helped you through your heat before. Thankfully, Junhui is a pro.
REQUESTED BY: @joshujinREQUEST: jun teaches joshua how to take care of reader during a heat bc he's a nervy beta. jun probably also calms joshua down with some super gay kisses idk tho. if any of this doesn't align with how you're planning on characterizing them tho then just do whatever ily!!!
GENRE: Fluff, smut
AU: Omegaverse
WC: 4448
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: This has no plot. The plot is sex. Some hormone talk, reader is needy, some mild dom/sub dynamics via junhui being an alpha, joshua a beta, and reader an omega, threesome, nipple play, lots of kissing, lots of senses and feelings and shit, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving) vaginal fingering, lots of spit and slick, some mild biting, scenting, boys kissing because we love polyamory in my house, pet names, lots of praise, praise kinks implied, heat dynamics, nervous joshua... um i think thats it
SMUT NOTICE: This chapter is centered around smut and shout be skipped if you don’t like reading smut - it makes little sense to read without.
A/N: Actually shot out to @haologram for helping me narrow down what chapter to fill next. We are not sorry Trixiana Grande. You will live <3
A/N 2: As usual this is not beta read this because I’m impatient and just wanna post these as I finish writing them.
HOUSE RULES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | ASK
YOUR HEAT BURNS THROUGH YOU LIKE A LIVING THING, TURNING YOUR INSIDES INTO LIVING HELL. Your skin feels too tight, pulling at the edges and cleaning to the sheets beneath you, the sticky surface of your body covered in a thin sheen of perpetual sweat. The only source of relief is Junhui's callused hand moving down your side, his light touch grounding. You shiver as his fingers graze your ribs, your stomach, your thighs, each point of contact only ramping up the furnace under your skin.
You whimper, unable to stop the sound from crawling up the back of your throat. You squeeze your thighs together, the ache so intense that you feel like the room is spinning - or maybe it is, you can't be sure, though it doesn't seem entirely likely.
"I know," Junhui coos, squeezing your thigh a little. "I've got you, baby."
Junhui’s face is close to yours - close enough that you can count each one of his dark, silky eye lashes. He’s pretty like this, his blonde hair falling across his forehead, slightly damp from the shower he’d taken with you earlier that morning. Your eyes trace the careful curve of his lips, landing on your favorite mole just above his pink upper lip.
Junhui's scent wraps around you then, purposeful and warm to steady your pounding heart and elevated anxiety. He smells like cedar and the black tea he likes to drink in the morning, your brain fracturing a little through the haze of your heat at the familiarity of it.
The bed dips slightly and you glance toward the new weight, suddenly aware of Joshua. He sits with his legs folded beneath him, his dark eyes wide as saucers, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his gaze darts between you and Junhui. He’s pretty even when he’s nervous, the softness of his face easing you with the sharpness of Junhui. His fingers twist in the sheets like he's unsure what to do with his hands, dark hair a little disheveled from running his hands through it too many times.
Junhui notices it too. Of course he does - he's an alpha. Though he's not the head alpha of this pack, there is very little that Junhui doesn't notice, and right now he's reaching for Joshua gently, an encouraging smile on his face.
"Shua," he murmurs. "Come here."
The beta only hesitates for a moment. You watch him with heavy eyes as he slides closer, the mattress shifting. It jostles you a little and you whine, but Junhui tuts at you gently, his other hand reaching to help Joshua settle near you. You immediately lean toward him, sliding your head across the bed to press it near his knee.
"She needs you," Junhui tells him. His hand restarts tracing patterns on your thigh and you nod, agreeing with him. You do need Joshua - desperately. "I'll show you, yeah?"
"I don't want to hurt her."
"You won't," Junhui assures him. "Like this."
Junhui slides his hand from your leg back up your body until he's cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your scent gland. You shudder, feeling your heart flutter as your eyes go unfocused for a second. For a moment, all you can sense is Junhui's thumb against you, not quite scenting you but enough contact to make you press your forehead to Joshua's knee, panting.
"Touch her like this on the other side," Junhui murmurs. "She likes a thumb on her scent gland. You don't have to press. Just put some light pressure."
Joshua follows Junhui's lead, reading a hand to cup the back of your neck and tilt your head up. You look up at him, the light coming in from the window blinding you for a second until his face swims into focus. Joshua is pretty, the slope of his nose perfect and his full lips curling into a smile as his thumb swipes back and forth against your scent gland, making you trill.
It feels good, cedar and juniper twisting together as they settle on either side of you, the weight of them on the mattress making you sink further, their knees brushing your sides. You turn toward Joshua, seeking the calm balance of his cool palm and juniper scent while Junhui's warm cedar presses in.
"You're so warm," Joshua whispers.
"Heat," you croak. "Very hot."
Junhui chuckles. "Everything will be more intense for her right now." His fingers leave your neck to card through your hair, his nails scratching bluntly against your scalp. You melt into it with a soft sound and Joshua smiles down at you. "See? She reacts well. She'll tell you what she needs."
"Touch me," you beg, looking at Joshua through your lashes. "Please."
Joshua complies, his hand sliding down your arm slowly. The slow drag of his fingers over your skin feels like heaven, your eyes rolling back as you lose yourself to the touch. You feel yourself melt into the bed, his touch growing more confident until he's lacing his fingers with yours. You immediately give them a squeeze and he squeezes back, and when you glance at him again, you see the way he's softened a little, happy to be close to you.
"Kiss her," Junhui hums. "She likes that."
Joshua glances down at you and you nod eagerly, sliding up the bed a little to give him room. Hand still wrapped in yours, he leans down to brush his lips against yours. They're soft and questioning at first, barely more than a brush of lips until you make a desperate sound against him and surge forward, kissing him properly.
He complies, deepening the kiss as he lets go of your hand to cradle your head, angling your face toward him. His tongue presses the seam of your lips and you open up for him immediately, the warmth of his mouth and tongue inviting. He tastes like honey and something else sweet and addicting, your own hands coming up to pull him closer.
Kissing Joshua is different from kissing Junhui. Despite Junhui's steady and calm nature, he can be demanding, his kisses severe and consuming. This isn't that. This a languid press of mouths, the soft sweeping of Joshua's tongue along the ridge of your teeth, the bumping of his nose into yours until he's pulling away to catch his breath.
"Perfect," Junhui says quietly. "See how much she needs you?"
Joshua nods, resting his forehead against yours. His pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the warm brown of his irises. His lips are pretty and pink, a little swollen from kissing you and you smile, leaning forward to steal another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently. He laughs into your mouth, letting you steal as much of him as you want, your hunger insatiable.
When you pull back again, his eyes are still closed, his breathing heavier. "Tell me what to do, baby. What do you want?"
The words get stuck in your throat. Cedar and juniper clash in your thoughts, your body locked in the heat so fully that Joshua's words turn to a tangled mess when you try to process them, a frustrated sound working its way up your throat.
"Touch her," Junhui answers for you, sensing the frustration. "Sometimes she struggles to communicate. Just go with the flow and don't worry about being wrong. Your instincts know what to do."
Nodding, Joshua slides his hand from your face down your neck, his fingers lingering over the rapid flutter of your pulse before he drags them to your collarbone, lightly tracing the indents of Soonyoung's teeth from the night before. You arch into his touch, chasing it - craving it - and he makes a small sound of surprise, like he can't believe you need him this much.
"Good." Junhui's hand settles on your waist, keeping you anchored to the bed. "See how she responds? Keep doing."
Joshua listens to the alpha, his touch growing bolder. He leans down and kisses you again, deeper and hungrier and you let it consume you. His hand traces the curves of your body, his fingers curling slightly to drag the blunt edge of his nails down your hips. You moan into his mouth and he moans back, the sound of his despair echoed so acutely that it makes your thoughts turn cottony and thick, sticking together as you shiver.
"Please," you beg, your voice wrecked. "Please."
"Easy, baby," Junhui soothes, bending down to kiss your temple. His own hand slides down to your thigh where he grips you and opens you up, cool air hitting your soaked cunt. "Shua's going to take care of you. Aren't you Shua?"
"Yes," Joshua says, and his voice has dropped, gone rough around the edges in a way you've never heard before.
He kisses down your jaw and your throat, his lips soft, tongue darting out to taste you. You squirm but Junhui keeps you pinned, his hand on your hip and tight as Joshua's mouth finds the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. He runs the flat of his tongue across the delicate skin there and you cry out as Junhui chuckles. You feel Joshua grin against your skin as he lingers there, sucking at your neck gently, the sensation shooting right through you and turning the pit of your stomach molten.
"Perfect," Junhui murmurs. He lifts the hand off your hip to press Joshua's shoulder. "Lower."
Joshua works his way down your body with his lips, tongue and teeth, each press of his mouth both a burn and balm. His mouth is hot against your sternum, your ribs, the soft skin of your stomach, each kiss like a brand. He's careful as he shifts down the bed and you feel your stomach flip when Junhui pries your legs wider while Joshua slides to his knees at the edge of the bed.
Junhui follows him down, moving to kneel behind Joshua. He wraps himself around Joshua's back, chest pressed close enough that he can hook his chin over Joshua's shoulder so he can murmur directly into the beta's ear. You can see the way Joshua relaxes slightly into Junhui's presence, leaning back into the alpha, turning to press his forehead against Junhui's neck briefly as he breathes him in.
"Start slow," Junhui murmurs, lips dragging against the shell of Joshua's ear. You stare at them between your legs, watching as Junhui's eyes drag up to yours, pupils blown and hungry. He reaches around Joshua, caging him in as he places his hands on your knees, spreading you wider. "She's sensitive, so anything you do will feel overwhelming. I recommend soft licks."
Nodding, Joshua leans forward, his breath ghosting across your inner thigh as he settles close. Your thighs twitch but his grip is firm, keeping you open for Joshua's hungry gaze.
You forget how to breathe, watching as your heart flutters like a humming bird trapped in a cage. Joshua follows Junhui's instructions exactly, dragging his tongue slowly and deliberately through your sticky folds. The sensation punches right through you, your back arching off the bed as a broken sound escapes you, voice cracking. Junhui's hands tighten on our knees, keeping you in place as Joshua's tongue circles your swollen clit.
"Take your time." Junhui nips Joshua's ear playfully and the beta moans, the sound vibrating through you. You twist your hips, the sensation overwhelming. "Hmm. She liked that."
Joshua nods, humming again. Your lashes flutter, heading pushing back into the mattress as his tongue works in long, slow strokes, occasionally using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp before he dips back down to tease your aching hole. It makes the heat in your blood sing, his mouth soft and warm and wet and fuck.
"Suck gently," Junhui recommends. "That makes her lose it."
"Yeah?" Joshua asks, panting as he pulls away and looks up at you. His eyes are completely blown, lips glossy with your slick. He looks debauched, so different from the polished beta who likes to make you scones on Sundays. "Let me try."
Joshua's lips close around your clit and he sucks gently. The sensation is so intense you nearly sob, your hands coming up to hide your face as your entire body goes tight. He smiles against you, laughing a little as he fastens his mouth to your pussy, sucking in gentle tugs that make your entire bed spin on its axis while Junhui's thumbs stroke small circles on the inside of your knees.
"You're doing so good," Junhui whispers. "I bet she feels so good."
Joshua pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark and hazy, his lips and chin glistening. The sight of him on his knees with Junhui wrapped around him makes something in your chest crack open, your heart stopping and starting all over again as Joshua smirks and dives back in, confident and hungry.
"Tastes so fucking good," he mumbles, nose bumping your clit. "Could do this all the time."
"Let me taste," Junhui says and leans over Joshua's shoulder.
Joshua turns to face Junhui, letting the alpha steal a wet kiss that's all tongue. You stare, watching as Joshua submits easily to Junhui as the alpha sucks the taste of you right off Joshua's tongue. When they pull apart, Joshua is a little breathless as Junhui grins and glances at you, tongue swiping across the bottom of his lip.
"Delicious."
Junhui pushes Joshua's head forward then and the beta follows right back to your pussy, his tongue finding a rhythm that is slow and devastating, swapping back and forth between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit as he traces patterns that make you writhe.
You feel Joshua's hand slide up your thigh, guided by Junhui's grip on his wrist as he tentatively presses a finger into your wet heat. You gasp, feeling the stretch combined with the flutter of his tongue stealing the breath from your lungs. He curls his finger exactly as Junhui instructs, pressing against your front wall so that you see stars, cursing up at the ceiling as he drags you toward an orgasm.
His tongue works your clit in steady, rhythmic circles while his finger moves inside you, and the dual sensation builds and builds until you're lost in it, suspended in the feeling of an orgasm that waits and waits and waits until it finally breaks and rushes in.
You come hard, your pleasure suddenly having no start or end but a looping, endless twitching of thighs and clenching walls. You grit your teeth, unable to breathe for a few seconds until you finally gasp for air, body loosening slightly. Joshua's mouth is still on you but it's soft now, his tongue soothing and avoiding your clit, finger pressed deep as he sucks at you messily, making little sounds of enjoyment as he does.
"She's so fucking pretty when she comes," Junhui groans. "Fuck."
Joshua pulls back slowly, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hazy as he looks up at you. His lips curl upward, pupils dilated as he presses slick-wet kisses to the sides of your thighs, leaving shiny marks as he goes. Junhui's hands leave your knees, your legs trembling a little as you let them fall open, your muscles turning to jelly.
Junhui reaches for Joshua. "Come here."
Joshua rises on shaky knees and Junhu catches him before he loses his balance, cupping the back of his neck to pull him to his feet and into a kiss. It's slow and deep, and you watch with your heart beating and fingers twisting into the sheets as Junhui gets a taste of you from Joshua's lips before pulling back. He wipes his thumb across Joshua's bottom lip and pops it into his mouth, humming.
"Tastes good." Junhui looks at you and his gaze darkens. "She needs more of you, Shua."
Joshua nods. "I want to give more."
"Slow," Junhui says, dropping his hands to the hem of Joshua's shirt to pull it over his head. The beta shivers and nods, a little dazed as Junhui's nibble fingers pull at the strings on Joshua's sweatpants next. "Slow and deep. She likes hard and fast the first day of heat - that's what Soonyoung took care of last night. Today we just need her to feel it."
Joshua nods, kicking off his sweatpants to crawl onto the bed, shuffling on his knees. You mouth waters at the sight of him, all tan and smooth from summer days spent at the pool, broad at the shoulder and perfectly tapered in the waist. His cock is heavy, the tip swollen with need as he makes a sound in the back of his throat when you reach for him.
He lets you grab his hands, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes like you. You don't mind, sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails dragging down the nape of his neck as he hums, pleased. The smell of him calms you down, pheromones soothing and making you sigh into the kiss, melting back into a state of calm as he settles between your legs.
Junhui shifts on the bed then, momentarily distracting you as you break away from Joshua's kiss. Junhui is kneeling on the bed, blonde hair disheveled in the low light. He's stripped down to his sweats, the hard planes of his stomach twitching as he crawls over, his dark eyes fixated on you. His shoulders are just as broad as the beta between your legs, but there's a predatory grace to the way that Junhui moves that makes him sharper.
Joshua makes room for him, sitting up on his knees as he pries you open further at the knees, your thighs stretching in protest. Cool air hits your cunt and you whine, but Joshua shuts you up as he rubs the fat head of his cock against your slick entrance, pressing just enough to stretch you but not enough to slide past. You let out a pathetic noise and he grins until Junhui growls.
"Don't tease her," the alpha warns.
Joshua goes pink in the cheeks, nodding. "Sorry."
Junhui huffs, bending down to cup your face and turn you toward him for a soft kiss. You preen under his affection, leaning toward him to kiss him back eagerly. He laughs, the sound buzzing through your lips and making your head spin as his tongue slides against yours just as Joshua grips your hips and presses his cock into your heat.
It's slow, but it steals your breath away anyway. You gasp against Junhui's mouth, breaking the kiss to glance at where Joshua is focused on sliding home, head ducked down to watch his cock disappear inside of you, his shoulders slick with sweat.
"Fuck," you hiss and Junhui smiles, placing wet kisses against your temple, teeth scraping lightly. "Feels so fucking good."
"Mhmm," Junhui agrees. His lips move to your jaw, sucking the skin there lightly before he licks down to your throat, tongue dancing around your scent gland. You go blank for a minute, vision whiting out until Joshua is pressed in to the hilt. "You're doing so good, baby. So perfect for Shua."
Joshua trembles slightly, tension thrumming through him as he fights to control himself. Where an alpha might start slamming into you, Joshua waits, the stretch and pressure of him pressing against your walls so good that you clench around him on instinct, making him let out a broken laugh.
"So tight, baby," he gasps. "So good."
Junhui hums in agreement, his kisses trailing to your collarbones. "Move now. Long, deep strokes."
Joshua listens, withdrawing slowly so that the drag of him against your walls makes you cry out. He pushes in just as deliberately, snapping his hips so the stroke is deep. It punches the breath from your lungs and you grab onto Junhui, who doesn't mind, letting you dig your nails into his arms and hands as he lavishes attention to the swells of your chest.
The rhythm Joshua sets is torturous, each stroke deep and measured that forces you to feel every inch of him, hitting that spot inside of you that has you mumbling his name, head falling to the side while your legs lock around his hip, keeping him going.
Junhui's hands on your body makes the pleasure spike, his palms sliding up your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts before cupping them gently, thumbs flicking over your nipples. You arch into his touch, moaning brokenly, overwhelmed by the feeling of both of them, their skin warm and scents tangled.
Long gone is the ache in your stomach, replaced only by swelling heat and pressure. Long gone is the too-tight skin and the feverish need to be touched, replaced by Junhui's hands and his warm mouth closing around a nipple, sucking and flicking with his tongue until you're nearly sobbing, hands tangling in his damp hair.
"So pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Look at you taking Joshua so well. Does it feel good, baby? Does he fill you up the way you need/"
"Yes," you whine. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."
Joshua's pace stays steady and unhurried, each thrust making you tighten around him. You can feel how wet you are, slick dripping down the curve of your ass as he picks up his pace a little, feeling the way your orgasm is building, knowing you need to reach it. He grinds into you at the end of each stroke, hitting it just right that your vision starts to blur.
Junhui kisses up your chest, along your throat, finding your mouth again. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, tongue sliding against yours in a lazy rhythm that mirrors Joshua's strokes. Being between them is overwhelming - Junhui's mouth on yours, his hands on your skin, Joshua buried deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist.
"Shua." Joshua looks up, his hair sticking to his forehead as Junhui leans toward him. "Come here."
Joshua leans forward, still moving inside you, and Junhui catches him in a kiss. You watch through hazy eyes as they kiss above you, Junhui's hand cupping Joshua's jaw, guiding him. The sight of it makes you clench around Joshua and he moans into Junhui's mouth, making the alpha grin.
"She likes to watch," Junhui pants against Joshua's mouth. "Likes knowing how everyone belongs to one another." Junhui's hand slides down Joshua's chest to his hips where he squeezes. "Angle up. She needs it right here."
Joshua adjusts, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift them higher, and when he pushes in again the angle is devastating. He hits that spot inside you dead-on and you nearly scream, your whole body arching up off the bed.
"Dead on," Junhui says with a grin. He leans down again, his mouth finding your ear. "Feel that, baby? Feel how deep he is? He's going to take such good care of you. Going to fuck you slow and perfect until you come so hard."
"You're so wet," Joshua groans, his voice strained. "Fuck I don't know how to last."
"That's the heat," Junhui murmurs against your throat. "You can pick up pace. She's close. She's so good for you, yeah? Pretty little omega."
"Fuck yeah."
The praise makes you whimper, makes fresh slickness coat Joshua's cock in response, their approval making your body sing. Junhui kisses you again, deep and consuming, and you lose yourself in it until you feel Junhui's hands slide down between where Joshua fucks you, his fingers finding your clit. His touch is light, but combined with Joshua's relentless pace, it's enough to tilt you over.
Your orgasm hits you hard and you come with a strangled noise, body jerking upward as Junhui holds you down. Your hand clutch at Junhui's shoulders, nails digging into his skin and sliding down his arms. He doesn't mind, letting out a pleased sound as he and Joshua work you through your orgasm in tandem.
Joshua groans above you, his rhythm faltering as you clench around him. "Oh fuck- I can't-"
"Come for her," Junhui says softly, and it's permission and command all at once.
Joshua's hips stutter forward one more time, burying himself as deep as he can go, and then he's coming with a broken moan. You feel the pulse of him inside you, the warmth flooding your core, and it draws another aftershock from your own orgasm. His whole body trembles, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and the sounds he makes send you soaring, your omega preening at the way your beta loses control for you.
The three of you collapse together in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slick skin, Joshua slumping forward and catching himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes in hot, ragged pants against your throat as Junhui shifts beside you, one arm sliding you to the side so Joshua can pull out and collapse next to you.
Joshua stays glued to your side, his legs tangled with yours as your joint fluids drip down your thigh. You ignore it, knowing Junhui will deal with it later like he's supposed to. For now, Junhui flops down next to you so you're pinned between them, and reaches over to run his hand down the back of Joshua's neck.
You turn your head to nuzzle into Junhui's chest, breathing him in, while Joshua presses soft kisses to your shoulder. Your heat has quieted to a low simmer, temporarily sated, and in its absence you feel the bone-deep exhaustion and the overwhelming desire to sleep right here between the two of them.
"You did good," Junhui tells Joshua, voice rough.
You feel Joshua's smile against your shoulder. "She's incredible. Both of you."
Turning to face him, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him down for a slow, sweet kiss. When you pull back, Junhui is watching you both with dark, intent eyes. Something shifts in the air - a change in the sharpness to his scent and face that makes your pulse quicken.
Junhui leans in, his hand sliding into your hair to angle your face toward him, and when he kisses you, it's deep and possessive, his tongue claiming as he pulls away with a sharp bite to your lower lip that makes you whimper.
Everyone knows Seungcheol flirts his way through life. You’ve brushed him off so many times it's practically routine. He never pushes, so you've always taken it as harmless fun -- until something shifts, and you realise he's not as simple as you've convinced yourself he is.
⇢ pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader
⇢ genre: fluff, angst, idiots to lovers
⇢ wc: approx. 10k
⇢ warnings: daycare worker reader, firefighter!cheol, alcohol consumption, mentions of fire, miscommunication, reader is a little mean 😭
⇢ a/n: this is well WELL overdue because of. many reasons. so thank you so so soo much to the hosts of this collab for being so kind and understanding w extensions. it’s been a loooong time since ive been able to write but im so glad this is finally going out into the world 💗
⇢ as part of the carat’s ridge collab hosted by @imnotshua @starlightkyeom @100vern
YOU’VE WORKED AT Little Pines for just under three years now, long enough that you don't flinch anymore when a four-year-old screams directly into your ear for reasons that will never be explained to you, long enough that you've got a favourite chair in the break room and a mug that says WORLD'S OKAYEST TEACHER that your coworker Jiwon got you as a joke two Christmases ago and that you now use every single day out of spite.
“You're doing the thing again,” Jiwon says, not looking up from where she's cutting a stack of construction paper into slightly uneven ovals that will eventually become, God willing, eggs.
“What thing?”
“You've been staring at the door since 7:40. It's currently 8:05. Taehyun's mom's going to walk through it any minute now and you're going to jump like she caught you doing something illegal.”
“I wasn't staring at the door.” You absolutely were staring at the door.
“Okay.“ Jiwon holds up an oval that's more of a rhombus. “Do these look like chicken eggs to you?”
“They look like abstract art.”
She sticks her tongue out at you. “Okay, well, they're chicken eggs.”
Across the room, Soyeon — who technically works the front desk and has no real business in the classroom during the day, but wanders in anyway whenever she's got a free ten minutes — is refereeing a dispute over a single yellow crayon that has somehow become the most coveted object in the building. Two kids stand on either side of her, red-faced and furious, both absolutely certain of their claim.
“I had it first.”
“I had it first first.”
“There's no such thing as first first,” Soyeon says, with the weary patience of someone who's negotiated with cranky four year olds before breakfast and will again after lunch. “There are, however, eleven other yellow crayons in that bin. I checked.”
Neither kid finds this persuasive. You've learned, over three years, that most classroom diplomacy comes down to waiting people out rather than winning any actual argument, and sure enough, within ninety seconds both of them have abandoned the crayon entirely in favor of a much more interesting pile of dolls in the corner. Soyeon catches your eye over their heads and mouths good luck, and you give her a thumbs up you don't entirely feel yet as she disappears back to the office.
The door opens. It's Taehyun's mother, harried and talking rapidly about a meeting she's clearly already late for, depositing her son and his bag and a granola bar all in one motion before disappearing again in a cloud of strong perfume. Taehyun toddles toward the block corner without acknowledging either of you, which is, frankly, the daycare equivalent of a warm greeting.
You've got four kids in by 8:15, seven by 8:30, and by nine the whole room has that low hum of chaos that means the day's properly begun — someone building a tower, someone destroying a tower, someone crying about the tower's destruction with a passion. Chaewon, three going on forty, sits very seriously at the reading corner turning the pages of a picture book upside down and narrating it with complete confidence.
“That's not what it says,” you tell her, crouching down.
“I know,“ Chaewon says. “I made it better.”
You don't have a response to that, so you let her keep going.
By ten you've got the whole room moving through the usual currents — circle time, then centres, then the slow inevitable descent into midday crankiness over minor grievances that means it's almost snack time. You hand out orange slices and listen to a passionate, incoherent argument between two five-year-olds about whether dogs could, in principle, become doctors, a debate that resolves itself only when someone knocks over the entire bin of blocks and both parties get called away to help clean it up, already having forgotten what they were arguing about in the first place.
This is the shape of your days, mostly. Small disasters, smaller triumphs, a lot of glitter you'll find in your hair for a week afterward. You do like it — the specific way you like something you didn't expect to love. You'd taken the job out of necessity two summers after a psychology degree that hadn't led anywhere near where you'd planned it would; you'd pictured a clinic, or a research post, or at the very least something with your name on a door, not a room full of glue sticks and orange peels. But somewhere in the middle of your first year you'd looked up from tying somebody's shoe and realised you weren't counting down to anything anymore. You like the kids, you like listening to their absolutely nonsensical debates, and okay, maybe the tantrums aren’t exactly a plus, but when they hand you a badly coloured apple or give the sweetest compliments about your outfit on any given day, your whole heart melts. You think about it sometimes — grad school, or moving away, but never with any real intensity. It could happen, someday, but for now, you’re happy exactly where you are.
Sunday dinner at your mom's is a fixed institution, always at the same table, same mismatched chairs, same argument, most weeks, about whether the good tablecloth is really necessary for a meal that will inevitably involve your younger sister spilling something on it. Agreeing to dinner once a week was one of your mother’s few stipulations when you decided to move out. And now Yuna's twenty-two and home for the summer between the end of her graphic design degree in another city and the beginning of whatever comes next, and she's currently interrogating you about your love life with the particular shamelessness only a younger sibling can manage.
“So nothing's happening with anyone,” she says, not a question.
You roll your eyes. “Correct.”
“Nothing at all. Zero activity.”
“I have a very rich inner life, Yuna, it doesn't all have to be romantic. Hobbies. Friends.”
“I didn't ask about your inner life, I asked if you're seeing anyone.“ Yuna reaches across the table for the rice without asking, which your mother allows only from her, a fact that has been a point of argument for roughly twenty years. “You have like, two friends anyway.”
Unfortunately, your younger sister is entirely correct.
“I saw that lovely Choi boy last week, actually,” your mom says, entirely too casual about it, spooning more food onto your plate — which is her way of forcing you to stay in your seat. “He asked how you were doing. Very polite about it. He's always been polite, hasn’t he?”
You scoff. “He's flirting with the whole town, Mom, that's just what he does.”
“Mm,“ your mother says, which is not agreement, and also not disagreement, and is in fact the single most infuriating sound a mother can make. “He's been doing it a long time, though, hasn't he? Since you two were teenagers.”
“He asked her to proooom,” Yuna chips in, sing-song, and you promptly kick her under the table. “Ow! Mom!”
“That doesn't mean anything,” you say, over Yuna’s complaint.
“I didn't say it meant anything.” Your mother says it lightly, the way she says most things she actually means incredibly pointedly, a skill you're fairly sure you inherited directly from her and have spent years turning against her at this exact table. “I just think it's interesting that a man can ask about a woman for ten years and it doesn't mean anything, and a woman can turn him down for ten years and that doesn't mean anything either. Sounds like a lot of nothing happening for a very long time.”
“Can we talk about literally anything else,” you groan, rubbing a hand over your eyes. “In fact! We can talk about how Yuna still hasn't found a job,” you offer, and Yuna kicks you back under the table hard enough that you yelp, and your mother laughs, and the conversation moves on, mercifully, to safer ground — Yuna's job search, the neighbour's renovation, whether it's finally time to replace the good tablecloth — but you catch your mom looking at you once more over the course of the meal with an expression you don't examine too closely.
Here's the truth of it, if you're being honest, which you try not to be too often on this particular subject: Seungcheol's been flirting with you since roughly the ninth grade, in the low-grade, no-stakes way he’s never grown out of. But he also flirts with the guy at the post office. He flirts with Ms. Oh, who's sixty-one and unmarried and thinks he's a delight. He flirts with the bartender at the one good bar in town, who's engaged and finds it hilarious. It's not a thing you take personally, mostly, because it so clearly isn't personal — it's just the way it is with him, constant.
Except it's always felt a little more personal directed at you, and you've spent a lot of energy over the years making sure it never gets anywhere near landing.
You remember the prom thing specifically, with a clarity that time hasn't done much to soften — him leaning against your locker two weeks before, hands in his pockets, asking with a shrug that was trying so hard to look like it didn't matter, and you turning him down before he'd even finished the sentence, because Kim Daeun had told you the week before that he'd asked three other girls the exact same way, and you weren't about to be a fourth. You'd found out later that wasn't true, that you'd actually been the only one he'd asked, but by then the pattern was already set, the reflex already built, and reflexes, you've learned, are a lot harder to unlearn than they are to learn in the first place. He hadn't argued, hadn't sulked, had just said “your loss” and grinned and gone off to ask someone else's opinion on which tie to wear instead, and you remember watching him walk away and feeling, underneath the relief, something that took you another decade to correctly identify as disappointment.
There was something else, too, that came later, and you think about it more than you'd like to admit, because by then you weren't the same girl who'd turned him down at a locker. You were two years into a psychology degree, home for a fortnight over the winter break, feeling like a slightly different person in your own hometown, the way you always did those first few days back, still half in seminar-mode, still analysing everything, including, apparently, yourself. You'd been walking back from your mum's when the sky opened properly, no warning, the kind of rain that soaks through in under a minute, and a car had pulled up alongside you with its window already rolling down before you'd even registered whose it was. Seungcheol in his brother's beat-up sedan, hair already damp from getting out to jog around and open the passenger door for you before you could say anything.
“Get in,” he'd said, entirely reasonable, entirely obvious, and you'd stood there on the curb, drenched, freezing, genuinely unable to think of a single sensible reason to say no, and said no anyway. You'd told him you didn't mind the walk, which was a lie so transparent you'd half expected him to call it, and he hadn't, had just looked at you for a second too long, rain running down from his long fringe onto his cheeks, before he'd said, “Alright,” and driven off slowly.
You'd spent the rest of that walk soaked through and furious with yourself in a way you didn't have language for yet, turning it over with the same detached, clinical curiosity you were being trained to turn on everything else that year — why did you say no, what did you think accepting would cost you — and never quite landing on an answer you liked. You remember thinking, absurdly, that you'd learned more about avoidant attachment that semester than you'd ever wanted to know, and that none of it had stopped you doing exactly what the textbook said you would.
You remember the coffee, more recently, and the movie, and the wedding — Soonyoung's cousin's wedding, the one he'd asked you to as a plus-one with an actual paper invitation he'd apparently gone to the trouble of getting an extra copy of, which you'd found both sweet and alarming in equal measure and you had turned down within about four seconds of seeing it, before you could think too hard about why your hands had gone a little unsteady holding it.
You expect it now. Seungcheol borderline flirts every time he sees you; occasionally he pushes his luck and asks you out, with enough time in between that you can’t call him insistent.
Each time, you refuse it with the specific lightness of someone slamming a door gently enough that it doesn't look like she's slamming it. And each time he's taken it exactly the way he takes everything — with a grin, a shrug, a “your loss” tossed over his shoulder as he walks away completely unbothered, already on to the next joke, the next call, the next whatever.
So you do the same — you don't examine it. You put it in the same drawer where you keep most things you don't want to look at directly, close it, and go back to your life.
The same week you have that pointed dinner with your mom, you see him at the grocery store — or rather, he sees you. It's a Wednesday, nothing special about it, and you're standing in the cereal aisle trying to decide whether you actually need a box of the good granola or whether that's just a symptom of grocery shopping hungry, when a voice behind you says, “You're gonna want the other kind.”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, not even bothering to turn around. “I didn’t ask you, Seungcheol.”
“You didn't have to. You've been standing there for a full minute looking at that box.” Seungcheol's got a basket hooked over one arm, and the basket, when you glance at it, contains a box of protein bars, a carton of orange juice (with pulp, which, ew), and a single lime, which tells you absolutely nothing about what he's planning to cook tonight. “The one with the honey clusters. Trust me.”
“I don't take grocery advice from a man whose entire cart is a lime and protein bars.”
“It's a basket, not a cart, and I resent the implication that I don’t know how to grocery shop.” He leans against the shelf, unbothered, like he's got nowhere else to be — which, this being a Wednesday evening and him apparently off shift, he probably doesn't. “You still owe me an answer on Seokmin’s barbecue thing, by the way.”
“That was two years ago, Seungcheol.”
“I have a long memory.”
“You have a selective memory. You don't remember owing Soonyoung forty dollars, but you remember a barbecue invitation from two summers ago.”
“Different category of memory. One's debt. The other's an open wound.” He says it with a hand pressed dramatically to his chest, grinning, and you roll your eyes and put the honey clusters in your cart anyway, which he looks entirely too pleased about.
“Don't,” you say.
“Didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say I'm always right about cereal, but sure, put words in my mouth.“ He falls into step beside you as you push toward the dairy section, not because he needs anything there, you're fairly sure, but because this is also just how it goes, has gone, for as long as you can remember: running into each other in the produce aisle or outside the post office or at the one gas station, falling into the same easy rhythm you've had since you were teenagers — like the conversation never really stops, just pauses between sightings. “How's the daycare? Still winning?”
“Every day's a battle, but yes.”
“You could come to Seokmin’s barbecue this year. Renewing my invitation.”
“I'll think about it,” you say, which is what you always say, and he laughs like he already knows what that means, because he does, because you've been having some version of this exact exchange for the better part of a decade — him asking, lightly, for something, you deflecting, lightly, in return. Neither of you ever quite landing anywhere, both of you apparently fine with that. You part ways at the register, him with his lime and his orange juice and his protein bars, you with a cart full of things that will mostly go uneaten, and you don't think about it again until you're halfway through unpacking your groceries at home and realise you're smiling for no reason you can name.
It isn't all banter, though, and it would be doing the whole thing a disservice to pretend it is. There's a version of you two that has nothing to do with the game at all, that surfaces every so often, and you think about one particular evening more than you'd probably admit to anyone, including yourself.
You'd run into him at the diner on the edge of town, the one that's open too late and serves coffee that's either too strong or too watery. He'd been alone in a booth looking like a man who'd had a longer day than usual, sleeves shoved up, staring at a mug he wasn't drinking from. You'd almost kept walking.
“You look like you got hit by that truck of yours,”you'd said, sliding into the booth across from him without being invited, and his look of surprise when he saw you mirrored exactly how you’d felt at your own actions.
“Feels about right.” He hadn't tried to make a joke of it, which was how you knew it was serious. Seungcheol without a joke ready was rare. “There was a house fire. We got everyone out,” he adds quickly, “It’s just — the house. It’s fucked up. Like, it was a couple and their kids, and their dog, and they were — you know. Gutted. Crying and shit. The kids, especially.”
You hadn't said anything clever, because there wasn't anything clever to say, and you'd known enough not to try, from years of watching adults fumble around children in crisis and from a psychology degree that had, in fact, occasionally been useful.
“You did everything you could,” you'd said eventually, quiet, as he rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I know that's going to sound like nothing to you right now, but it’s true.”
He'd looked up at you properly then, something unguarded in his face that had nothing to do with flirting, nothing to do with the bit — just a kind of tired gratitude that made you want to reach across the table and grab his hand. “They teach you that in your psych degree or what?” he'd asked, attempting for a smile.
You mirror the smile, with a small shrug of your own. “Turns out it's good for something besides making me insufferable at dinner parties.”
That had got a real laugh out of him, short and surprised, and the two of you had sat there for another hour talking about nothing that mattered and everything that did — his brother, your sister,the particular dread of watching a four-year-old take a deep breath right before they’re about to scream the place down. He'd asked you, at one point, about college and your degree — he’d never been to college, of course, and he’d listened to the whole thing like it was the most interesting thing anyone had said to him all week.
You remember thinking, driving home that night, that you liked him best like this, unshowy, unarmoured, asking real questions and actually waiting for the answers — and you remember being immediately furious with yourself for thinking it, and filing the whole evening away in the same drawer as everything else.
Minji's been your friend since third grade, and she's the one person you still talk to who's known you both — you and Seungcheol — long enough to have a real opinion on the whole situation, which she airs freely and often. Today it's as she’s doing her nails, a shade of red she's had you hold the bottle for while she does the other hand, sitting cross-legged on her grandmother's back porch with two iced coffees sweating rings onto the railing between you.
“I saw Seungcheol at the gas station Tuesday,” Minji says without preamble, not looking up from her hand. “He asked if I'd talked to you lately. Very smooth about it. Very casual.“
“He's like that with—”
“If you say 'he's like that with everyone' I'm going to put this nail polish in your hair.“ She caps the bottle, finally looks at you, and there's none of your mother's careful lightness in it, just Minji's usual bluntness, worn soft by nearly twenty years of friendship. “I've watched this specific bit for ten years. I watched it in high school, I watched it through your entire early twenties,and at some point, as your best friend, I have to ask: what exactly are you so afraid of?”
You don’t answer straight away, dropping your gaze to the coffee. You take a sip, fiddle with the straw between your teeth before you sigh, tilt your head back towards the clouds. “He’s not serious. It’s like a game to him.”
“Did someone tell you that or are you just making up your own conclusions?” She arches a perfectly shaped brow. “It’s been years, ___.”
“Yeah, years of playful flirting. There’s literally nothing serious behind it — I turn him down and he laughs, Minji. It’s a joke. We both know it’s a joke.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s been stuck on you since high school, and you’re too scared of yourself to even give him a chance.”
She always knows how to hit where it hurts, exactly when you need to be hit. Your mouth opens for a second, and then closes as you flounder for something to say. “He’s not stuck on me,” you say finally. “Seriously. We’ve both dated other people, in high school and after.”
“Don’t be purposefully obtuse, you know what I mean. He likes you.”
“Well, he’s never actually said that!”
“Purposefully. Obtuse.” She pokes your forehead after each word. “What are you protecting yourself from here?”
You close your mouth, silenced and sulking about it.
“Because it's not him,” she continues. “He'd catch you. He's been standing there with his arms out for a decade.”
“It's not that simple.”
“It's exactly that simple, you've just made it complicated on purpose because complicated is easier to dismiss than simple.“ She blows on her nails. “He likes you. You like him. It’s the simplest fucking thing ever.”
You don’t say anything, just scowl and sip your coffee. Your best friend is harsh on the best of days, and usually you like it — today, she’s said everything you don’t want to hear.
“Anyway. How's Chaewon? Is she still doing her pirate princess story?”
“She's added a supervillain.”
“Of course she has.” Minji grins, and the conversation slides, mercifully, sideways — into Minji's own things, a promotion she's up for, a guy she's seeing who she's not sure about — and you're grateful for it, for the reminder that your life has edges that don't touch Seungcheol at all, whole rooms of it that are just yours, just Minji's, just the ordinary unremarkable texture of having a friend since you were eight years old. But underneath the rest of the afternoon, everything Minji said keeps surfacing, quiet and insistently plaguing your thoughts.
It's a Tuesday, unremarkable in every way, when Ms. Oh — who owns and runs Little Pines — gathers the staff in the break room after the kids have gone home to go over the calendar for the next month.
“Also,“ she says, near the end, flipping a laminated sheet, “Fire Safety Day's the fourteenth. The station's sending a few of the firemen out to do the usual — stop, drop, roll, let the kids sit in the truck, the whole bit.”
“Cute,“ Soyeon says, refilling her coffee. “The kids’ll love it.”
“Who's coming?” Jiwon asks, because Jiwon asks things you'd rather she didn't, and you’re pretty sure she has a crush on one of Seungcheol’s coworkers, Wonwoo.
“Didn't say. Whoever's on rotation, I'd assume.” Ms. Oh moves on to the field trip permission slips, and you let out a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, and tell yourself, very firmly, that it doesn't matter who's coming. It's a fire station. There are, by your count, eleven firefighters in this town. The odds are fine. The odds are completely fine.
You avoid thinking about Choi Seungcheol for the rest of the day. Which is to say, you think about him constantly for the rest of the day.
The morning of the fourteenth arrives, and the kids are beyond excited. They’ve talking about it for a week — Chaewon's drawn what she insists is a fire truck and what everyone else agrees looks more like a very angry snail, and Taehyun's informed you three separate times, with the grave authority of a man delivering breaking news, that firemen have “actual axes.” You've got the kids lined up in the yard by ten, sunscreen reapplied, hats on, when the truck rolls up the gravel drive with the low satisfying rumble that makes every single child under the age of six lose their entire mind at once.
You see him before the truck's even fully stopped. Of course you do. He's hanging half out of the passenger side before it brakes, waving at the kids (who are adorably excited), and something in your chest does the thing it always does — a small, private, entirely inconvenient drop, like missing a stair in the dark.
Choi Seungcheol climbs down in his full gear, helmet under one arm, and crouches immediately to be at eye level with a cluster of four- and five-year-olds who are looking at him like he's personally invented fire trucks. “Who wants to sit in the driver's seat?” he sings, and the resulting scream from twelve small children could probably be heard three towns over.
He's good at this. You'll give him that, freely, the way you give him most things freely except the one thing he actually asks for. He crouches and jokes and lets Chaewon try on his helmet, which swallows her entire head, and gets down on the ground to show a rapt little semicircle of children how the hose attaches, and doesn't once break character even when Taehyun asks him, with total sincerity, whether he's ever fought a dragon. (“Couple times,” Seungcheol says. “Rough guys, dragons. Mostly it's the smoke.”)
The other two firefighters who've come with him, an older woman named Yerin and Soonyoung, who you’d also gone to high school with, do their parts fine, competent and pleasant and funny, but the kids gravitate to Seungcheol easily and instinctively.
You've managed, for a solid twenty minutes, to stay on the opposite side of the gaggle of kids, ostensibly ensuring Beomgyu keeps his hat on. It doesn't last. Around the time the kids are being herded toward the truck to take turns sitting behind the wheel, he peels off from the group and ambles over, helmet tucked under his arm, looking entirely too good for someone who's just spent twenty minutes being climbed on by preschoolers.
“You've got glitter on your face,” he says, by way of hello.
“I always have glitter on my face. It's basically work uniform at this point.”
“It's a good look on you.” He says it easily, the same way he says everything, but his eyes do a quick pass over you before landing back on your face with that brief dimpled smile, and you hate — hate — the small flicker of warmth that swells in your stomach.
“You didn't have to come,” you say, which isn't true, since he clearly did have to come, it's his job, but it's the fastest thing you can think to say that isn't I hoped you wouldn't and also knew you would.
“Somebody's gotta protect this town's youth from the dangers of unattended candles,“ he says solemnly. “It's a calling.“
“Right. Noble.” You pause. “They’re four, by the way.”
“Extremely noble. You should be nicer to me. I'm basically a public servant.”
“I'm always nice to you.”
“You're the meanest person I know,“ he says, delighted, “and I mean that as a compliment to your commitment.”
“Anyway,” he says, looking over to the truck. “The kids are gonna want to come to the station. We usually do that — let them see where the trucks live and everything. I can set it up with your boss if that's alright with you.”
“Sure,” you say, half-listening, half-watching the kids. You’re pretty sure Beomgyu and Yeonjun are going to trip, chasing each other like that. “Whatever's easiest.”
“You'll come too, right? Chaperone duty?”
“That's generally how field trips work, yes.”
“Good.” He says it satisfied, like it matters, and for just a second something honest surfaces under the joking — you catch it before he tucks it away again, the way you sometimes do, a flash of something steadier than the bit usually allows.
And then, before you can examine that, Chaewon comes sprinting over demanding to know if the truck can go faster than a police car, and he's gone again, crouched down explaining horsepower to a three-year-old with the same total sincerity he used on the dragon question, and you stand there for a second longer than you mean to, watching him, before you make yourself go help Yerin with the hose demonstration instead.
By the time the truck pulls away an hour later, every single kid in the yard is talking about the fire station visit like it's the moon landing. You've got a feeling you won't hear the end of it for a while.
You don't hear the end of it for a while.
For the better part of two weeks, the fire station visit's the single principle of every conversation the four-year-olds have. Taehyun draws the truck again, several times, with increasing and alarming detail about the axes. Chaewon stages an elaborate reenactment during free play in which she plays “the fireman” and assigns you the role of “the person who has to be saved,” which you accept with as much dignity as you can muster while lying on the carpet pretending to be unconscious as a group of kids tug at your legs. Jiwon, of course, finds the whole thing extremely funny.
The days have a way of absorbing whatever's going on with you and continuing regardless, which is, most of the time, a mercy. Circle time happens. Snack time happens. A minor crisis occurs when it's discovered that the class hamster, Mr. Biscuit, has gotten loose sometime overnight, and he's eventually located, after forty tense minutes and one very dramatic search party. Chaewon had refused to take part in said search party, and had instead spent the entire time in the reading corner, insisting Mr. Biscuit would “come back when he was ready,” which, infuriatingly, turns out to be correct.
You also go back to your evenings, which have nothing to do with any of it — a phone call with Yuna where she vents about her job search, an afternoon spent helping Minji repaint her spare room, a Sunday at your mom's where the subject of Seungcheol does not come up even once, a small mercy you're grateful for and slightly suspicious of. Life, in other words, keeps being a whole life, most of which has nothing to do with him at all, which is the thing you keep having to remind yourself of whenever it starts to feel otherwise.
Friday nights, when you're not too wrecked from the week, you go to the bar with Minji and Jimin and a few other friends, because it's the only bar in town worth it. It's not a big fancy place, with its low light, jukebox, and pool table with a wobble in one of the left legs, but it’s the only place to go, really, unless you want to make the drive into the city.
Minji drags you along after a week of promotion nerves and you go willingly enough. The place is familiar enough to be comfortable even after the tiring week you’ve had, but you’re not really looking to drink too much tonight.
You've had a few sips of a cocktail by the time the door opens and a loud group of off-duty firefighters spills in, mid-laugh, and naturally, Seungcheol's in the middle of it. He’s saying something that's got Soonyoung doubled over, and you feel the familiar lurch of oh, here we go before you've even fully processed that he's clocked you across the room.
“Oh, this'll be good,” Minji murmurs into her drink, and you kick her under the table, which only makes her grin wider.
You run into him often, at this bar, so seeing him isn’t really a surprise in itself. He grins at you as he and his friends make their way first to the pool table, and you return the gesture with an awkward nod, and somehow almost drop your drink in the process.
It’s maybe forty five minutes later that he actually comes over to you. He always does, at least once when you run into each other like this, always comes to say hi, which usually leads into some kind of line.
He waves Dohyun, the bartender, over and orders a whiskey on the rocks, and for a while you just talk, as the ice in his drink melts. Easy, unimportant things, the kind of conversation that happens naturally between two people who've known each other long enough that silence isn't awkward, just comfortable. He tells you about a call they had that week, a cat stuck in a drainpipe that took forty-five minutes and drew a crowd. You tell him about Chaewon's ongoing crusade against the concept of naptime, which makes him laugh so hard he has to put his drink down, not that he’s drank much of it. Somewhere in there Minji peels off to go play pool with Jiwon and Soonyoung, throwing you one loaded look over her shoulder on the way that you very deliberately ignore.
Somehow, the two of you have drifted from the bar itself to a booth in the back corner, and Jiwon's gone home with a wave you barely registered, and Minji's deep in a game of pool she's losing badly and loudly to Soonyoung, and you're sitting closer to him than you were an hour ago without being able to say exactly when that happened. He's telling you something about his brother’s wedding, some story about a groomsman and a dropped ring you're only half following because you've gotten distracted by the way he laughs at his own joke before he even finishes it, the way his hand's landed, at some point, loosely on the back of the booth behind your shoulders, close enough that you can feel the warmth of it without him actually touching you.
“You're not listening,” he says, not offended, just observing.
“I'm listening.”
“What'd I just say?”
“Something about a ring.“
“Close enough.“ He's looking at you in a way that feels different from the usual — like he's forgotten, for a second, to be charming about it. “You've got that look.“
“What look?”
“You’re totally zoning out. That look.”
You snort, aiming for humour. “I'm always zoning out around you.“
“I know,” he says, and there's something in his voice, something almost fond and almost sad at once, so much that it makes your levity fall flat and for a moment neither of you says anything at all. Then he smiles, “You always zone out anyway, though. I remember from school.”
“Please.”
“It’s true! I remember it happening in history class and Miss Lee had to snap her fingers in front of your face!”
Heat crawls up your face. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember that! That was in my first week, too, I nearly cried.”
“I remember,” he smiles. “Everyone was talking about the new girl who just moved to town and that was the first time I saw you.”
It's strange, the way ten years can gather themselves into a single quiet second like that — all of it sitting there in the space between his face and yours, close enough now that you can count his eyelashes if you wanted to, which you don't let yourself do, except you do anyway. You think, distantly, of Minji on the porch — he's been standing there with his arms out for a decade — and your mother at the dinner table — sounds like a lot of nothing happening for a very long time — and something in you that's held itself very carefully closed for a very long time simply, without your permission, stops holding.
He leans in, slow enough that you have every opportunity to move. You don't take it.
The kiss, when it happens, isn't clumsy at all, not at first — it's slow, almost unbearably so, like he's been waiting so long for it he's decided to actually take his time now that he's got it, one hand coming up to your jaw so lightly it's almost a question, and you answer it by leaning further in, by letting your hand find the front of his shirt and hold on, and you kiss him back like you mean it, because you do. Then his other hand finds your waist and yours finds the back of his neck and the two of you shift closer in the booth and it turns into something hungrier, less careful.
Somewhere in the bar, distantly, you hear Minji whoop, and you don't even have it in you to be embarrassed.
Then your brain catches up with the rest of you, the way it always eventually does, and you pull back, breathing hard like you've run somewhere. Seungcheol looks a little wrecked, the same way you feel, his hair mussed and his lips a little swollen, and you guess you must look something similar.
“I—” you start, and don't finish, because you don't actually know what comes next.
“Hey,” he says, low, steady, not moving away, his thumb still resting at your jaw like he’s catching up to the fact that you're pulling out of it. “It's okay, just — ”
“I shouldn't have — ” You're already reaching for your bag, your keys, anything to hold onto that isn't him. “I think I had too much to drink.“
“You didn’t even finish your cocktail,” he says, and he's not smiling now, which is somehow worse than if he had been. “Can we just — talk for a second? I've been wanting to say something for a while, and I know the timing's not— ”
“Cheol, I’m sorry — I — I really think I should go,” you’re fumbling with your bag and your words at the same time.
“I'm not trying to freak you out.” He says it gently, both hands visible now, like he's talking someone down off a ledge, which, you suppose, isn't entirely inaccurate. And his voice speeds up a little, because you’re still gathering your things and avoiding his gaze and it’s his turn to trip over his words: “I just — I like you. Like, actually. I know it's always been the bit, with us, and that's fine, that's — I get why. But I'm not messing around right now. I want you to know that. Can we just talk for a se—?” And he cuts himself off, because you’re standing up.
It's the most honest he's ever been with you, stripped clean of the performance, and it terrifies you in a way you don't have language for at eleven-thirty on a Friday with your pulse still loud in your ears. “Please,” he says, softly, so softly, and his hand brushes against yours, feather-soft. You make the mistake of looking, and he’s gazing up at you from the booth, his eyes pleading and brown and warm and serious.
“I have work in the morning,“ you say, which is a lie, and you both know it's a lie, it’s a fuckin Saturday, but he lets you have it anyway, some tired resignation moving through his face.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay. Get home safe.”
Minji catches you by the door, pool cue still in hand, all the teasing gone out of her face the second she sees yours. “Hey,” she says, softer than you've heard her all night. “You good?”
“I don't know,” you say honestly, and she doesn't push, just squeezes your arm once and tells you she'll call a cab for both of you, and you let her, grateful, not for the first time, that she's known you long enough to know exactly when not to push.
You don't remember much of the ride home. Your hands are shaking slightly as you find your keys at your own front door, and you don't look back toward the bar even once, and you lie awake for a long time afterward turning the whole thing over and over in your head like a stone you can't put down, unable to decide which part scares you more — that he said it, or that some traitorous, long-buried part of you wanted to say something back.
You don't see him again for eleven days, which you know because you count, which you're furious with yourself for doing.
Life continues in the meantime, because it does that, indifferent to the small personal catastrophes you're nursing. There are snacks to portion out and scraped knees to bandage and an entire day on the letter Q that takes far longer than it has any right to. Chaewon's fireman reenactments continue unabated, blessedly innocent of the fact that you now flinch slightly every time she mentions the word. Jiwon notices you're off but, for once, has the mercy not to push, which you appreciate more than you tell her.
Sunday dinner happens in the middle of the eleven days, and you spend most of it pushing rice around your plate while your mother and Yuna talk around you, until your mother, halfway through clearing the table, pauses behind your chair and rests a hand briefly on your shoulder. Not asking anything, just letting you know she's noticed, which somehow makes it harder to hold together than if she'd asked directly. Minji calls twice and you let both calls go to voicemail, not because you don't want to talk to her but because you know exactly what she'll say, and you're not ready yet to hear it out loud, even though some louder part of you already knows she'd be right.
The field trip to the fire station is scheduled for the Thursday of that second week, and you've spent a genuinely humiliating amount of effort trying to get out of it. You ask Jiwon, with what you hope is believable casualness, if there’s any possible way Ms Oh would let you skip it and take a parent chaperone instead. She looks at you like you've suggested trading a kidney.
“Absolutely not. Do you know Ms Oh? No. You're going.”
You haven't been able to think of a version of the truth small enough to hand her, so you let it drop, and here you are on Thursday morning, herding twelve overexcited kids onto a rented minibus with the specific dread of someone walking toward a conversation she's been dodging for a week and a half.
The station's a squat brick building on the edge of downtown, garage doors up, two trucks gleaming in the shade, and the kids lose their minds the second the bus door opens. You busy yourself with headcounts and hand-holding, buying yourself as much time as you reasonably can before you have to actually look at him.
When you do, it isn't what you expect, and somehow that's worse.
Seungcheol is polite. That's the word for it, the only word, and it lands like a slap precisely because it's so foreign coming from him. He greets the kids with the same warmth as before — you'll give him that, he never once lets it touch them — crouching down, letting them climb the truck, patiently explaining the same things he explained a month ago in the daycare yard.
There's one second, early on, when he glances up and catches your eye across the garage and something almost warm flickers there on instinct, old habit, ten years of muscle memory — before he seems to remember, visibly, and shuts it down, his face resetting into something careful before he looks away again. You watch it happen and wish, immediately, that you hadn't seen it. But mostly, for the rest of the hour, there's none of the usual spark in his eyes when they pass over you, none of the teasing, none of the warmth that's always, always been there even when you were actively trying to shut it down. He nods at you once, says “morning,“ in a tone you've never heard him use on you before and then turns his attention fully to the kids and doesn't look at you again for the better part of an hour.
It should be a relief. Instead, it fucking stings.
Yerin gives the group tour of the trucks. Soonyoung lets three kids at a time try on a real helmet. Seungcheol does his part competently, kindly, and entirely at arm's length from you, and when the visit wraps up and the kids are being herded back toward the bus in a loose, sunscreen-smelling parade, you find yourself hanging back at the garage door while Jiwon does the headcount, because you can't make yourself walk away without saying something, even though you have no idea what the something is.
“Hey,” you say, inadequately.
He's coiling a length of hose that doesn't especially need coiling. “Hey,” he says, not looking up. “Kids have a good time?”
“They loved it. You're good with them.”
“Yeah, well.” He sets the hose down, finally looks at you, and his face is doing the thing it's been doing all morning — pleasant and closed-off.
“Seungcheol—”
“You should get back to the bus,” he says, not unkindly, which somehow makes it land harder than if he'd been sharp about it. “Don't want to lose a kid on my watch.”
It's a joke, technically, the shape of one, but it comes out flat, missing the thing that always makes his jokes land — that easy, unbothered warmth. You realise, standing there in the wide mouth of the garage with the smell of diesel and rubber hose around you, that you've finally managed it.
“Okay,” you say, because you can't think of anything else, and you turn and walk back to the bus, and don't let yourself look back at the garage until you're sure the kids can't see your face. You spend the entire drive back with a thick lump in your throat and something burning behind your eyes.
You don't sleep well that night, or the two after it. Your brain keeps circling back to the same three minutes in a garage no matter what you try to distract it with. You go through the motions of your days competently enough — nobody at Little Pines seems to notice anything beyond your slightly quieter mood, which you blame on being tired — but underneath the surface you're doing the thing you've always been careful never to do where he's concerned: you're actually thinking about it.
You skip Friday at the bar that week, and the one after, telling Jiwon and Soyeon you're just tired, which is half true. Minji shows up at your apartment uninvited the same night with a bag of takeout and an expression that says she's done waiting for you to call her back, and you let her in because you don't have it in you to pretend anymore, not to her.
“Okay,” Minji says, setting the containers out on your coffee table like she's settling in for a long negotiation, which, you suspect, she is. “Talk. All of it. I already know something happened at the bar, I was there for the whoop-worthy part, I just don't know the rest.”
So you tell her. All of it — the kiss, what he said after, the eleven days, the garage, the way his face had gone so carefully closed you almost hadn't recognised him. Minji listens without interrupting, which for Minji is its own kind of remarkable, and when you finally run out of words she doesn't say I told you so, which you'd braced for, and which you almost wish she had, because instead she just looks at you, steady and a little sad on your behalf, and says, “You know what you have to do.”
“I know what I have to do.”
“So why haven't you done it yet.”
“Because I've never actually done this before,” you admit, and it's the truest thing you've said out loud in two weeks. “Turning him down, that I know how to do. That's years of practice. I don't know how to do the other thing.“
“Nobody knows how to do the other thing,” Minji says, not unkindly. “You just do it anyway.”
You think about the ten years of it, after she leaves, sitting alone with the takeout containers cooling on your table — the prom, the rain, the coffee you never got, the wedding you didn't go to as anyone's plus-one, every single time you took the easy warm shape of his affection and handed it back to him like something you couldn't use.
You think about how none of it ever once made him flinch, how you told yourself that meant it didn't matter to him, when really (you can see it now, uncomfortably clearly) it probably meant the opposite. It meant he’d turned the flirting into a joke on purpose, so a no from you never actually cost him anything. But then — keeping it up, over and over, for years, because some idiotic, hopeful part of him had apparently decided you were worth that particular patience.
And you'd spent that same decade telling yourself it was nothing more than a bit, because the alternative — that it wasn't nothing, that it never had been, and that you might actually want it back — was a door you weren't ready to open.
By Sunday you’ve waded into your thoughts deep enough that you can't ignore it anymore. You sit on your kitchen counter with a cup of tea you're not drinking and you make yourself actually look at the thing you've kept in the drawer for ten years, and what you find, when you finally look, isn't complicated at all. It never was. You'd just been very good at making it look that way.
It occurs to you, sitting there with your tea going cold, that obviously, you’ve dated other people since the ninth grade, even been serious with one or two, and none of them ever tied you up in knots the way this has.
It’s not that they mattered less. It’s that none of them were Choi Seungcheol, who’d been the easiest person in your entire year to like, who’d had half the school a little bit in love with him since he was fifteen, and you’d been so sure back then that a boy like that leaning against your locker was a joke because the alternative — that he meant it, about you, specifically — just didn’t make sense.
It had been simpler, safer, to decide it was just Seungcheol being Seungcheol, the same warmth he handed out to the woman at the post office and the bartender at and anyone else unlucky enough to be standing in front of him, and to file yourself in with all of them instead of letting yourself be the one exception.
You call Jiwon, because you've run out of ways to have the conversation only with yourself, and because Minji's already said her piece and you want, this once, a second voice saying the same thing back to you before you trust it.
“Okay,” Jiwon says, once you've gotten through the whole thing, sitting cross-legged on your kitchen floor with your phone on speaker and a second cup of tea gone cold beside you. “So let me get this straight. You've liked him since — what, ninth grade?”
“I didn't say I liked him since ninth grade.”
“You basically said that.”
“I said I'd been turning him down since ninth grade, that's a different thing. I think it started as something silly. I haven’t been, you know, pining around for him for a decade straight, and neither has he.”
You can hear her moving around her own kitchen, a cupboard opening and closing. “Yeah, well. It seems like he’s been waiting for a chance for a decade, though.”
You don’t have anything to say to that. Jiwon continues anyway, so you don’t have a chance. “I genuinely thought you two just had a bit going. A little routine. I didn't realise that it was unresolved feelings the entire time, and I consider myself a fairly perceptive person, so, congratulations, you've out-repressed even me.”
“That's not a compliment.”
“It's not not a compliment.” A pause. “You're going to go find him, right? Not just think about it for another week.”
Your nose scrunches. “I might.”
“Don't. Go tonight. Or tomorrow. Just — don't let this be a thing you circle for another decade, you've circled it long enough.”
You laugh, the first real laugh you've managed in days, and it loosens something in your chest that's been sitting there, tight and small, since the fire station garage. “Tomorrow,” you say. “I'll go tomorrow.”
“Good. And tell me everything after. I mean everything.”
“I'm not going to tell you everything.“
“You're going to tell me everything,” Jiwon says, with total confidence, and hangs up before you can argue, which, you have to admit, is probably the correct read of the situation.
You find him on Tuesday evening, off shift, at the little park two streets from the station where you know — because everyone in a town this size knows everyone's habits eventually, whether they mean to or not — he sometimes goes to shoot free throws alone on the cracked half-court when he's got something on his mind.
Your hands are unsteady the whole drive over, and twice you nearly turn around, and both times you think of Minji on your couch, of your mother's hand on your shoulder, of Jiwon's voice on the phone, and you keep driving.
He sees you before you reach the fence, ball tucked under one arm, and for a second his face does something complicated — surprise, then that same careful, contained politeness from the fire station, sliding down over it like a shade.
“Hey,“ he says. “Everything okay? Kids alright?”
“The kids are fine. I'm not here about the kids.” Your voice sounds horribly strained. If he notices, he doesn’t comment, just waits, bouncing the ball once against the cracked asphalt like he needs something to do with his hands.
“I've been an idiot,“ you say, which isn't how you'd planned to start, but it's true, at least. “For, honestly, a really long time. I don't know how to say the rest of it in a way that doesn't sound like I practised it in my car on the way here, so I'm just going to tell you I practised it in my car on the way here and say it anyway.“
That gets the smallest flicker of something across his face — not quite a smile, but the ghost of one.
“I think I started off thinking you were teasing me, back in school. I thought it was a joke when you asked me to prom. And then after that I just needed you to be joking, because to me it didn’t make sense for you to be serious. And because the alternative meant I had to admit I wanted it too, and I didn't know what to do with that, so I kept handing it back to you instead.”
He sets the ball down against his hip, quiet, still watching you with an expression you can't fully read.
“And at the bar,” you say, “I panicked because I think I realised you meant it, and I realised I did too, and then, I don’t know, I just totally freaked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously and I kept brushing you off and I was mean when you didn’t deserve it, and I’m really, really sorry.”
He's quiet for a moment, turning the ball slowly in his hands, and when he speaks again some of the careful politeness has gone out of his voice, replaced by something rawer, more tired. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t mean it. It was just — in high school, yeah, I had a crush on you. And then after, there would be whole stretches where I wouldn’t even think about it. I mean, you went to college and I went to the academy, and — then you’d show up again and, I don’t know. Especially when you moved back.” He pauses — the ball slips out of his hands, and you both watch it bounce to a stop. “You were always worth asking,” he says, finally. “I wanted the chance again, every time, even if you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
“I'm really sorry,” you say, and you mean it.
“Okay,” he says, soft, and something in his shoulders loosens. “Practised in your car,” he repeats, and there — there it is, the corner of his lips turning up, small and a little disbelieving, like he isn't sure yet whether to trust it.
“Don't gloat.”
“I'm not gloating. I'm saving this for later. I'm going to bring it up constantly.”
“There he is,” you say, and your own eyes are stinging in a way you choose to blame on the wind, and he crosses the distance between you, slower than at the bar, giving you every chance to step back, and you don't, and this time when he kisses you, there's nothing careless in it at all.
an: i did not intend for this to be so complicated i rewrote this three times with different plots and editing took way way longer than intended. idk. it’s nearly 4am and i need to sleep.
Pairing ✨ Wonwoo x Female OC (ft. Jeonghan + Mingyu)
Synopsis ✨ When you had a baby with your on and off again situationship/ best friend, you couldn't cope. He and his friends took care of the baby whilst you got the help you needed. Now she's four, you're all living together and somehow all four of you are trying to navigate being normal 30 year olds and raising your daughter.
🩵 Very much a take on Three Men And A Little Lady (six year old me's favourite film) 🩵
Genre ✨ found family, fluff, angst, smut
Plot warnings ✨found family but also all their families are supportive, Wonwoo is a surgeon, Mingyu is a vlogger, Jeonghan is rich? (stay at home dad), OC is an artist, their daughter is called Areum (referred to as Areum and Ari), Wonwoo isn't the biological dad, descriptions of struggling to cope, postnatal depression (this is only really explicitly talked about at the start), very brief reference to abortion, she leaves the baby with the guys, Jeonghan being an absolute supportive king, IDIOTS in love, Jeonghan and Mingyu are unhelpful to the max when it comes to oc and Wonwoo's relationship, bi Jeonghan, Jeonghan struggling to come to terms with being bi, drinking, misunderstandings, Seokmin slander (he's a terrible date), spiralling, Wonwoo hating every child that isn't theirs, they're all the best girl dads there's ever been, mentions of cheating and homewrecking (there isn't any, OC is just a grade A idiot), sort of cliff hanger ending but it's obvious what'll happen and I'm going to do a little follow up to this when I get round to it
Smut warnings ✨ oral m.receiving/ dildo receiving(?), use of sex toys (aforementioned dildo), dom Wonwoo, deep throating, choking, body worship, Wonwoo is big, slight finger sucking (it has been pointed out I almost always include this so I'm just doubling down on the finger sucking), slight body insecurity (it's more nerves really), mating press, fluffy yet filthy sex?, unprotected sex-ish (she is on birth control), possessive Wonwoo, slight possessive OC, marking (back scratches), creampie, A LOT of saying I love you, slight cum play
Word count ✨ 19.5k
a/n ✨ I have deleted this no less than three times, written about ten other stories when I decided it was rubbish and then fell in love with the idea again and finally got my shit together and rewrote it. So this has been sitting in my drafts since I finished it, waiting for the loml's birthday (why does it feel like Wonwoo has been away for 300 years? I swear they're making my man do double the amount of time). And it took a lot of self restraint to not give one of them a comically large mustache so it was more like the original film. I won't be uploading anything for a few weeks because life is about to be hectic, so I hope you enjoy this little piece of chaos for Wonwoo's birthday!
Four Years Ago:
“What do you think you're going to do with those?"
“Defend us?" Mingyu says it like it should be obvious, holding his hair straighteners aloft ready to fight off anyone and everyone.
“Oh you'll really show whoever it is you mean business in that fluffy robe."
“Fuck you Wonwoo, at least…."
“Shut up! Let's just…take a deep breath,” Jeonghan dramatically breathes in and out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two? People hardly ring the buzzer if they're about to rob or murder you."
“You don’t know that Wonwoo," Jeonghan holds up a finger to shut him up.
“Yeah, it might just be a really polite murderer," Mingyu adds.
“Pair of fucking idiots."
"You shouldn't let him talk to you like that, it's your penthouse Jeonghan,"
“I pay rent! Try it sometime Mingyu!" Wonwoo hollers as he struts to the front door.
"He's really fucking mean when he's tired.”
"He is right dude, it's been months since you paid me rent.”
"You're a gazillionaire.”
"It's the gesture, y'know?”
"Whatever,” Mingyu rolls his eyes as they come to stand at the front door either side of Wonwoo.
"Well. Open it then,”
"Oh noooooow you're not so brave!”
"I just think it's your penthouse, you should open the door."
“Mingyu," Jeonghan turns to his friend, “open the door."
“Why me?!"
“You've got the straighteners."
“And you're built like a house." Wonwoo chimes in.
“And what’ll happen when you give me a complex huh? Who'll be the butt of your jokes then?”
"Still you.”
"Just open the door Mingyu!” Jeonghan barks, clearly having had enough of his two best friends come roommates.
"Alright! There's no need to shout!”
He wraps his hand around the doorknob, taking a deep breath as his two friends shift awkwardly on their feet, dreading whatever is behind the door. Because nothing good ever comes of unannounced guests at three in the morning.
Mingyu flings the door open and they all frown, there's nobody there? Had they spent so long arguing that whoever it was walked off in boredom? Or it was just some kids messing about? But this is the penthouse of one of the most exclusive buildings in the city, you can't get up here without a code.
A babbling shocks them though.
“Is that?"
“What the hell?"
“Is that a……”
A baby's giggle makes them all jump back.
"How did it ring the buzzer?” Mingyu whispers to Wonwoo.
"There's a note idiot.” Jeonghan reaches down but pauses when he sees his name written on the envelope.
“It knows your name?" Mingyu asks in wonder.
"Did you go to school?”
"Hey fuck you Wo…" he stops himself when he realises he's sworn in front of the baby.
“Are you gonna, y’know, open it?" Wonwoo presses.
“O-oh, yeah sure,"
His fingers shake as he opens the envelope, a weird feeling of doom hanging over him.
Jeonghan,
I don't even know what to write. I guess I should start with I'm sorry? I know we were nothing serious, I know I just stopped picking up your calls but I just didn't know what to do.
I've tried Jeonghan, I really have but I can't do it. I can't be what she needs, I can't be what I need right now.
I feel like I'm sinking and I can't take her down with me, she deserves someone, anyone other than me.
Her name's Areum, she's two months old and she's yours. And don't worry, you have my full permission to do a DNA test. I wouldn't trust me either. I've put her favourite blanket and teddy bear in her bag, there's some formula too and some clean clothes.
Just know that I tried. Please please know that I really did try my best for her.
And tell her mommy loves her, I'm just doing what's best for her. My best was just never going to be good enough for her or anyone.
I hope you'll both forgive me,
______
“_____!" Jeonghan throws the note at Wonwoo and sprints to the elevator.
He needs to find you, he needs to get to you. He knew it was weird you stopped picking up the phone but you're a free spirit, always have been ever since you both met at university.
He should've kept calling, he should've hammered your fucking door down.
You've had a baby, you've had his baby and you've done it all on your fucking own. Sure, it wasn't planned, you two just fooled around whenever you were drunk and single at the same time. It was reckless and stupid but you both got what you needed and so you didn't see a problem with it. But he'd never desert you, he'd never not step up to be what you and the baby needed. You're his friend and he loves you, he should've shown you that. Maybe then you wouldn't be in this state.
He slams the button again and again until eventually the doors open and he rushes in. A part of him hoped you'd still be in here but it's just silence, so silent he feels like he can hear his heart beat.
The doors open in the foyer and he was rushes out onto the street, his head in his hands as he looks up and down over and over again hoping to spot you disappearing into the distance.
But it's no use.
You've already disappeared.
You've disappeared and he's got no way of finding out if you're ok.
What the fuck is he thinking he knows you're not ok but that only makes everything so much worse. He's not bothered you didn't tell him about the baby, he's not bothered you've had the baby at the moment, his concern is you and whatever state of mind you're in.
But he knows he can't do anything about it at three in the morning. As soon as the hour is a bit more reasonable, he'll call your parents, he'll call your old school friends, fuck he’ll call the police if he has to. But he will make sure you're ok. He owes you that much.
At some point his feet bring him back to his apartment, the door slams behind him and he finds his two best friends watching a baby he didn't know existed ten minutes, as it bounces in its carrier.
“Did you find her?"
“She's gone,"
“We'll find her Jeonghan, I promise." Mingyu squeezes his shoulder.
“I don't know what to do," Jeonghan whispers, staring down at a baby that has his eyes.
“We take care of her." Wonwoo mumbles.
“_____ or the baby?"
“Both."
“Yoon Areum if you don’t get down here right now I’ll send Mingyu up there!” Jeonghan booms up the stairs.
“What’s Mingyu gonna do, paint their nails together?”
“He’s got a new thing where he pretends to cry because he realised she’ll do as she’s told then,” You tell Wonwoo as you sip your coffee.
“That’s manipulation.”
“And you reading her the dictionary is child cruelty.” Jeonghan fires back as he pours pancake batter in the pan on the stove.
“Excuse me? I think you’ll find that our daughter has the reading age of a high schooler.”
“She also has the reading tastes of an old lady,”
“Jeonghan’s right, I found her reading Agatha Christie the other day.”
“One of the greatest female writers of all time,” Wonwoo says proudly.
“It’s about murder Wonwoo.” You deadpan.
“Murder happens. It’s better she knows.”
“She’s four!” Jeonghan spins round.
“This is just another thing that they’re going to use against us,” you groan and rest your head on the kitchen island.
Wonwoo and Jeonghan share a look. You’d been panicking, they all knew it. For the past almost four years you’ve all been living together at Jeonghan’s penthouse. You’d been friends for years but when you found out you were pregnant you just spiralled. Like massively spiralled. You shut everyone off, ashamed that you’d fucked up so much. Sure you weren’t a complete mess but you were in no way ready for a baby. You’d made an appointment, you were going to go to the clinic and the whole thing would be over.
But when it came to it. You just couldn’t. You ran away from the clinic and away from everyone in your life. Even at the hospital, when you were giving birth, they pleaded with you to let them contact your parents or the father but you just wouldn’t. You were adamant this was your fuck up and you’d deal with it.
And then she arrived, the most beautiful baby you’d ever seen in your life. You took her back to your apartment and then things just went from bad to worse. You couldn’t get out of bed, you couldn’t eat, you just couldn’t function and you knew you were letting her down. You weren’t even looking after yourself well enough that she had enough milk, she had to go onto formula and that was just another thing that showed you how shit a mother you were. No matter how many times the medical visitor said it was totally normal for some mothers not to be able to feed as well as others and not to blame yourself, you still did. You were letting her down.
You brought her into this world and now you were letting her down. It was when she’d been crying for hours and you were sobbing on the floor that you knew you had to do something. It wasn’t loving her right to try and struggle through, it was loving her more to not be around her. You’d just ruin her life. You already were ruining her life.
Your parents would help. You knew they would. They’re well off, you’d never wanted anything in life, hell they’d even let you live at home for years until your paintings finally started selling and you could sustain yourself. But if anything that made it worse. You came from a good family. You’d made yourself a more than comfortable life, you had enough money to do whatever you wanted which is pretty rare for a 26 year old.
So if money and family and surroundings weren’t the reason you were struggling so much to give your baby what she needed. The only problem, the only common denominator in how shit life was for you and Areum. Was you.
Jeonghan was a good man, you’d been friends for years and he had a good family. Better than good. One of the richest families in Korea though they were somehow a close knit loving family in spite of the money and power they had. They’d look after her. And that’s what she needed, people that loved her like you but weren’t fucking terrible at everything.
It broke you to leave her. It broke you to see Jeonghan running after you. If he’d have just run down the stairwell instead of taking the elevator, he’d have found you.
You wanted to walk away but you couldn’t.
Not until you knew she was safe in his hands.
The next day he sat outside your apartment until you finally answered, telling you that he had all the time in the world because Wonwoo and Mingyu were knee deep in diapers. Eventually you answered and he didn’t shout or scream. He just sat and listened and held you when you cried. By the end of that week you’d seen a doctor, your mom, Jeonghan’s mom and Jeonghan with you, as the doctor told you that none of it was your fault and you weren’t a bad mother. A bad mother would never wait to make sure her daughter was safe. A bad mother wouldn’t have realised how bad the situation was for you or the baby. They diagnosed you with post natal depression and you spent a couple of weeks with your parents.
The guys would bring Areum by every couple of days and between her smiling face and the chaos of the three men who had come to dote on her, you gradually got better.
After a few weeks Jeonghan suggested you move in with them. He had more than enough room for you to have your own space and they’d even decided to turn the home gym into Areum’s bedroom for when she was old enough to sleep on her own. They’d bought everything they needed for a baby and more besides. And when you said you weren’t sure, all three of them descended on you saying it was what they all wanted. They wanted to be there and surely the more help, the better.
You agreed and the rest is history.
It wasn’t always easy but it worked. She had three men who would do anything for her, who you see in her ever flourishing personality and you’d managed to become the mother she deserved. It didn’t stop you doubting yourself or worrying about what people thought but with three of the best cheerleaders in the world on your side, life was good. A bit mad. But good.
“He’s on the phone to Hyeji anyway, they’re probably going you hang up , no you hang up. There’s more chance of Ari throwing up than doing what she’s told.”
“I like her! She’s been good for him!”
“I’m not saying she hasn’t, I just wish they didn’t live in two different countries, I’m sick of hearing them having phone sex.”
You and Jeonghan grimace at that.
Mingyu and his girlfriend met online. They’re vloggers. Or bloggers. Or….something to do with going to cafes and eating too much food on the internet. He makes decent money off it, even enough to pay Jeonghan all the rent he owed him over the years, but you’ve no idea how he makes money off just wandering around the city when it’s raining and then drinking an overpriced latte. But he’s happy and that’s all that matters.
“When are you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend?” You turn on your stool to smirk at Jeonghan.
“I don’t have one.”
“Oh please, you’re always smiling at your phone.”
“Do you not think it’s weird to try and pimp out your baby daddy?”
“Not at all, I’m just trying to get you to leave the house.”
“It’s not my fault I’ve somehow become a maid for you three and our daughter. Talking of her, AREUM YOU HAVE TILL THREE OR I’M COMING UP THERE,” He marches off with his hands on his hips.
“It’ll all be fine you know,”
“I know it will you,” you sigh as you turn back to Wonwoo, “it’s just I know people will think it’s weird and I don’t really care about them, I just don’t want them to take it out on Ari.”
“Ari can handle herself.” Wonwoo nods, smiling.
“I know but this is the first time she’s going to be around normal families,”
“Hey, there is nothing normal. And she’s one of the most well adjusted, intelligent, beautiful little girls I’ve ever met. And I’m a doctor so I should know.”
“You’re a heart surgeon,” you narrow your eyes at him, “how many kids have heart attacks?”
“It happens,” he shrugs, “but I see them in the hospital, roaming around the place like feral animals. She’s way better than other kids.”
“I’m not sure you can say that,”
“Well I did,” he takes a slice of toast as a flustered Jeonghan stomps back into the kitchen.
“She wants Wonwoo to do her hair, apparently the way I do plaits is wrong.”
“I am good with my hands,” Wonwoo beams, throwing his toast down as he rushes off to do your daughter's hair.
He’s no idea what he’s just said or the road your mind is currently travelling down but Jeonghan smiles knowingly at you watching Wonwoo disappear up the stairs and goes back to making pancakes.
“Why don’t you just tell him?”
“Tell who what?”
“Tell Wonwoo how you feel.”
“He’s already asked me how I’m feeling today, it’s a big day, you’ve all asked me.”
“Don’t get smart with me _____, I know you better than anyone.”
It’s true. He does. You’d realised pretty early on, probably before you even had Areum, that you and Jeonghan worked really well together. But it’s very much just as friends. It was just letting off steam whenever you had sex, like a weird situationship where you were best friends until you were both horny and then you were both just means to an end.
It worked. There was no jealousy or arguing about other people because you knew you didn’t love each other like that. You did love each other but like he’s a family member. You loved that you both brought Areum into the world. And that’s lucky. Because couples break up all the time and ruin their kid’s lives. But you two are best friends raising your child with your two other friends and if anything, you feel more secure than you would in a relationship and raising a child.
“What do you want me to say?” You whine quietly.
“Tell Wonwoo….”
“Tell Wonwoo what?” The man himself jumps down the bottom step of the stairs whilst a very excited Areum runs at you.
“Mommy! Can you please tell him that I wasn’t late. I’m right on time, we only start at 9am.”
“I thought it was 8:30?”
“That’s what mommy told you but it’s because you’re always late.”
“Are you serious?!” Jeonghan spins round, almost knocking the pancakes off the counter.
“You are always late.” You dismiss him.
“You,” he points at his daughter with the spatula, “come here and eat these pancakes. I demand it.”
“Is there syrup?” Ari asks, her hands on her hips, the complete double of her father.
“Obviously. I’m not a monster.”
“Ok then,” she giggles and Jeonghan scoops her up into his arms as they flip the last pancake.
“What did you need to tell me?” Wonwoo asks softly as he sits back down.
“O-oh!” Fuck you need to think of something convincing, “I er, I have an appointment at the hospital and it’s around lunch time.”
“Ok?” His eyebrows knit together, “It’s nothing serious is it? Anything I can do?”
“No! No, it’s just a dermatologist appointment. Not that I have a rash or something! It’s just a follow up about some dry skin.” Fuck, shut the hell up ______.
“Thanks for letting me know? I guess?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch? What with me being there and you being there and us living together, y’know as friends.”
He sits in silence until you finish whatever bullshit is coming out of your mouth.
“Sorry _____, I have plans for lunch.”
Of course he fucking does. You weren’t even going to tell him you were going to the hospital, you’d be happily eating your breakfast if it wasn’t for fucking Jeonghan.
“No problem!” You smile fakely and grab the jam.
“We could…..”
But you don’t hear Wonwoo’s gentle voice because Jeonghan launches a pancake so high into the air that it sticks to his ten foot ceilings and chaos ensues.
The rest of the morning passes in a whirlwind of a messy kitchen, photos with all of you and Areum before her first day at school and then Jeonghan and Wonwoo trying to calm you and Mingyu down as you both bawl in the back of the car about how your baby is all grown up.
Why do they insist on putting the pharmacy in hospitals so far away from literally everything? You swear you've been round this hospital five times and it's not like you've not been following the signs, you have.
You thought you'd finally found it. There seemed to be a gaggle of people huddled around and you presumed they were waiting for meds but instead you stumbled on the cafeteria.
It is lunch time. And you have walked thirty four miles in search of the pharmacy so you don't suppose it'd hurt to get something to eat. You haven't got too long until you'll need to pick Ari up from school. You and Mingyu had said you'd go mainly because you've both been checking your phones every ten minutes in case she'd fallen to the ground in a fit of tears declaring she needed her mommy. But she hadn't, it was you that felt like you needed your mom.
You settle on just grabbing a drink from the fridges. The place is packed and you won't be the person that takes the spot in the queue for food from an overworked doctor because you're bored and in a mood about pharmacies.
Grabbing a soda and closing the door, you're ready to head to pay when you hear a name you know better than most. You don't know the voice speaking it, but you definitely know the name.
You search through the tables, hoping to spot him. You know he said he was busy but surely he wouldn't object to you saying hello, you do raise a child together after all.
Just how many tables are in this fucking cafeteria?! You can't spot him for shit, maybe you were wrong, maybe it wasn't his name. But then you spot him and you feel like throwing your bottle of soda at the man at the table in front of you.
He's smiling, the same smile you love so much, at a woman. Yes, not the most damning of situations to find him in, but he's still laughing. And if anything they're sitting pretty close to each other. Too close in your opinion, they should be at least two metres away from each other to make it decent. It's just those two at the table and they're chatting and laughing and probably falling in love and forgetting you or Ari exist completely.
You’re not sure why you're so pissed off but why hadn't he just said he had a date. They've all been on dates since you've lived there. You have one firm rule. They don't bring anyone into Areum’s life until they know they're serious about them. She doesn't need hundreds of people in her life and it confuses her.
It was a good rule. It worked. Not that you've ever used it, you haven't been on a single date since you had her. But it worked in general for you all as a family but right now? You'd quite like it if the rule was that none of them go out of the house except for work and even then they can't speak to anyone else that isn't you.
Well.
You're not so bothered about the rule for Mingyu and Jeonghan but for Wonwoo? No. He needs to be chained to his desk or something so this woman can't get near him.
You need to get out of here, you can't risk him seeing you, fuck knows what you'd end up saying. It'd either be sobbing that you loved him or you'd aim the soda you've just put back in the fridge at his little girlfriend's head.
You rush back to the car, you'll get your cream the doctor prescribed another time, and slam the door behind you.
Why did you think he'd ever think of you as anything more than Areum’s mom?
Thank fuck you didn't listen to Jeonghan. If you'd have told Wonwoo exactly how you feel and he turned round and said “Cool. Here's my girlfriend." You'd never be able to step foot out of your bedroom again. Ari would need to tell her friends that her mom was like a modern day Mrs Haversham and you'd just get little updates from Jeonghan through the door.
You've no idea what takes over you. But you do something you swore you'd never do. You'd always claimed it was like wading through the depths of hell.
But you do it anyway.
You take out your phone. And you download tinder.
"Does every breakfast need to be so dramatic?” Wonwoo groans, looking at you. But frowns a little when he realises you're not really paying attention to him. He likes your little chats whilst all the chaos unfolds around you both.
"Ari, come here let me do your hair.”
"Woowoo does my hair."
“Just," you sigh, scratching your brow, “come here. He's eating his breakfast,"
“I don't mind……”
"It's fine,” you don’t look at him and just turn Ari around when she comes over so you can do her hair.
"I was thinking we could have burgers for dinner. I got some steak and I want to try the new mincer thing I bought.”
"Yeeees!!!” Mingyu and Ari shout together.
"I can't, I've got plans.”
The three men stop eating their breakfasts and stare at you, the cereal from Mingyu’s spoon falling from his spoon.
"With who?”
"A friend.” You finish plaiting Areum’s hair and pat her bum to send her back to her chair.
"I thought we were your friends.”
“Yeah! What she said!" Jeonghan points at Ari, frowning at you.
“I do have a life, Jeonghan."
“Is it a new friend?" Mingyu asks bluntly.
“I met them on that thing." You mumble, not really wanting to have this conversation in front of Ari.
“What thing?" Wonwoo demands next to you, his face like thunder.
“The thing where people meet new friends."
They all share blank stares as Areum happily eats her cereal, her little legs swinging.
"What?”
"I met someone on tinder.” You say loudly and the silence that follows is palpable.
"What's a tinder?”
"It's, er, well,” shit you didn't want to just blurt that out, this is the first time you're using the dating rule and it's already going wrong, "it's….."
“It's something you use to start a fire."
“Why would mommy be starting fires?"
“I won't be," you glare at Mingyu, why the hell would he mention fires to a four year old?!
“You're going to start a fire with your new friend?"
“I'm just going to dinner with my new friend honey, there's no fire."
“Is she nice?"
“Yeah," Wonwoo glares, Mingyu and Jeonghan lowering themselves slightly in their seats, “is she nice?"
"Seems to be,” you shrug, not being drawn into admitting it's very much a man that you're going to dinner with.
"I think it's nice you have a friend mommy. I made some friends at school and I really like them. I think your friends will make you happy like my friends make me happy.”
"Hopefully,”
"Can I come?”
"Not this time honey, it's a fancy restaurant anyway, you won't like the food,” you tickle her tummy and make her giggle.
"Does that mean you'll get to dress like a princess?”
"I don't know, I haven't decided what to wear yet.”
"I think,” she puts her spoon down and kneels up on her chair so she can lean over to you, her little hands on your cheeks, "you always look like a princess. And," she puts her head close to yours so she can whisper to you, “don't forget that I'm your best friend mommy."
"I won't honey,” you take her little hands and place a kiss on each palm, "c’mon let's get you to school, if we hurry we can leave these three with all this mess.”
"Good plan mommy,” she whispers back and runs off to get her stuff.
"Soooooo,” Jeonghan says once Areum is out of earshot, "you're going on a date?”
"Is that not allowed?”
"I-it is!” Mingyu rushes to add in but throws a tentative glance at Wonwoo, "I just didn't know you were looking for that right now.”
"I haven't been on a date since I had Ari. In fact it was probably like two years before that. And you three all see people, no matter how much you hide it. Or think you do.”
They all frown at each other, Jeonghan rolling his eyes a little because he presumes you're talking about him and whoever you think he's seeing.
"Just, be careful.”
"Do you say that to Wonwoo or Mingyu?!”
"_____,” he groans, "I'm just looking out for you!”
"Well thanks,” you scrape your chair back and stand up to take your daughter to school, "but I'm 30 years old. I can't just watch everyone live their lives. What happens when you all get married and move out? I'll just be on my own!”
"Who said anything about getting married?!” Jeonghan shouts after you but you ignore him.
You're going on this date. Whether they like it or not.
You're an idiot. If you were to look up the word idiot in the dictionary there'd just be a huge fucking picture of you holding a big sign that reads "here's the world’s biggest idiot.”
Why did you think a date would be a good idea? Especially with someone who you've spent a grand total of forty hours talking to. But then when you subtract sleeping, panicking over what to reply and washing weird stains out of Ari's clothes, you'd probably spent closer to about two hours speaking to your date.
And you wish you hadn't.
Seokmin seemed nice enough when you matched with him. He was hot. He had a good job. He was the right age. But he spent the whole night laughing at everything you said.
You're hilarious, or you and Areum think you are anyway, but you literally said "do you want some bread?” And he more or less started rolling around on the floor laughing. You've no idea if it was a nervous habit or whether he was just on really hard drugs that made him think the simplest word was the funniest thing he's ever heard.
Whatever it was, when he dropped you home (around the corner because you didn't want this cackling creep to know where you lived), you vowed to delete tinder off your phone.
On your short walk home, you've prepared yourself for life.
You'll live your life painting, something you already do, but now you're a spinster you'll do it much more dramatically. You'll no longer paint landscapes, which is what you specialise in now. You'll become one of those artists that throws paint at things and then says it shows the bleak end that human civilization is heading for.
And you'll buy a cat. Or a dog. Or maybe a farm.
Jeonghan would probably take Areum, you've proved you can't look after her on your own. Fuck. You need to stop that, you can't start spiralling down that hole again because of this one set back.
Areum can come with you to the farm. You can be that weird mother and daughter that live on the edge of a forest and scare people as they go for hikes. She’d like that.
One thing is for sure, you're done dating. It isn't for you. You'll just have to wait until they've all got married, take the pitying looks from everyone as they see you gradually turn to peak eccentricity and then leave for your farm by the forest.
You take a deep breath before you open the apartment door and then enter the code. Everyone will be in bed, it's pretty late. But it's just knowing that at some point you're going to have to tell them that it was all pointless, that you'd embarrassingly chosen the weirdest man you could to go on a date with.
The apartment is dark other than a lamp they've left on for you and you head straight for the kitchen. You need a glass of wine and you didn't dare drink on your date for fear the laughing idiot made a move you weren't ready for.
The fridge light makes you squint and you grab the wine, wondering whether weird old ladies prefer red or white. It's probably rosé.
The wine glugs as you pour it. And then glugs a bit more as you fill it perilously close to the top.
“Bad night?"
“Fuck!" You spill wine on the kitchen counter, “shit."
“I’ve got it," Wonwoo rushes from his stool and grabs a cloth.
“I didn't know you were there," you shake the wine off your hand and put the bottle back in the fridge.
"Needed a glass of water,”
You just hum and take your glass of wine.
"Night then.”
"Wait,” you stop on your way to your bedroom, "do you not want to talk about it?”
"There's nothing to talk about. It was a date.” You still don't turn to look at him.
"Have I done something to upset you?”
"No.”
"Then why won't you turn around?”
"I'm going to bed.”
"Was he cruel or something?”
"Nope, it was fine."
You hear him sigh but you can't face him. It's fucking embarrassing knowing they're all moving on in life and you're stuck where you are.
“Goodnight," you mumble quietly and rush off to your room.
Wonwoo watches you go. He doesn't understand what's going on or why you've suddenly decided to download tinder. But hopefully, eventually, one of them can figure it out.
It turns out you were wrong. That photo of you in the dictionary with your big sign declaring yourself the world’s biggest idiot is now wrong. You now need a sign that reads “the universe’s biggest idiot” because as you lie on your daughter’s bed, your head pounding and your whole body cringing in horror, you can’t think of a single thing you’ve done that’s made you feel as horrible or as guilty as you do now.
Last night:
“Do you think I need to ring your mom again?
“No,” Jeonghan sighs.
“My mom?”
“_____ seriously she’s only gone for two nights and she’s with all of her grandparents, if anything she won’t even remember we exist.”
“You don’t think she loves us?”
“Why are you always such a whiney drunk?”
“I used to be a horny drunk but look where that got us.”
“I don’t think we’ve done too badly,” Jeonghan smiles as he leans against the kitchen counter with you.
“True,” you knock your beer back and squint into the distance, “do you know any of these people? I swear I only know Wonwoo in that whole crowd.”
“Nope. But Mingyu’s happy and he’s stopped crying because he’s turning thirty so I’ll happily take the loud music and an apartment full of strangers.”
You hum and take another sip of your drink.
“Why didn’t you bring someone?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he smirks at you.
“I haven’t got anyone to bring.” You turn away from him, your eyes drifting to Wonwoo who's trying to leave the little makeshift dance floor before Mingyu makes him dance with him again.
“Me neither.”
“Why do you keep doing that? I know you’re seeing someone, why can’t you just tell me?”
“I’m…..Fuck…..” He looks at the ceiling with worried eyes.
“Do I know her or something?”
“It’s…..It’s not a she.”
If you weren’t four beers in, your brain might not need quite so long to catch up with what he’s just said. But you’ve always been a light weight which means Jeonghan has to wait awkwardly whilst you realise what he’s just said.
“A he?” You turn to him fully, putting your beer down.
“Hm-mm,” He looks down.
“Is he nice to you?”
“What?” He frowns.
“Is he kind?”
“Yes?”
“Good.” You nod, “That’s all that matters.”
“That’s it?”
“Jeonghan, I just want you to be happy. If you’ve realised that happiness is with a man, then that’s great.”
“You’re the first one I’ve told. I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks.” He says like he’s had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I knew you were up to something,” You narrow your eyes at him and poke his chest, “I love you Jeonghan.”
He pulls you in for a hug mumbling an “I love you too” with a roll of his eyes. It’s clear he’s been worrying about telling you, or even anyone, about who he was seeing but why, you don’t know.
“Thank you _____,”
“What for?” You ask into his shoulder.
“Everything. I’ve got the most beautiful little girl and an amazing life. Just. Thank you. For trusting me all those years ago.”
“And I’m the whiney drunk?” You pull back to look at him.
“I guess we both lost our drunk horniness.” He chuckles as you both lean back against the counter with your drinks.
You wait what you hope is an acceptable amount of time before you ask what you really want to know.
“Is he hot?”
“So fucking hot.” He high fives you.
“SHOTS. COME ON YOU TWO!”
“Do we have to?”
“He isn’t going to leave us alone if we don’t.” Jeonghan grumbles and drags you over to the party.
----------------
You’ve had far too much to drink. Everyone has had far too much to drink. Some idiot decided that playing spin the bottle was a great idea and when you, Jeonghan and Wonwoo said absolutely not, you’re not seventeen years old, you got forced into the circle anyway.
The bottle missed you every time thankfully but when it was your turn to spin the bottle of dread, it landed on the one person you didn’t want. Because of course it did.
The bottle landed on Wonwoo and even through your drunken haze you could see he wasn’t impressed. Handily. Right at the second you’d tried to make your way over to him, he got a phone call from the hospital he couldn’t miss.
Because what’s more embarrassing than playing spin the bottle at thirty years old? Playing spin the bottle at thirty years old and the recipient of your impending kiss literally running away from you.
The game finishes and you’re more than a little drunk and you’re more than a little pissed off.
You’re going to find that gorgeous ass hole of man and you’re going to defend your own honour.
You march around the apartment until you finally find him, trying to sort the trash out.
“Wonw-woo,” you stammer, swaying towards him.
“Hey! I wondered where you’d got to!” He smiles.
You want to punch him. How dare he smile at you like he smiled at that woman.
“I’m not the one who ran off!”
“What do you mmmpf,”
He doesn’t have a chance to answer you. You throw yourself at him, your lips smacking into his more like you’re attacking him than kissing him. If you were sober you’d see his wide eyes and arms flailing around so he doesn’t fall. But you don’t because you’re more interested in kissing him with so much force that his lips will be too sore to show that smile you love so much to anyone else other than you. Your hands hold his cheeks as you lose yourself for what feels like an hour but is probably more like a few seconds and then finally release him.
“What the…….”
“I’m gonna be sick,” You manage to get out before you run off to the bathroom.
So that’s how you find yourself here. The day after Mingyu’s thirtieth birthday party, on your daughter’s bed and avoiding the world outside of these four walls. You’ve no idea why you’d decided to spend the day in her room. You woke up, had a shower and then the flashbacks started and you felt yourself folding in on yourself. You weren’t just embarrassed, you were fucking mortified.
It’s probably because her room is literally like being in the clouds. You’d spent weeks painting clouds on the walls and ceiling when she was ready for her own room.
It was relaxing to some extent and it felt like she was near to you, cuddling by your side and telling you about her day. Instead of it just being you in your cave of embarrassment.
The door creaks open and all you can think is that you hope it’s not Wonwoo.
It’s obvious why he didn’t want to kiss anyone. It’s obvious why he pretended he had a phone call. Maybe not obvious to everyone who doesn’t know he’s seeing someone but you did. And in your stupid drunken state you kissed him anyway and you feel fucking terrible. You know he would never be the kind to cheat, he must be feeling fucking awful. He probably hates you and he’d have every reason to.
Such a stupid, selfish thing to do to a man who has only ever shown you and Areum kindness and warmth.
“Hey,” Jeonghan’s head pokes through the door with Mingyu’s head just above it, “can we come in?”
“Sure.” You keep staring at the ceiling with your head on your daughter’s pillow. “Do you have to do that!”
“What?! How else do you want me to lie down?” Mingyu glares down at you as he clambers over you so he’s between you and the wall.
Is nothing sacred? Now you’ve got Mingyu on one side and Jeonghan on the other, all three of you staring at the ceiling on Areum’s single bed.
“This bed isn’t built for three. You're barely on it."
“Well if you’d mope in your own room, we’d have more space wouldn’t we.” Jeonghan scolds you.
“What’s going on?" Mingyu asks softly.
“Nothing."
“_____, please. You've been weird for days. Please just talk to us." Jeonghan reaches for your hand, Mingyu taking your other.
“I'm," you sigh, “I'm scared."
“Of what?"
“Life?"
“Should I call the doctor or something?" Jeonghan rushes to sit up but you make him lie back down.
“It's not that." You think about how to phrase it. “You're all moving on."
“I've been dating for a month or so!"
“And Hyeji is already on a plane home! I actually think we work better in other countries."
“I don't mean like that. I just mean, you're all dating, you're open to dating. And I'm scared of the future. Last time I was on my own with Ari I couldn't be what she needed.”
"You're a great mom!” Mingyu interrupts.
"I am now,”
"You were then.” Jeonghan says bluntly, squeezing your hand.
"I'm just……I'm scared to be on my own when you've all moved on. I'm not saying you won't be there for her,"
“We'll be there for you too. And you can date! You can do whatever you want to!"
“I don't want to. Well I do……what I want isn’t important. I can't have what I want."
They both stay silent. They know what you want. They know who you want.
"I feel like life's moving on and leaving me behind and I don't want to be the reason you all hold yourselves back. I don't want to be the person I was when I left Areum at your door but I don't want you to not be able to move on because I left her at your door."
“Fuck that's a lot of feelings all at once _____." Mingyu mumbles.
“Do you want to know something?"
“Go on," you and Mingyu turn your heads to Jeonghan, him still looking at the ceiling.
“I worried you'd all move on without me. I was having all these feelings about who I was attracted to……"
“He's told me about his hot piece of ass," Mingyu whispers in your ear.
“And I didn't think I'd ever come to terms with being bi."
You squeeze his hand, knowing that's the first time he's probably said that out loud.
“But before that I'd already decided, you all wouldn't get rid of me."
“What do you mean?"
“My parents are building a new luxury complex. And the top floor has three apartments, even bigger than this one. We'll have one each." He says matter of factly.
“And you've just decided that?"
“I mean you can all do what you want but it's there."
“You planned it out? For us?"
“I like our little family. I think it's good for Areum."
“I couldn't face having to tell her that she couldn't see any of you anymore, she has three dads. She proudly tells people she has her daddy, her Wooowoo daddy and Gyugyu daddy. I couldn't bear her not seeing any of you, that's what I've been worrying about. That and how I’d cope."
“Wait, we're not moving yet are we?"
"They're still trying to get planning permits. It'll be a couple of years yet.”
"A couple of years of more of this sounds good.” Mingyu snuggles his head onto your shoulder and you do the same to Jeonghan.
A gentle silence falls, some of the worries eased about what would happen as you all kept growing. And knowing you'd be able to meet people or date or marry or just do whatever you wanted but still near each other, helps more than Jeonghan probably realises.
“Did something happen at the party?" Jeonghan asks softly.
“I think I upset Wonwoo. I think I made him do something that'll hurt someone."
“Who?"
“When I was at the hospital I saw him with the woman he's seeing. I don't know why he didn't just tell us he was seeing someone."
“He is? I don't think he….”
“Yeah. And I've done something that’ll hurt both of them."
"He'll understand, whatever it is.”
"I doubt it.”
"Go see him,” Jeonghan replies.
"He's not here is he?”
"Go see him at work. If it's making you feel this bad, go and say you're sorry. At least then when he gets home from work and Ari comes back from being with her grandparents, there'll be no awkwardness."
“When did you become so good with these things, Kim Mingyu?”
"I finally fucked my girlfriend in real life. It changes a man.”
"Oh my god is that what that noise was?! I thought there was a cat being strangled somewhere!”
You laugh but smack Jeonghan on the chest for being mean, though even Mingyu snorts. He was pretty fucking loud, taking full advantage of there being no Areum around.
"Jeonghan?”
"Yeah?”
"These apartments, do I……”
"Yes you have to pay rent Mingyu.”
The three of you giggle and keep staring at the painted clouds on the ceiling but you know what you've got to do. Just two more minutes of peaceful bliss and you'll do it. You'll man up and take responsibility for your actions.
If only it was as hard to find cardiology as it was to find the pharmacy. Once Mingyu and Jeonghan had told you it'd all be fine for the four thousandth time, you got in the car and seemed to arrive at the hospital way quicker than you thought was possible.
Will he be even more pissed at you because you're disturbing him at work? Will he have already told his girlfriend what happened? Fuck if she's also working today she'll probably have security throw you out of the hospital.
“Can I help you?"
“Oh!" You spin round to find a woman in scrubs sitting at a desk in the centre of the department.
“You look a little lost." She says kindly.
“I'm looking for Won…I-I mean Dr Jeon?"
“Are you a patient? I think he's in surgery at the moment. I could…..”
"_____?”
"Wonwoo?” You look up to find him walking out of some double doors that lead to the operating theatres, pulling his scrub cap off and looking confused.
Fuck. She's with him. She doesn't look pissed, so maybe he hasn't told her yet. Maybe you should? It might sound better coming from another woman? You could explain everything you're feeling and she might not be as pissed. But that's fucking selfish, to expect her to just understand that you've kissed her boyfriend.
“Is Ari ok? What's wrong?" He rushes over to you, all of his colleagues trying to not look interested in who this woman is that clearly knows the hot heart surgeon.
"She's fine. I just needed to talk to you,”
He gestures for you to move a little further away from where his colleagues have congregated.
"Why? What's wrong?"
What's wrong?! He can't be serious.
“Do you think she'd talk to me?"
“Who?"
“Your girlfriend," you mutter under your breath, looking over at the woman who doesn't seem bothered that you're talking to him.
So she must not know then.
"_____ what are you talking about?” He's looking more and more concerned, he must've been stressed all day about it.
"I know she'll have every right to hate me and I know you probably hate me. Fuck I shouldn't have done it, I'll tell her it was all me. I was just upset, I swear I never meant to cause any trouble,”
"What? Wait. Er Dr Kim,” he gets the attention of another doctor by the desk, "I just need to sort something out, could you do the post op checks and then we'll run through what you'll need to do tomorrow when I'm off.”
"No problem boss!”
"Come with me.” He mumbles, making you follow him down a corridor.
Surely he's not not going to tell her what happened. That's not Wonwoo.
He opens a door and gestures for you to walk into what appears to be an on call room and your stomach drops. This is where he tells you he hates you and he wants you to leave the apartment, he'll probably say you're a bad influence on Ari and you shouldn't be around her either.
"Right.” He closes the door. "What are you talking about?”
"I've been worrying all day and I swear I didn't mean to cause you any problems! I was just sad you obviously didn't want to kiss me during spin the bottle but my drunk brain didn't comprehend that of course you didn't want to kiss me. You've got a girlfriend that you're clearly more than happy with. And I suppose I should apologise for telling Mingyu and Jeonghan about her, you were obviously trying to keep it private but I saw you when I came for my appointment, I wasn't spying on you," you rush to say, “I just stopped for a drink when I was looking for the pharmacy and saw you. I left straight away, I promise."
“Why didn't you come over if you saw me while you were here?"
“You said you had plans, I didn't want to interrupt your date."
He blinks at you.
“Is this why you've been weird with me? Because of what you saw."
Curse him for being so clever. Though it doesn't take a doctor to figure out why you crashed out so much.
“Fuck I may as well just be honest." You sigh, “I saw you and it was like everything flashed before me, you all moving on now you're all seeing someone and me just stuck where I am now. Or worse back where I was before I moved in with you all. I got back in the car and downloaded that fucking app and ended up on a date with an absolute weirdo. I actually blame Jeonghan more than anything, he was going on about telling you and what would that have even achieved!"
“I thought you did tell me? You said you had an appointment and asked me for lunch,"
“R-right," you still need to cover up what Jeonghan actually meant, “exactly you said you were busy. You had a date."
“So why just be weird with me? You've been fine with Mingyu and Jeonghan."
You stare at him. How the hell do you get around that?
“Fuuuuckk," you groan with your head in your hands as you take a deep breath. “I like you. I've liked you since about six months after I moved in. I've sat in my bed and cried every time you've been on a date over the years. And last night I took it too far, I saw you clearly fake a call to get out of kissing me during that stupid fucking game and I saw red. I just wanted…. I don't even know what I wanted." You pause, “I wanted you. But you're not mine and now I owe you and her a massive apology. My head's been all over the place and that's no excuse and I've probably ruined your relationship and…."
“_____,"
“....you probably hate me and….”
"_____,”
".....you probably don't even want me near you, I'll move……”
"_____!!!”
You jump when he shouts at you.
“Take a deep breath. Please."
Why is he being nice to you? He should be telling you to fuck off. But you follow his breathing when he takes a deep breath and you feel a little less anxious.
“Thank you," you breathe again, “but you shouldn't be being nice, you should….."
“Will you please shut the fuck up!"
You slam your mouth shut, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"That woman,”
"I'll apologise to her! I promise!”
"_____.” He grabs your cheeks, "Please. Stop talking. Just shut. Up. And listen to me.”
You nod dumbly, his hands still on your cheeks.
"I don't have a girlfriend. And I haven't been on a date in fucking ages, in fact I think I've had five since you've been fully in our lives and they've all been shit.”
"Then who….."
“Shut up," he whispers, smirking at you like he knows it's physically hurting you to shut your damn mouth, “the woman you saw me with is a student who's been with us for two weeks to learn about a new technique we're trying out. What you saw was an interview for her research paper."
He must see the relief in your eyes because his smirk turns into a small smile.
“I wouldn't go on a date with anyone because I like someone else."
Well fuck. You're certain he must've been able to hear your heart break. Whoever works in the well hidden pharmacy probably heard it.
“Do you want me to tell you about her?"
No. You don't want to hear about her. Why would you want to hear about her?!
And besides. He's told you not to speak and so now he can deal with the consequences of those words.
"You can speak.” He rolls his eyes.
Oh fuck.
"I don't really want to hear it,”
"No?” He steps even closer to you, his hands still holding your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your skin a little.
You shake your head.
"I'll tell you anyway. She's a similar height to you." He smiles softly, “she actually has the same hair colour as you. And really similar eyes. She's funny and kind and so fucking hot."
You hate her.
“And she makes me excited to get out of bed each morning."
Fucking bitch.
“She’s the most talented artist I've ever met."
She's probably a sculptor. They're all hot. Fucking assholes.
"She’s actually really good friends with Mingyu. And she knows Jeonghan better than anyone. And she has the most beautiful daughter, who loves to read murder mysteries and does makeovers on me every Friday night. I'm still actually getting the glitter off me from the last one.”
Well if he wanted all that he could've just….wait. You frown at him.
“Are you saying?"
“I literally couldn't make it more obvious _____," he smiles at you, his thumbs still brushing your cheeks.
"So you're not in love with that woman?!”
"No, I'm in love with someone else.”
"Me?” You point at yourself.
"Yes _____, you.” He chuckles. "Surely Jeonghan and Mingyu told you that me dating someone would be bullshit? They've been telling me to tell you for months. If not years."
“They probably tried," you admit, you did think Mingyu wanted to say something when you were telling them.
"Why didn't you just tell me? Instead of downloading fucking tinder and making me want to strangle whoever you'd been on a date with.”
"Is that why you were in the kitchen?”
"I'd been there two hours.”
"That's a pretty big glass of water.”
"Hm,” he hums, pulling you against him, his arms around your waist, "almost as big as your glass of wine. I would’ve made a bigger deal out of you ignoring me but a massive part of me was just pleased it had clearly gone badly."
“Well thanks!" You scoff.
"You still should've told me.”
"I didn't want to ruin things when you said you didn't feel the same, I couldn't bear it if it affected your relationship with Ari or it ruined our little family. And,” you think about it, "you could've told me y’know!”
"I just have.”
"After several breakdowns on my part.”
"Well I didn't know why you were being weird!”
"At least Jeonghan isn't wasting his time with the apartment complex now I know you don't hate me. Wait.”
"What?” He mumbles, watching you thinking about something.
"He said there were three apartments.”
"Who did?”
"Jeonghan.”
"Can you rewind a bit. What apartments and what complex?”
"Jeonghan’s parents are building a new apartment complex. He said earlier when we were in bed,”
"When you were what?!”
"I was spiralling in Ari’s room and then they joined me and we just sort of lay there and figured life out.”
"I've always wondered what you three do when I'm at actual work.”
"Hey we work! Well. I do. Well I paint. And Mingyu does whatever he does. And I don't really know…..what would we class Jeonghan as? Our house husband?”
"I don't know,” he laughs, putting a stray piece of hair behind your ear and making you shiver a little. "Tell me about how you figured life out in the space of a day please.”
"Oh yeah. Well his parents are building a whole new luxury apartment complex and he's reserved the whole top floor for us. Obviously we'd pay rent,"
“I bet Mingyu was thrilled with that,"
“Oh he's probably still pouting," you dismiss, “but he said there's three apartments. And I didn't think anything of it when he said it but he knew? Not that I'm saying we’re going to live together…”
"We do live together,”
"Oh yeah,” you grin, "but yeah, so he said three. That man is so sneaky.”
“Wait so we're moving?"
“Oh they're not built yet, it'll be a couple of years.”
“I could do a couple more years of this," He holds you closer.
“That's what we said." You smile and finally wrap your arms around him too.
You gaze at him and it feels very like he's about to finally kiss you, his eyes keep flitting down to your lips but that reminds you of something.
“Hold on. If you like me,"
“Love you." He corrects.
“Love me,” you roll your eyes, "I love you too by the way. But if you love me, why did you run away and pretend to have a phone call during spin the bottle?”
"Because, and call me old fashioned, but I'd have quite liked the woman I've been in love with for years to be sober when we had our first kiss. And I didn't want it to be in front of a room full of drunk strangers.”
"Oh.” Your cheeks heat, "I ruined that then.”
"Not really. You just very aggressively kissed my chin last night.”
"Well you could've told me that! I've been worrying about being a homewrecker all day!”
"How could I tell you when I didn't know what you've been thinking!”
You narrow your eyes at him.
"Very clever Dr Jeon.”
"Don't do that.” He mutters.
"What?”
"Call me Dr Jeon."
“Don't people call you that all the time?"
“They do," he holds you a little closer again, “but it sounds different when you say it. Makes me feel like I've got all the power."
“Is that right?" You quirk your brow at him.
“Mm,"
His lips are so close you can feel his breath, fuck it's actually happening.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Fuck,” he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it, "I've got to go, the shifts ending and I need to do hand over. I'll be like twenty minutes? I'm off work tomorrow so I need to do handover to the night team and my team who’re in tomorrow.”
"It's fine,” you smile, but he's still holding you.
"Did you drive here?”
"Yeah,”
"I didn't. I got a cab. I know I only had two drinks but I didn't want to take the risk and it was so early when I left for work. Wait for me? And we’ll go home together?”
"Sounds good.”
"I really want to kiss you,” he glances at your lips again, "but if I start I won't want to stop.”
"Then go, the sooner you're done, the sooner we can go. It works quite well actually, I need to find the pharmacy.”
“Still?"
“Well I was trying to not cry when I left the other day."
"It's near the entrance.”
"What?! I walked around this damn hospital hundreds of times the other day!”
“They’re probably closed now," he checks his watch.
“How can a hospital pharmacy close? Do people not need things all the time?"
“They do," he strokes your cheek again, “but it's separate for inpatients. What is it you need?"
“Oh," you search your pockets, these are the same jeans from the other day you threw on, “a-ha! This," you hand it to him.
“Er," he checks the prescription, “I'll get one of the nurses to get it. He owes me a favour for covering for him doing something completely unsanitary in here last week."
You grimace at the dingy bed in the corner. The horrors that bed must've seen.
“I'll wait in the car then.” You kiss his cheek and try not to smile at how it flusters him.
"Ok.”
But he doesn't move, he just gazes at you, his fingers drawing patterns on your back.
“Go," you shew him off you, “go be an important doctor and I'll be waiting in the car."
“Promise?" He opens the door and you follow him out.
“I promise." You kiss his other cheek but this time he's ready for you and he kisses you back on your cheek straight away.
“Bye then," he whispers, kissing the other.
“Bye." You grin and turn to head out, turning left off the corridor.
“_____? Other way!"
He smiles as you reappear sheepishly.
“I'll be in the car,” you point and head in the right direction.
"I'll be as quick as I can!” He shouts after you and heads back to work.
You more or less skip to the car, a smile plastered on your face and your stomach full of butterflies.
You intend to do two things when you get home. One, kiss Wonwoo until your lips are chapped. And two, kill Mingyu and Jeonghan for clearly knowing a lot more than they were letting on.
"Where are you two going?”
"Hello!” Jeonghan replies looking like him and Mingyu have been caught doing something they absolutely shouldn’t be doing.
"Fancy seeing you here!"
“Mingyu. We live here. Where are you going?" You refuse to move out of the way of the elevator, Wonwoo looking pretty sheepish too at the side of you.
"We've decided we can't go on without seeing our daughter. So we're going to see her.”
"You're driving two hundred miles to the coast to see Areum when she'll be home tomorrow afternoon?”
"Y-yes.” They look at each other.
"You told me I was being ridiculous last night when I said we needed to keep checking on her.”
"Oh y’know, things change.” Jeonghan shrugs.
"Jeonghan.” You step closer to him, narrowing your eyes, "You're willingly travelling all that way, to arrive really late at night when Areum will already be asleep to spend a few hours with her and your parents and my parents,”
"Wonwoo’s are there too! Mine couldn't go because they……" Mingyu's words trail off when you all glare at him.
"What's the point?”
He glances at Wonwoo who's still looking more than a little awkward.
"Oh I can't lie to her Wonwoo, she knows all my tells,” he gives up. "He rang, told us to fuck off for the night.” He points at Wonwoo. "We're going to stay at my parents’ while they're not there.”
"When did you do that?” You frown at Wonwoo.
"As I was walking to your car. I just thought we needed some space before Ari comes back,”
"Space.” Mingyu snickers.
"Yes Mingyu space. It's been a bit of a mad day." Wonwoo's stern look stops Mingyu's smugness.
“We'll be going then," Jeonghan barges past you, dragging Mingyu along with him.
“Don't have too much fun." Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“Idiot." You say under your breath, you and Wonwoo looking at them in the elevator.
The doors start to close.
“_____!" Jeonghan says quickly before the door closes, “don't forget to use protection!" You hear them both fall about laughing as they disappear completely.
Silence. Clearly Wonwoo was hoping they'd already be gone before you got home.
“I'm sorry," he groans, scratching his neck, “I just thought we needed to talk or just spend some time together? Without having to be quiet or having those two just listening to everything we say."
“Wonwoo," you sigh, “I'm not annoyed or anything. It's just we've only just confessed and I don't want all our parents asking questions, because I know those two won't be able to keep their mouths shut, and confusing Ari."
“I've already told them all. Check the group chat. I'm sorry I couldn't keep it in, I've just waited so long and I thought it's one less thing for you to worry about."
Your eyebrows knit together as you pull your phone out.
Wonwoo: Just so we're all on the same page. Me and _____ are in a relationship. I'll be taking no questions and please don't tell Areum yet. Enjoy your break, see you when you're back.
Well. Putting that in the group chat you have with all your parents and Mingyu and Jeonghan is certainly one way to tell them all.
“Very efficient." You chuckle. “Wait. Your mom says it's about time? Mine says it's only taken us four years? Even Jeonghan's mom is saying she knew. My dad owes Mingyu's dad money, they had a bet?! They all knew?!"
“It appears the only two that didn't know, is us." He smiles.
"Typical.” You scoff.
"You're not annoyed with me for telling them to fuck off?”
"A whole night without the troublesome twosome? I'm ecstatic.”
“Did you eat yet?"
“No. But that's why you sent them away? To eat?" You smirk, stepping closer to him.
“Don't start something you can't finish _____."
“Who says I can't finish it?"
“You weren’t lying,” you smile as Wonwoo grabs your t-shirt and pulls your lips back to his.
The second you uttered those fated words near the elevator, his lips were on yours and you’d barely detached yourselves from each other to breathe let alone check where you were going. Your bedroom is on the third floor of the penthouse and you’re certain both of you will have shins covered in bruises from how many times you bumped into shit on your way up here. Yes, you could've just stopped kissing. But that’s not an option. Not now you know how fucking good he is at it.
“Wait what? You think I’m lying about loving you?”
“No,” you giggle, kissing his lips one more time, “I meant you weren’t lying about not being able to stop once you’ve started.”
He just rolls his eyes and drags you back to his perfect lips, backing you towards your bed but he bangs into your bedside table as he does it.
“For fucks sake!” he switches your lamp on, ready to give you a stern talking to for laughing at him but he spots something that causes him to do a double take.
“No!!” You launch forward but it’s too late, he’s already grabbed it.
“What’s this?” He murmurs, inspecting what’s in his hand.
“What does it look like?” You mumble, trying to grab it, “give it to me Wonwoo.”
“Do you always just leave your dildos about the place?”
“I don’t have dildos, I have a dildo.”
“So if I open this draw I won’t find like ten more sex toys?” he raises his brow at you.
“No,” you fold your arms, “I mean sure there’s a clit sucker thing but what do you want me to do?! It’s not illegal! It’s not……”
He fists your t-shirt and pulls you flush against him.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” He smirks as he grips your chin and moves your head to the side, “just thinking of all the things we could do. May as well make you well and truly mine whilst I can, once everyone is back it’ll be sneaking around and trying to be quiet. Something you’re famously not good at.” He hisses in your ear.
“Are you saying I talk too much?”
“Oh baby you never shut the fuck up.” He smiles wickedly. “I do have some ideas of how to make you shut up though. Would you be interested in hearing them?”
You clench your thighs together. You always got the feeling that he was like this in the bedroom. You’d never heard him, he’d never brought anyone home at all. But he’s just too sweet and caring in everyday life to not be a fucking freak in the bedroom.
“I might be.” You try to say like you’re not ready to let him do whatever the fuck he wants.
“Is this all ok?”
He makes sure you look at him properly, his kind eyes showing you he doesn’t want to do anything you’re not ready for or comfortable with.
“Yeah,” You smile, kissing him again, “I’ve thought about this for so long. Do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
You pause.
“No anal. At least not now.” You think about it for a minute, “Or slapping. And I haven’t got any condoms but I am on birth control so if you’re clean, I’m fine with going raw.”
“Really? I thought you…….”
“You thought I’d be scared of getting pregnant? I got pregnant because we were both fucking idiots. I’m not going to do that again. Not yet anyway.”
His face softens when he realises that you’re implying you want everything you can with him. Just not right now.
“I really do love you y’know.” He smiles, kissing your forehead. “But,” he stands back from you. “Kneel down.”
“What?”
“Did I stutter? Kneel down.”
“Should I?” You look down at your clothes.
“Keep them on, until I’ve moulded your throat to the shape of my dick at least.”
“Fuck.” You fall to your knees in wonder, Wonwoo trying not to smile at how quickly you’ve submitted to him.
He places the dildo down on the bed side table, the glint of something wicked in his eyes and slowly undresses in front of you.
Your eyes follow every moment, every inch of skin being uncovered that you've craved to touch for so long. He's big, he always has been but recently he seems to have grown even bigger, even stronger. You've always got the impression that if you were wrapped in his arms, nothing bad in the world or in your head could get you.
His boxers are the last to go and the second they're off his dick slaps against his abdomen.
Well it turns out all of him is big then. Fuck he's going to ruin you and you're going to enjoy every last second of it.
He crouches down, tucking his finger under your chin and makes you look at him.
“For someone who talks so much you've really hurt me these past few days _____. Ignoring me, making me feel like I've done something wrong," he sighs. “I think… I think I need some reassurance. That'll you treat me well, that you'll use your pretty little mouth properly in the future. Do you want to show me, baby? Show me just how well your mouth works?"
You frown in confusion before he reaches just a little behind where you're kneeling and brings the dildo back into view.
“Show me."
Jesus.
He's still crouching down to you, completely naked and dick rock hard whilst you're kneeling on the floor fully clothed and clearly nothing more than a source of entertainment to him.
He brings the silicone tip closer to you and every part of you melts for the man in front of you. Fully ready to give him whatever he wants.
Making sure you look him in the eye, yours burning into his, you let a little spit drip from your mouth. Just enough to wet the tip as it slowly falls from your mouth. His eyes falter a little like he didn't think you'd match his freak quite as much.
But that's where he's wrong.
You've spent night after night thinking of the most obscene fantasies your brain could conjure.
You let your tongue trace around where the hole would be, flicking it a little showing him exactly how good you'll be for him.
Your lips wrap around the tip, imagining it's his and your eyes finally leave his to look at his dick. Your eyebrows knit together, a look of concentration on your face as you focus on how he's already dribbling a little precum. You start to bob your head as he holds it for you, his eyes transfixed by the way you're sucking the dildo but clearly imagining it's him.
You hum around it, desperate to show him just how much you want him, weirdly even wanting to make him proud of the way you're performing for him.
“You're doing so well," he murmurs, his free hand coming to hold your cheek as you keep bobbing on the dildo.
He kneels on the floor in front of you but sitting up on his knees so he's taller than you, giving you an even better view of him and making you moan around the dildo.
“Awww baby, are you desperate?"
You nod as best you can, hoping this means he'll let you near him.
“Yeah?" His smile turns wicked, “prove it for me."
And he shoves the dildo further into your mouth making you gag on it. Fuck this is more than you could’ve imagined and he's not even touched you. You're not even undressed and you feel like he's wrecked you.
Wonwoo starts fucking the dildo in and out of your mouth, a smirk on his face as he watches you gag around it, the tears and drool only making the sight even prettier for him. And yet his thumb strokes your cheek like it did when he was telling you he loved you earlier, nothing but gentleness in the loving touch.
"Good girl _____, you're doing so well. You look so pretty like this, so needy for me,"
You move your head even quicker, desperately sucking the dildo, him meeting your movements and making your gag occasionally.
“I'm so sorry _____. If I'd have known you were up here, fucking yourself with this," he shoves it down your throat and your eyes roll back as you choke, "I'd have done something sooner, ruined you so much sooner."
His gentle voice mixed with him fucking your throat with the dildo has you in a space you've never been in before but fuck you love it.
It's when he spots you wiggling a little bit, desperately trying to relieve some of the tension between your legs, that he realises just how much he needs to feel you. You've put on a pretty little show for him but he’s dreamt about your lips wrapped around him for so long and you're clearly so ready for him.
His hand that was on your cheek moves to your hair. He isn't overly harsh with it, he doesn't want to hurt you, but he gets your hair in a half assed ponytail as he stands up. Wonwoo yanks you off the dildo, your lips swollen and chin wet and he was going to check in with you but you lunge forward and he doesn't stop you. He's not even sure if he could.
You don't even ease him into it, just adjust your mouth because he's bigger than your dildo and go to town. Your tongue runs flat along the bottom of him whilst you bob your head frantically, your hands on his thighs steadying you because of how desperately you're fucking your face onto his dick.
“Fucking hell," he throws his head back, “I told you to show me on your fucking dildo," he groans, his hips twitching when you swirl your tongue around his tip and go back to your bobbing, “you didn't show me shit. Fuck why are you so good at that?"
Oh he's not seen anything yet, of course you weren't going to really go to town on a fucking dildo.
You bob a little more, your cheeks hollowed and lips tight around him. Just a couple more bobs and then you fully take him in your mouth. Well your throat. And then swallow around him.
The whine Wonwoo lets out above you should've been recorded. Then you could listen to it on nights when he's at work and you need him. Because just that one whine could get you off again and again.
"Right. No. Get off,” he tries to move you back but you send a glare his way and flick his tip defiantly.
"_____,” he warns, "Get. Off.”
You roll your eyes and take his dick out of your mouth.
"What?!”
He pauses for a second, something clicking in his mind and he finally realises this is actually happening. You're actually kneeling in front of him, you drool on your t-shirt and cheeks damp from your tears.
“I'm not about to cum in your mouth for our first time having sex."
“Then cum wherever you want," you say like it's obvious, “but why have you stopped me? Come back here,” you try to crawl forward.
"No.” He crouches down in front of you again, a weirdly proud smile on his lips. "Get on the bed.”
You clamber up, not really caring how needy you look. You are needy for him. Just the same way he is for you.
“Wait," you huff as you flop down on your bed, leaning on your elbows as he watches you fondly, “should I take these off?" You gesture to your clothes.
“I'll do it," he shrugs, crawling up the bed to you, looking like an overly hot predator.
"Oh I could get used to this.” You lie back.
"Good.” He hovers over you, his thumb wiping your lip, "I'm gonna treat you so well _____. We've spent so long avoiding what was clearly so obvious, if you said you wanted the moon I'd try to find a way to get it for you.”
You smile up at him, the man who you're fairly certain is the love of your life and realise you've never been happier.
His lips linger on yours one last time before they move slowly down your neck, feather light kisses heating every patch of skin they touch.
One of his hands rests by your head, the other stroking your waist as his lips travel over your cloth covered breasts, mumbling into your t-shirt the occasional “so pretty" and “I'm so lucky."
His hand that was on your waist moves to shimmy under your t-shirt and he must feel you tense up.
You hadn't even been worrying about it. It simply never occurred to you. It didn't need to occur to you.
"What's wrong?” He asks straight away, a flash of worry on his handsome features, his hand paused.
"I haven't been,” you swallow, a whole new bunch of worries now fogging your brain, "I haven't been naked in front of anyone since I had Areum. I didn't even realise I was worried about it until you moved your hand.”
"No one?”
"Do you think I've been sneaking men up here?”
"No,” he smiles, "I just wasn't sure….."
"The last time was when I got pregnant with Areum."
“I swear it doesn't bother me," he rushes to say, “I know you and Jeonghan were nothing serious. I just wasn't sure." He shrugs, stroking your hair now he's moved his hand.
"I'm used to my body. And I don't hate my body. It just hit me that it looks different from the last time someone else saw me naked.”
"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met,” he smiles when you fluster a little, "but if you want to wait and stop, we can do.”
"I don't want to stop.” You say much too quickly and make him laugh.
"Then tell me how you want this to go baby.”
"I've told you, whatever you want.” You move his hair off his forehead, "I just got in my own head for a second. I'm good now.”
"You're sure?”
"So sure." You peck his lips.
He looks at you for a couple more seconds, just to double check and then goes back to his little kisses all over your breasts through your t-shirt. His hand moves slowly back under it so his finger tips can wander over your stomach and along your waist.
Wonwoo glances up at you one last time and then lifts your t-shirt. You sit up so he can take it off easier and before you can even lay back down properly he kisses you again so you don't have any chance to feel self conscious. His tongue is messy as it explores your mouth and your fingers bury in his hair to hold him closer to you, losing yourself in the taste of him.
His hand slips under your back, his tongue still dancing with yours, and unclasps your bra. Huh, turns out he is really good with his hands. Your bra is thrown on the floor with your t-shirt and his lips go travelling again.
You watch as his eyes take you in every time his lips travel lower down your body. Teasing kisses are dotted over your tits and on your nipples, making you squirm when you think he's going to take one into his mouth. But he doesn't, he just shows you with his lips how much he loves you.
He kisses down your stomach and stops when his lips meet your jeans.
“You're perfect _____." His eyes run all over your body, marvelling at you beneath him. “I'm so lucky."
He kneels between your legs and you prop yourself on your elbows.
“Can I?" He plays with the button on your jeans.
You don't answer with words, just lift your ass up so he can take them off.
“Fuck." He stares down when he's thrown your jeans on the floor and spots just how wrecked your panties are.
“What?"
“You're fucking dripping."
His fingers trace over your pantie clad pussy making you shiver. The touch is hardly there and yet drives you crazy.
“So wet," he says in wonder, “and it's all mine isn't it ____? It's all for me?" He pulls the drenched cloth away from your aching pussy with his finger and lets them snap back, the sting making you startle.
“Answer me _____," he presses two fingers onto your soaked mound and if you didn't have your underwear on, they'd be between your folds, exactly where you want them.
“All yours," you nod desperately, “it's just for you."
“Yeah?" He says darkly, “do you get this wet when you're up here using this?" He holds up the dildo.
Where the fuck had he hidden that?!
"I bet you're fucking dripping aren't you?” He presses the tip to you, "fucking yourself with this night after night. What do you think of, baby?”
The pressure of the tip is exactly on your clit, it would just take the tiniest movement and you'd get some sweet relief.
“Who," he presses a tiny bit harder, it doesn't hurt but fuck does it make you twitch from the added friction, “do you think of?"
“You." You whisper. “Always you. Only you."
“What a waste of fucking time." He turns the dildo so it presses harder onto your clit and you throw your head back in pleasure. “I could've been wrecking this pretty pussy every night."
“Wonwoo, please just do something!"
You're all for foreplay. You're all for teasing. But you've not had sex in five fucking years, surely he could show you some reprieve.
"What's the rush? We've got all night.” He muses as he runs the dildo along your soaked underwear.
"Wonwoo.” You give him a stern look, "I haven't had sex in fucking years. If you don't do something soon I might actually burst into tears. Just fuck me!” You whine.
"I have always dreamt of you crying my name.”
You look at him in horror. What a fucking tease.
"Give me my dildo.” You demand and hold your hand out.
"No.” He looks at your hand in disgust.
Right then. You're not above making him do something.
"What are you doing?” He mumbles as you flail around, him not moving from between your legs making it difficult as you wrestle your panties off.
"Look,” you lie back, two fingers running through your drenched folds, trying to not moan at the feeling, and hold them up to him, "do something. Or I'll finish myself off.”
He hasn't heard a single word you've just said to him. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw your pussy and he nearly fainted when you ran your fucking fingers through it. You're moaning at him because you've not had sex in five years. He hasn't had sex since you moved in here. You cannot just tempt him like that.
"Hey!” But he ignores you, grabs your hand and shoves your fingers in this mouth, licking and sucking your essence, his eyes closing in delight at the taste.
Something takes over him and before you know it your knees are bent and near your chest and he's holding your ankles, the perfect view of your pussy.
You expected a lot of things, maybe sloppy romance or tentative touches for your first time. You did not expect him to go with fucking mating press after him making you choke on your own dildo. Not that you're complaining. You once had a dream where you were literally sitting upside down in his lap whilst he ate you out. Luckily, dream you is clearly an acrobat.
"Is this what you wanted?” He glares at you.
"Yes,” you whisper, eyes on his dick.
"So selfish,” he mutters, "hold your legs.”
You do as he says straight away, your hands holding the backs of your thighs, your pussy dripping in front of him.
"Didn't even get a chance to play with it a little bit,”
"I'm not one of your computer games.” You glare between your legs.
"Shut up,” he flicks your clit, "now,” he lines himself up with you, "ready? You're sure about this?”
"So sure. Just do something Wonwoo.” You whine.
He holds one of your ankles, just his tip against your hole makes your breath hitch. He spares you one last glance and then his tip pushes in, stretching you open deliciously and making you both moan at the feeling.
He’s gentle, his hips rocking, gradually feeding you more and more of his dick and your walls feeling fuller than you probably ever have. The stretch burns just right and finally having him like this feels like you're exactly where you should be. It was always meant to be him, that's the reason it feels so fucking good already and he's not even fucking you yet.
"Shit.” He hisses when he's fully bottomed out, "you feel incredible baby. So perfect, fuck it's like you were made just for me.”
You don't answer, you're just basking in how fucking full you feel.
"Can I move?"
“Please," you manage to croak out.
Wonwoo puts his weight on you, allowing you to wrap your arms around his back instead of holding your legs and rests his hands either side of your head.
"I love you.”
"I love you t…..shit!"
He doesn’t even let you fucking finish saying it before he pulls out just to the tip and slams back into you, deeper than you're certain anyone has ever gotten and makes you throw your head back on the pillow in pleasure.
The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping and your drooling cunt being pounded by the man of your dreams. Your finger nails dimple his back with little crescent moons, not that he’ll need anything to remind him of tonight. This is everything he's been waiting for, it'll be etched onto his brain how fucking good it felt to finally feel you and be close to, until his dying breath.
You feel like you can't breathe. His weight is on top of you, you're more or less folded in half and he’s fucking you so hard it's a wonder you've not smacked your head on the headboard. But you wouldn't have it any other way because if anything, the lack of breath only adds to how insane you feel right now.
His dick is bullying its way into your warm willing walls, he's so deep you're certain he's crashing into your cervix and all you can do is hold onto him and enjoy the ride.
“You feel so good," he groans when he hits a squishy spot inside you that drives you both wild.
“You too," you whisper, trying to hold him even closer to you.
“You're a fucking goddess baby. And you're mine, all fucking mine,” He moans when you clench around his perfect dick.
"Y-you’re,” you try to get out but you're already so close to cumming, "m-mine too,”
“Yeah? Gonna cum around my dick baby? Let me feel how good I'm making you feel?"
“Hm-mm,"
He moves one of his hands from beside your head, his dick still slamming but when two fingers drift down to your clit and rubs tight little circles on your bundle of nerves, you completely lose it.
“Fuckfuckfuck," you cry, your hole clenching repeatedly around him.
Your whole pussy is quivering, his dick dragging against your walls deliciously and his magic fingers drawing perfect little patterns on your clit. What was it he said? I'm good with my hands? He really wasn't lying, his fingers somehow know exactly how to tease your clit just right.
Just one more thrust and you cry out, your whole body vibrating beneath him and hole contracting around his dick again and again. You're not sure you've ever cum so hard in your life. The weight of Wonwoo on top of you and the way he looks like he's completely lost in the feeling of you cumming for him only drives you on even more. You can’t move but you don't need to, Wonwoo doesn't stop fucking you, making sure you ride your orgasm out for as long as possible, revelling in the way you feel around him.
“Wonwoo," you shakily breath out, “cum. Please cum inside me, fill me up, I," you sigh, still shaking from the end of your orgasm, “wanna feel you cum in me."
He lets out a deep, guttural growl, your words being the tipping point for him as his body stills on top of you for a second before he keeps fucking into you. Fucking his cum into you.
"Fuck I love you _____,” his hips keep sloppily fucking into you and he moans when you clench a little, "I love you so fucking much.”
"I love you too,” you say softly, your hands gliding up his back to hold him close to you so you can whisper in his ear, "so, so much Wonwoo.”
His hips gradually slow, your fingers deciding to draw patterns along his sweaty, marked back, hoping to soothe his heavy breathing and hold him as close to you as possible.
Wonwoo raises his head to look at you, his cheeks flushed and pupils blown out, but he looks at you with so much fondness and so much love you feel like doing a little happy cry.
“Are you ok?" He asks quietly, helping you move your legs and smiling as your waggle your feet now they're free.
“I am," you hold his cheeks, “I love you."
The kiss on his lips is sweet and filled with promise.
“I love you too. Can I," he moves back, taking his softening dick out of you.
His eyes widen as he sits back, watching his cum drip out of you.
“Fuck," he whispers in awe as his fingers move to pick up a little bit of it and stuff it back in.
“Don't giggle," you chastise him when he chuckles a little at your thighs twitching, “I'm sensitive."
“I fucked you that well?" He asks, keeping his eyes on your cum filled hole as he moves to lie next to you.
“I don't think I've ever felt like that…..don't look so smug!" You tap his chest when he looks more than pleased with himself.
“What?!" He pulls you into his chest, your leg hooking over his hip, “not everyday you hear that from the woman you love."
“That makes me feel all tingly," you murmur into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you.
“What does? That I luuurve you," he squeezes you and then squeezes you again just to hear the laugh he loves so much.
"Yes.” You giggle.
He holds you, kissing your head occasionally, both of you basking in the afterglow of what's just gone down.
“_____?"
“Hmm?"
“Just so you know. I'm all in. I want whatever you want, I just want to be with you."
“Me too."
You think for a minute, wondering how to bring up the last thing that's been worrying you. You only thought about it on the drive home but now all your horniness has been satiated, you need to ask him.
“This doesn't change anything does it? I mean with Ari and the guys? Like you're all still…..I don't know how to put it. Equal? Like you don't think you trump Mingyu because…..”
"Never.” He cuts you off, "what we have works. She's our daughter, she always will be. I don't feel any different in terms of our family _____. The only thing that changes is my relationship with you. They're my best friends, we all love her the same and you're my girlfriend.”
"I just wanted to check,” you kiss his chest and he holds you a little closer.
"I'm a bit worried about whether she'll think differently of me.” He murmurs.
“Ari?" You prop yourself on your elbow.
“Hm," he nods, “what if when we finally tell her, she decides she doesn't want me near you? She doesn't want her mommy to have a boyfriend or for that boyfriend to be me."
“Are you joking?"
“No! Like what if she hates me for holding your hand or something. That little girl dotes on you, she's never seen you with a man. What if she decides to wage war on me!"
"You're talking about the same little girl that pretended to operate on her dolls with you when she was three because she said she wants to be a doctor like her daddy woowoo…”
"But…"
“The same little girl who doesn't let anyone do her hair other than you. I did it the other day when I was upset with you and she spent the entire drive home after school telling me how she felt like her hair was falling out all day because you hadn't done it."
“That's not the…."
“The same little girl," you sit up and cross your legs, him following and holding your hands, “who has spent her whole life being treated like a princess by three of the best men this world has to offer. She could never hate any of you. And we don't need to tell her quickly, we can take our time. Figure out how we work before we do anything else."
“So you don't think she'll stop reading with me on Sundays?"
“I think the only time she'll do that is when you both finally run out of books. She loves you Wonwoo," you stroke his cheek, “so do the guys. But none of them love you as much as me.” You smile proudly, kissing him softly.
"It's gonna feel like we're teenagers sneaking around,” he pulls you to sit between his legs with his back against the headboard.
"Yeah and there's spies on both floors. Areum's up here and the guys are near you downstairs.”
"Guess we'll have to get really good at shower sex,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin.
"Or maybe,” you look back at him, "car sex.”
"Absolutely not. Mingyu told me a horror story about a handbrake and rectal bleeding once. That's not happening.”
"He disgusts me sometimes.”
"Can I stay in here tonight?” He whispers in your ear before kissing just beneath it.
"Oh now I've got you, I'm not letting you go.”
“OH LOOK JEONGHAN WE ARE HOME,"
“YES, IT IS NICE TO BE HOME."
They have to be the most ridiculous pair of people you've ever met in your life.
“WE ARE WALKING INTO THE APARTMENT NOW."
“IF THERE WAS SOMETHING WE SHOULDN'T BE SEEING I HOPE IT IS FINISHED NOW."
“What the fuck are you two doing?" Wonwoo asks as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, glancing at you on the sofa.
"Oh.” They both come to a stop. "We thought you'd be doing something disgusting.”
"No, we've decided to just be friends.”
"WHAT?!”
You fall back on the sofa laughing, Wonwoo watching you happily.
"I hope she's joking.” Mingyu points at you.
"She definitely wasn't calling me her friend half an hour ago.”
"Wonwoo!” You scold, sitting up again.
"Oh my ears!” Jeonghan walks to the kitchen, covering his ears.
“When’s Areum back?" Mingyu throws himself on the sofa next to you before Wonwoo can sit down, sending him a middle finger.
“In about twenty minutes. Hey Jeonghan," you holler back to the kitchen, “did you have anything planned for dinner? Because your mom promised Ari pizza if she got dressed when they told her to."
“Bribing kids," Mingyu shakes his head in disgust.
“Yeah because pretending to cry to get them to do what you want is so much better. Move.” Wonwoo stands in front of you and Mingyu.
You glance at Mingyu and then turn back to Wonwoo, pretending to not know what's annoying him.
"Me?” Mingyu points to himself, pretending to be a little shocked.
"Obviously.”
"Why? Do you want to sit with your girlfriend?”
"I'll sit on you.”
"Is that a promise?” He smirks at Wonwoo.
You stand up, shove Wonwoo down onto the sofa and then throw yourself on his lap. Sure he groans at the shock but you'll be damned if Mingyu upsets your boyfriend.
"Oh for god's sake. There's two other sofas!”
"Then go sit on one,” you flick Mingyu’s forehead as Wonwoo's arms wrap around you.
"Wait, hold on!” Jeonghan rushes over to you all and sits on Mingyu.
"Dude there's other places to sit.”
"We need a family meeting.”
"The head of the family isn't here.” You point out.
This must look ridiculous, you and Jeonghan sitting on Wonwoo and Mingyu's laps facing each other.
"She's right.” Mingyu picks a rogue thread off Jeonghan's top.
"I think we need to get this sorted before she's home.”
Your stomach drops a bit and Wonwoo takes his arms from around you, settling on a gentle hand on the small of your back.
"Jeonghan…" you try to start but he holds a hand up to stop you.
“When you trusted us with Areum, we all took care of her. You two," he glances at Mingyu and Wonwoo, “didn't hesitate to help me. To help _____. I know we've asked you a few times over the years whether you still wanted to be in this and you've always shot us down saying it was what you wanted. But I just want you to know, that it meant a lot. It means a lot. You care for Areum like she's your own, she's surrounded by love and not just because of me and _____ but because of you two, even your parents treat her like a family member."
You all stare at him, the fact he's sitting on Mingyu’s lap not even looking entertaining anymore.
“Our stupidity brought Areum into this world." He smiles a little at you. “But I'm so pleased we were stupid back then. She is the most precious thing to me and I thank the universe everyday that you trusted me enough that day when you needed help. You're the best mom in the world _____,”
You sniffle, Wonwoo rubbing the small of your back.
"And I know you. It probably won't be better than anyone soon,” he smiles down at Wonwoo, "but I know you and know you'll be worrying somewhere in there,” he taps the side of your head with his finger and makes you laugh, "that I'll see you differently or I'll be annoyed or angry or something but I want you both to know, I have been waiting for you both to realise you loved each other. And I still feel the same as I did before yesterday. I love that you're part of Ari’s life Wonwoo, I love that there's little quirks in her personality that come from you. That come from all four of us. She's a little mini version of all of us and I love that. It may not be normal to everyone but it's normal to us. So. You didn't need my blessing or anything. But just know that I love you both and I know me and Mingyu will joke around about it but don't feel the need to not be yourselves. Because I can't wait to see what you become."
“Jeonghan," you sniffle and pull him into a hug, Wonwoo and Mingyu trying to steady you both what with you both still being on their laps.
“I would threaten you and tell you not to hurt her," he wipes a tear from his cheek when he pulls back, “but I know you won't."
“I won’t," Wonwoo says softly, his arms finally wrapping around you again.
“We er," you wipe your eyes, “we said last night that we'd wait a while to tell Areum. Figure how we’re us before we do it."
“Right. Enough emotions," Jeonghan slaps his legs and stands up, “the boss’ll be back soon. Mingyu you said you needed to edit something. If you do it now then we can all eat the pizza together."
“Oh right yeah," he rushes to stand up. “I'm pleased for you," he ruffles Wonwoo’s hair and kisses the side of your head before he jogs up the stairs.
“I've got really great sister husbands." Wonwoo beams at you as you laugh at him.
“Would it not be brother husbands?" You ponder, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Whatever it is, they're really great."
“So great." You smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Happy?"
“More than I've ever been."
"MOOOOMMMMMY I’M HOOOME!”
"Shit!” Wonwoo basically throws you off him before Areum and three sets of grandparents appear in the living room.
“I've been reading a new book."
“Don't eat with your mouth full of food," Mingyu says and Ari very dramatically stops talking to finish what she's eating, all four of you waiting to hear what she's going to say.
If this is another Agatha Christie then you're going to really need a stern word with Wonwoo. You're all for them reading together. She won't even need to learn to read at school because Wonwoo’s been reading her full novels since she was a baby. She just sort of knew how to read and started reading full on tomes. But she's going to be reading Great Expectations before she's even in double digits, you're going to run out of books at this rate.
“Finished.” She shows Mingyu her mouth and he recoils in disgust.
"What's your book honey?”
"Cinderalla,”
"An age appropriate book?” You mumble, smiling sarcastically at Wonwoo’s glare he sends your way.
"Did you like it?”
"It’s a bit boring. I don't know why she needed a prince, she could've just locked her step mommy away and stolen all the jewellery.”
The three of you turn to Wonwoo.
"What?” He says defensively, taking a bite of his pizza. "That's not an Agatha Christie.”
"It is,” Areum corrects him happily. “And Gyugyu said you shouldn't talk with your mouth full of food."
He stops chewing for a second in shock, the three of you trying not to laugh at him being told off by a four year old.
"What about Cinderalla Ari?” Wonwoo ignores all your very pointed looks.
"Well the prince,” she wriggles in her seat to get comfy and tell you all about her book, "is really nice to Cinderella even though she looks a bit boring at the start he does all of these nice things for her like finds her shoe and then she's really happy and he keeps being nice to her and then they live happily ever after.”
“Did you enjoy it then?" Hoping this new found interest in fairy tales might draw her away from Poirot.
“Not really. But I was thinking."
Oh god.
“What about honeybun?" Jeonghan asks, giving her another slice of pizza.
“Well Woowoo does really nice things for mommy and he's always finding things she's lost and even when she looks like a scarecrow when she's just woken up and he's grumpy because he's woken up late he still smiles when he sees mommy and you and Gyugyu don't do that and so I think Woowoo probably makes mommy as happy as the prince because he does nice things for her and makes her happy and I think" she takes a deep breath from her rambling, “that they will live happily ever after."
All four of you gawk at her, not that she cares, she's too busy taking the pepperoni off Mingyu's pizza and adding it to hers.
“Ari," Jeonghan says softly, deciding to ask this himself because he can see you and Wonwoo are a bit shocked, “would you be ok with that though? If they lived happily ever after like the prince and Cinderella?"
“Mmmmmmmm," she taps her chin, thinking and leaving a greasy finger mark from the pizza, “I think so. Mommy smiles a lot when Woowoo is here." She whispers to Jeonghan like she's telling him her darkest secrets. "And I like it best when mommy smiles because she's my best friend.”
Fuck a duck.
"Why are you crying mommy? Did Gyugyu do something?” She frowns very seriously at Mingyu, her little arms folded.
"No honey,” you wipe your eyes, "and I'm not sad. I'm just very proud of you.”
"Because I read Cinderella?”
"Well yes, but more because you're you.”
"Who else would I be?” Her brows knit together as she picks her pizza up.
"No-one honey,” you chuckle, the other three joining in with you as you watch her tuck into her pizza with much too much pepperoni, not caring that she's just taken a massive weight of all your minds.
"Turns out it was just you two that didn't know.” Mingyu mutters, but soon stops looking so smug when you kick him in the leg.
"God I wish they wouldn't just roam around,” Wonwoo dodges a six year old dressed as a sheep.
"I don't see why they need to do this at all. Why not just put on a normal talent show?” Jeonghan glares at some glitter that's landed on his new jacket.
"Because it's Christmas.” You say through gritted teeth, pulling Wonwoo out of the line of fire of a three foot candy cane who was running past, “and so everyone needed to dress for the festive season."
“What’s festive about a sheep?" Wonwoo demands.
“I don't fucking know." You grumble.
“_____!"
No. No no no. You cannot deal with the mothers of the parent teacher association.
“Hi!" You turn around to them, your biggest and yet fakest smile plastered on your face.
“I see you've all come," the three women nod at the men flanking you.
“We wouldn't miss it," Mingyu beams proudly.
“We just wanted to ask, we're putting on a dance for valentine's day."
“Isn't that months away?" Wonwoo asks.
“Which one are you?" One of them asks condescendingly.
“Jeon Wonwoo, senior cardiothoracic surgeon at Asan Medical Centre," he holds his hand out and you try not to smile.
“O-oh," they all look a little taken aback as they shake his hand. Clearly they weren't banking on that. You swear they think you're in a quadruple or whatever it would be. It really isn't that hard to grasp that four people can bring up a child and it doesn't mean they're in a cult or a weird joint marriage.
“Mommy," Areum rushes up to you, “I've forgotten my tinsel crown."
“I've got a spare!" Mingyu pulls some tinsel out from his pocket.
“Thank you Gyugyu!" And she runs off again.
“We just wanted to know if you remembered the bake stall for after the talent show,"
You hate how they look at you. They think because your home set up isn't normal that it must mean you're all idiots that don't know what day of the week it is, let alone able to function like a regular family.
“I've made brownies, cupcakes and a pretty impressive bunt cake, if I do say so myself," Jeonghan cockily high fives Mingyu.
“Oh. I see."
Fuck do you feel smug.
"And we needed a donation for the……..”
"I made a sizeable donation on behalf of all of us two days ago. The principal actually called me herself saying how grateful she was.” You say in a sickly sweet voice.
"Really?” They all falter, looking between each other.
"Moooommmmy,” Areum comes rushing over again, "sorry I just need to speak to my mommy.” She says to wicked witches of the pta, "Mommy. Could you please remind Woowoo that he said we were going to the bookstore on the way home, I'm not talking to him because he ate my last chocolate Santa."
“I'll tell him." You nod very seriously.
“Bye!" She waves at the pta mothers and runs off again.
“I wish mine would read willingly," one of the kinder of the mothers mumbles, much to disgust of her friends.
“You were saying something about valentine's day?"
“What?"
“Isn't that why you came over? I presume you had a reason and it wasn't just because you like to belittle my girlfriend."
Ooooooh, now he's done it. All three of them bristle at Wonwoo’s comment but you can tell they're still trying to keep that fake polite exterior. You're going to give him such good head when you get home.
“Not at all, well all love seeing you all!"
Just as they finish that lie, a loud crash rings around the room and a teacher starts shouting at two boys.
“Oh," Mingyu frowns, “isn't that two of yours?" He points at two of the pta women.
“It's not Areum is it?" Jeonghan asks knowing full well it isn't.
“No, she's sitting with her friend over there, helping her plait her hair.” Wonwoo points out.
Satisfaction. In it's purest form, seeing your perfectly behaved, if not overly opinionated daughter, showing just how well she's been brought up by her "not normal” family. And then their son’s acting like little shits and being given detention at six years old. Perfection.
"Valentine's day?” You ask again.
"Oh right,” they drag their eyes away from the chaos, a look a evil on their faces again, “We wondered if we should have a daddy/ daughter dance or if it would upset Areum.”
"Why would it upset Areum?” You demand before the other three can ask anything.
"Well,” the leader smirks, "we wouldn't want to cause trouble.”
These fucking people. What gives them the right?
"Areum has three dads who love her. Who are here, unlike your children’s fathers. You might not get our family but you are no better than us because your children have just a mother and a father. Families come in all shapes and sizes and she’s loved and cared for and that's all that matters. If you don't like that, then I feel sorry for you. But do not go out of your way to insult the three men that have helped make that girl what she is today."
They stare at you before scuttling off back under whatever hole they wriggled out of.
"That,” Wonwoo pulls you to him, "was fucking hot.” He whispers in your ear.
"I feel like a princess when a knight defends her honour,” Mingyu smiles.
"Hey _____,” someone grabs your arm, "I couldn't have put it better myself, they did the same to me and my wife. Well done.” One of the mother’s from Ari’s class says proudly before she needs to rush off to find their daughter.
“Seats please!" Someone shouts and cuts off any proud gloating you were about the embark on.
“We should've bought a hip flask," Jeonghan complains, leading the way.
“Is that a goat? What does a goat have to do with Christmas?" Wonwoo complains, glaring at the other children as you drag him to his seat, Mingyu following behind you both.
"Maybe it's the goat of Christmas past.” You and Wonwoo stop and turn to Mingyu, a look of disgust on your faces.
"What?! That was a good one!”
"Come on, I don't want to miss Ari,” you sigh.
You take your seats, Mingyu next to an old lady who flusters when he says hello to her, Jeonghan next to him and you inbetween Jeonghan and Wonwoo. All of you waiting for the torture that's to come.
Children come and go, singing (or trying to), dancing (and falling), one even did a performance of her impersonating her fish. Five minutes of her just opening and closing her mouth dressed like what seemed to be a trout before someone finally put her, and Wonwoo, out of their misery.
But finally it's Areum's turn. She's performing Jingle Bells with her friend, dressed entirely in tinsel for reasons only known to them, and they even have little sets of bells to accompany their singing.
The old lady on the piano starts and they start singing. No nerves, no tantrums, just a happy little girl singing the song her and friend had learnt two weeks ago in your kitchen when Jeonghan said he'd help them.
For all of Wonwoo’s complaining about the calibre of performances and declaring that most of the children should be in a zoo, you watch him watching Areum and her friend with nothing but pride in his eyes. They're horrendously out of tune and the bells are definitely not in time with the piano or the singing. But to Wonwoo? He'd probably declare it a Grammy worthy performance.
Their song ends and people politely clap them like they do for every perfomance but this round of applause is a little different. Because this time three men stand and give a standing ovation to the two little girls on the stage, hooting and hollering making sure that both girls know how well they've performed.
It's as you join them, sour faced parents around you who glare out of the corner of their eyes, and cheer your little girl, that you realise just how lucky you both are that you realised how bad things were that day when baby Areum wouldn't stop crying.
Things got better. Things got a whole lot better. And it isn't just down to Mingyu, Wonwoo and Jeonghan. It's down to the fact that you knew you had people to help you. That even when you felt alone in the world, you still deep down knew that you weren't.
As the cheering ends and you sit back down, Wonwoo turns to you, his hand taking yours.
🐈⬛ wonwoo x f!reader
🐈⬛ 1k
🐈⬛ fluff!!
🐈⬛ cat hybrid wonu!! and gamer wonu. and pets and cuddles. and pet names for wonu (kitty/kitten). established relationship. just cute fluffy kitty wonu. :]
🐈⬛ happy birthday, wonu!! heheheee thanks to @bubbliegubs for beta'ing for me :] also, disclaimer; i didn't edit the ears onto the photos lol i just found them on pinterest like that. cutie kitten gamer <3
Wonwoo has a habit of staying up late to play his games. Sometimes you need to show him what he's missing out on.
🐈⬛
“Wonu?” you called, blinking the sleep from your eyes. The glow of his computer screen filled the dark room, uncanny and wrong for how late it was. “Wonu, are you still playing?”
His silhouette nudged one headphone off his furry ear. “I just need to beat this boss. I’ll be done soon. Go back to sleep.”
But you sat up, pushing the blankets down around your waist. “You said you’d be done soon, like, hours ago. It’s…” You squinted at the LED clock next to the bed and nearly gagged. “Wonwoo! It’s almost four!”
That got him to look away from the computer, albeit only for a moment as the very distant sounds of digital warfare echoed from his headphones. “I’ll be done soon,” he said again, fingers flying over the keyboard. “For real this time. Oh, wait, no – !”
He groaned as the ‘restart’ screen flashed at him. Then two clicks later, it was gone, and he was tapping away again, racing his little character across the map. You frowned.
“Wonwoo.”
“Soon, I swear, just go back to bed,” he said, eyes glued to the screen.
You narrowed your eyes.
Shoving the covers away, you swung your legs off the edge of the bed, walking over to Wonwoo’s desk. He didn’t look up. His tail brushed the floor, fluffier than normal, twitching once as you approached. He was hunched forward more than usual, betraying his frustration and exhaustion, however much he might try to deny it.
“Wonu,” you said softly, gently cupping his shoulders, and he jumped, clearly not having noticed you approaching. Cute. But his eyes still stayed on the dang screen. You slid your hands along the line of his shoulders and gently massaged the base of his neck, then curled your fingers up towards the backs of his ears, fingertips scratching gently at his scalp.
“Stop,” he grunted, tail flicking against your bare feet. He still tapped away at his keyboard, although a little slower than before, you thought. “I’m almost there.”
“The game can wait for the morning, Wonu.”
“No –”
You slipped one hand along his jaw to cup his chin from behind, thumb gently rubbing at his cheek, and he faltered. His hands stopped moving. Then an explosion nearly took out his character, and he scrambled to move, shaking his head in your palm.
“Stop,” he said again, but this time it was more pleading. Almost petulant. “Just let me win.”
“Come to bed with me and win in the morning,” you coaxed, slipping around to the side of his chair and nudging just barely between it and the desk. Wonwoo’s eyes, pupils round and wide, flicked to you for just a moment before locking back on his game. “Nonu, baby.” Gently you reached up and eased his headphones down around his neck. He started to protest, but you scratched behind his ears, and they stood up immediately.
“Come cuddle with me?” you asked, pouting just a little as you squished his cheeks, and he blinked. One eye opened before the other, but both eyelids drooped over his suddenly sleepy irises.
“Mmmkay,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your palms, and you smiled, bending to drop a little kiss on his head.
“Alright. Let’s get you ready for bed, and then we can cuddle, okay?”
His ears twitched at that, and you giggled.
“That sound good? Yeah?” you said as he nodded slowly. You patted his cheek and stepped aside, gesturing to his computer. “Alright, power down, okay? I’ll grab your pjs.”
“Okay,” he murmured, and you kissed the top of his head one more time.
It didn’t take very long to get Wonwoo ready for bed – he was sleepy, the late night catching up to him, and let you do his skincare routine for him with only a little whine of protest. The way he pressed into your hands as you rubbed the moisturizer in had your heart almost screaming in adoration.
By the time you finally crawled into bed, Wonwoo was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He yawned wide as you pulled the covers up, tongue poking out over his bottom teeth, and you cooed, ruffling the hair between his ears. He blinked, staring at you as if through a haze.
“Sleepy time,” you told him with a tap on the nose. “C’mere, you big kitten.”
You opened your arms, and he nuzzled right in, curling up against your chest with his knees pressing into your stomach and his face tucked into the crook of your neck. You hugged him even closer. A little uncomfortable, maybe, but he’d spread out overnight anyway, splaying his limbs across you like he always did.
“Night,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and drowsy. You smiled against his hair.
“Night, kitty,” you echoed with a gentle stroke of his hair. “Sleep well.”
“Mmn.”
You closed your eyes, but after a quiet moment, Wonwoo started to squirm. Glancing down, you frowned, finding his droopy eyes on yours.
He craned his neck up and captured your lips in a kiss.
Oh. You smiled against him, kissing back gently. The taste of minty toothpaste still lingered, usually unpleasant but more than okay right now. Wonwoo was as soft and warm as ever, the picture of perfection with his tail curling against your thigh and his hands pawing gently at your shirt.
He broke away only to yawn again, and you giggled.
“Alright, kitty. Bedtime for real now.”
“Bedtime,” he agreed as he nuzzled back into your neck. You rested your chin on the top of his head, smiling to yourself as you closed your eyes and petted absently at the back of his head.
Wonwoo’s soft breathing settled beside you, slowly evening out. He really was cute like this, all cuddled up against you, nudging against your ribs and –
He moved suddenly, rolling onto his back, and you loosened your grip to let him flop against the mattress. His hands splayed up against the pillows, and his legs stretched beneath the covers, pulling them down and presenting the sweetest little peek of his tummy under the hem of his shirt.
Oh.
A smile crept over your face as you reached out and rubbed gently at his stomach.
Wonwoo purred.
You turned to bury your smile in the pillow, and petted his soft belly until you were both fast asleep.
after going on a blind date with false pretenses with the ceo of your company, things take a turn when he asks you to marry him to keep himself from ending up in an arranged marriage.
⟢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, smut, fake dating, angst
⟢ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): business proposal, nonidol
⟢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 13.7k
⟢ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, lying, drinking, lots of office gossip, Cheol has daddy issues, people think mc is a gold digger, insecurities and body issues.
⟢ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, they both are needy, lots of making out, big dick Seungcheol, oral (fem rec), size kink, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, fingering, hair pulling body worship, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, Seungcheol talks mc through it. nicknames: darling, baby, good girl (hers) baby, cheol (his)
⟢ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ minors do not interact
⟢ 𝐚𝐧: This fic is for the SVTFLIX collab hosted by @100vern . It’s loosely based on the k-drama business proposal. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this story and thank you @jakedustry for beta reading.
🎧: snooze | sza | lightening - charli xcx | into you - ariana grande | bmf - sza
Choi Seungcheol prodigal son in the heir to the Choi Corporation. Being the only child of an extremely wealthy and successful businessman has left Seungcheol with immense pressure. His whole life has been laid out for him. The moment he graduated high school, he was sent to a prestige college with the intention of immediately stepping into the family business. The day after graduation, he started working for his family’s company and never looked back.
One thing about being the heir to the company is that his parents are obsessed with the idea of him settling down and giving them at least one grandchild. Seungcheol is so wrapped up in work, he can't even imagine dating. Let alone getting married and staring a family.
These days his weeks consist of going on dates with socialites and heiress that his mother believes would make a great wife.
Tonight is no different. He finds himself in an expensive restaurant with a pretty woman sitting across from him. Except this time, the woman across from him isn't someone who comes from a rich family, it's you. You don't come from money, nor do you have much to be honest. You work for Seungcheol's company as Jeonghan's assistant. The funny things is Seungcheol knows your name, and definitely knows you're not Angel, the girl he's supposed to be on a date with.
THE PRINCE AND THE LIAR
You've been friends with Angel since you were teenagers. Growing up, your family made enough to be considered middle class. As a teen you were so smart you were able to get a full ride scholarship to a fancy private school. While in school, you became best friends with Angel, the heirest to a luxary cosmetics company. Angel has always been an incredible friend to you. She's always been someone who pushes you to get out of your comfort zone and to try new things.
You were surprised when you were hanging out in her fancy high rise apartment and she mentioned going on a date with the CEO of Choi Corporation. You weren't sure why her mother and his mother were trying to set her up with your boss.
"You're going on a date with my boss?" You ask, sitting on the plush chair that sits in the middle of her large closet.
"I don't want to go on a date with your hot boss. I was planning to go out with Soonyoung tonight."
"Your mom still doesn't know about Soonyoung?" Even if Angel doesn't want to admit it, her and Soonyoung have something going on that's more then just sex. Soonyoung works at a dance studio, and doesn't live up to Angel's mother's high expectations.
"Why don't you cancel on Seungcheol?"
"My mother would kill me if I did."
"I see."
Angel holds us a beautiful pink silk dress. She keeps glancing at the dress, and back at you. "This would look good on you."
"Yeah it's also not in my tax bracket." You've been shopping with Angel enough to know you couldn't afford anything in this closet.
"I have an idea!" She shouts.
"What?"
Her eyes go wide, and she gives you the biggest smile. "You're going to go on the date with Seungcheol." That's not what you thought she was going to say.
"What?"
"He's expecting you."
"He's never met me and doesn't know how I look. Just pretend to be me."
"I work for him."
"Like you said before. He doesn't know you exist. You work on a different floor for Jeonghan."
"Angel, this isn't a good idea."
"Come on, it's one blind date. You don't have to go on another one. Just go out with him once and pretend to be me."
"Angel—"
"Babe, just put the pretty pink dress on and go."
-
The moment you sat down, Seungcheol recognized you. He knew immediately you weren't Angel. He's well aware you're Jeonghan's pretty assistant. Instead of telling you he knows who you are, he decides to let this play out. It's not like he actually wanted to go on a date with Angel.
From the beginning he can tell that you're shy. He makes small talk with you, and actively goes out of his way to avoid talking about anything related to the real Angel.
He does want to tease you a little and see if you will own up to the lie. "Angel is a pretty name." He says before taking a sip of his wine.
"Thank you."
"How did your parents pick that name?"
"Grandmother named me." That isn't a lie. Angel was actually named by her grandmother.
The dinner is nice, an even though you're pretending to be someone else, Seungcheol can't help but find you interesting. He wishes he could ask you out again instead of the woman you're pretending to be.
The night ends with Seungcheol walking you to the car Angel ordered for you. He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on top.
"It was nice getting to meet you." He says.
"This was nice. I feel like I haven't gone out on a date this night in a really long time." You haven't gone on a date in years, and even though this is under false pretenses, this was nice.
"Maybe we could do this again."
He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. "Could I have your number please?"
Taking his phone, you hesitantly put in your contact info. You hate that you have to write your name as Angel, but you have no choice.
The whole car ride back to Angel's place you can't help but feel guilty that you enjoyed your night out with him. You feel bad you had to lie to him. Seungcheol seems like a great guy, and doesn’t deserve that.
AN UNEXPECTED CONTRACT
Since your blind date that took place three months ago, you've actively gone out of your way to avoid Seungcheol at work. That's been a little difficult occasionally due to the fact that your boss Jeonghan is best friends with the CEO of the company. Whenever you knew Seungcheol was on the floor looking for Jeonghan, you've made yourself scarce.
You don't know that the CEO is a smart man and is well aware you're avoiding him. He's wanted to text you too many times to count, but he can tell by the way you're avoiding him that you won't respond.
Seungcheol day started with his father meeting him in his office. His father is sitting in his chair at his desk.
"Good morning father." Seungcheol says before sitting his bag down on his desk.
"Son, I have important things to discuss with you."
Seungcheol lets out a heavy sigh before sitting down across from him. He just wants this conversation over with quickly.
"Your mother and I have been discussing things and it's clear you have no intention of settling down. We've decided to set you up in an arranged marriage." The room suddenly feels suffocatingly small. The word 'arranged marriage' keeps playing in mind on repeat.
"What?"
"Your mother has a perfect woman to be your wife. Lena comes from the Park family that owns the Park Finacal Banks." Seungcheol knows exactly who he is talking about. The idea of being thrown into an arranged marriage with a stuck up narcissistic heiress makes him want to throw up.
All of Seungcheol's logical thoughts are slipping out of his brain at a rapid pace. "I'm seeing someone!" He shouts.
"You are?"
"Yes. We were keeping things private."
"Who is she?"
"She works for our company. She's Jeonghan assistant."
"She's poor?" His father sounds extremely confused.
"What she makes doesn't matter to me. The only thing that matters is the fact we're in love."
His father leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "How long have you been seeing her?"
"Three months."
"You either marry her, or the Park's daughter."
"It's too soon for us to get married."
"If she rejects your proposal, you'll marry Lena." His father stands up.
Seungcheol feels stuck in his place. His father walks out of his office as Seungcheol tries to wrap his brain around what just happened.
The door slams shut and Seungcheol instantly snaps out of it. He stands up quickly and rushes out of his office. His assistant Seungkwan stands up.
"Seungcheol, is everything okay?"
"I got to go. Move my meeting to tomorrow. Tell them I'm dealing with an emergency."
Seungcheol walks to the elevator in a rush. The doors open and quickly walks in. His office is on the seventeenth floor. He presses the sixteenth floor the one you and Jeonghan work on. He needs to get to you before you can hide from him. The doors open and he rushes to your desk, outside of Jeonghan office.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of him rushing to you. "I need to talk to you, please don't run and hide."
"Okay." You say softly.
He barges into Jeonghan's office. Jeonghan looks up from his computer very confused. "I'm taking your assistant for the day. Tell Joshua to find someone to fill in for her."
"What the fuck is happening?" Jeonghan is extremely confused.
"I'm going to propose to your assistant and hope that she says yes."
"That doesn't explain anything, Cheol. I've never seen you speak to her."
Seungcheol let's out a heavy sigh. "Come to my house after eight and I'll explain everything. Just ask Joshua to get you a second assistant."
Seungcheol walks out of Jeonghan office and sees you still sitting at your desk, looking extremely nervous.
"You're not fired or anything, so don't worry about that. Just grab your purse and anything you bring with you everyday. We're not coming back to office today."
Silently you stand up and grab your purse. "Um, sir, I can't really afford to miss work."
"You'll be paid for today, don't worry."
With your purse in hand you follow Seungcheol to the elevator. Silently, you stand there waiting for the doors to open. The elevator dings and you both step inside.
Seungcheol his the underground level for the parking garage. You stand there not sure what you should say to him.
"I'm aware you're not Angel, just so you know."
Your heart instantly drops. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm not mad about it."
"Angel is seeing someone else her parents don't know about. Did you know all along I wasn't Angel?"
"Yeah, I have a good memory, and recognized you immediately."
The elevator dings and the doors open. You both step out into the parking garage.
"Did you drive here?" He asks.
"No, I took the train. I don't own a car."
"Okay, follow me to my car." He starts walking toward his CEO parking spot.
"Sir, where are we going?"
"To lunch and to discuss a contract."
You follow him to his expense all black Maserati. He stands on the passenger side and opens the door. Sliding into a sport car that looks too expensive to touch, you're extremely confused by everything that's happening.
Seungcheol gets into the drivers seat silently as he starts the car. He turns on the radio to help cut the awkward silence. The drive to the restaurant isn't too long. He pulls up to an expensive looking hotel. He hands the keys to the valet before he walks around and quickly opens your door.
"Come on." He says.
You follow behind him with your heels clacking against the expensive marble flooring.
Workers bow their heads at Seungcheol as he heads towards the elevator. He presses the button and the doors slide open. Silently, you stand next to him. You have zero clue why he dragged you out of work and brought you here.
He presses the button to the seventeenth floor. He checks his watch and glances over at you. The silence between you is deafening.
The doors slide open and he hold his hand out, guesturing for you to go first.
He walks up an expensive looking restaurant. The host immediately lights up. "Mr. Choi." The host bows his head.
"Two please."
Immediately you're led off through the expensive restaurant. You've seen lunches here booked on Jeonghan schedule. You're led over to a plush booth that overlooks the city.
The waitress immediately comes over and places two glasses of wine in front of you. You can't even pick up the menu, you just stare at Seungcheol.
"I'm aware your name isn't Angel."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I recognized you the moment you sat down."
He doesn't say anything else. He just opens the menu. "Do you know what you would like to eat?"
"I'm not hungry." You appetite disappeared as you were pulled away from work.
"Please, order something." He folds the menu placing it down in front of him.
The waitress comes back for the order and Seungcheol orders himself the salmon. The waitress turns to you, and you just blankly stare at the man across from you.
"My date will take the lemon chicken." He says, handing over the menu.
The silence between you is incredibly loud. Seungcheol's eyes are fixated on you. Grabbing the glass of wine he takes a big gulp. He doesn't even bother slowly sipping on it.
"Mr. Choi, what is this about?" You finally break the silence.
"You didn't call me Mr. Choi on our date. Please call me Seungcheol or Cheol." He raises his brow before taking another drink of wine.
"That date was a mistake on my part." If you could go back in time you would never let Angel convince you to go out.
His brows furrow together. "A mistake?"
"Yes, a mistake. I lied to you, and that's not fair to you."
"I don't care that you lied to me."
It's your turn to now furrow your brows. "You don't?"
"No I don't care."
"Oh." You thought for sure he was mad about your lies.
"I'm here because I have a business proposal for you." He takes a deep breath. "My father informed me today, that he plans on setting me up into an arranged marriage."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Well you see, I told him I can't marry someone else, because I'm seeing someone and I'm very serious about them." You have no clue who he could possibly be talking about.
"Yeah?" You ask.
"I told him I'm dating you, Jeonghan's assistant." His words if you like an ice cold bucket of water. Your stomach drops and you're rendered speechless. "I know it's crazy. See, here's the thing, my father says I either propose to you, and marry you or I'm marrying Lena from the Park Bank family." You know exactly who he's talking about, Angel has mentioned her on multiple occasions. According to your best friend Lena is a narcissistic, social climber.
You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, and lets out a sigh.
"What are you asking of me?" You finally find the right words to say.
"I'm asking you to be my fiancée. We don't have to get married right away or anything. But I need you to play the role of my fiancée until my parents push hard enough for us to get married. Maybe we can make it a long engagement and I'll figure out an exit plan." He's absolutely insane. Your eyes are wide, and all you can do is blink at him. You can't process the fact, that he basically just proposed to you.
Reaching out, you grab your glass of wine, and without another thought, start chugging the rich liquid.
"I know this is crazy."
You set the empty glass on the table. "Am I being punished for lying to you?"
"No, not at all. I just thought this could be beneficial to both of us." He shakes his head.
"Beneficial?"
"Yes, you'll move into my penthouse, and I'll take care of you."
"To sleep with you? I know I lied, but I'm not sleeping with you and playing house with you."
He puts his hands up. "Woo, I'm not asking you to have sex with me. I'll set up the guest room just for you. You'll have your own space, and we can be roommates basically."
"What about my job?" You're pretty sure being engaged to the ceo is against hr policies.
"I'm technically your boss, but Jeonghan is in charge of you. You can continue working for him or I'll get you another position. Or you can be stay at home fiancée. I want to fully support you. If you're going to help me with this, it's the least I can do." Is he offering to be your sugar daddy?
"As a sugar daddy?" You blurt out.
"No, as your fiancé, I would be your providor."
The waitress comes over intrupting this absolutely insane conversation. She pours more wine into each of your glasses. You both go quiet for a moment.
"If I agree to this, what are the rules?" You've struggled to get by off and on through our your life. You realize that this business proposal could be a blessing, you can live comfortably and not worry about money.
"I haven't thought that far ahead. I think the one thing that needs to be clear is, we can't see other people. And when we're in public, we have to act like we're a couple. The only person who can know we're not together is Jeonghan."
"I need to have someone I can talk to about this. I need to tell Angel. She won't tell anyone. She has her own secrets she keeps hid away, and won't share ours." Seungcheol wants to laugh at the fact that of all people you bring up the girl that started this whole mess for you.
"Okay. I'll get you a proper engagement ring today. I want to have you moved in by the end of the week."
The waitress walks over and sets your food down in front of you.
"By the way, you're going to have to be comfortable sharing kisses and holding my hand in public." The idea of sharing public affection with Seungcheol doesn't sound terrible.
He reaches out, holding his hand over the table. "Darling, do we have a deal?" Reaching out your grab his hand and shake it.
"I accept your business proposal."
THE HOTTEST NEW COUPLE
Everything has felt like a whirlwind. Seungcheol was true to his word, he got you a beautiful engagement ring, and three days after your agreement, you had moved out of your studio apartment into his huge penthouse.
With the help of Seungkwan, he made sure your bedroom was perfect. The guestroom that is now your room is absolutely beautiful, and it even has its own ensuite bathroom with a beautiful claw foot tub, and a shower that can comfortably have four people in it. Seungcheol stocked it, with all the products you use. He wasn't lying when he said he would take care of you. He brought over all your clothes, and even bought you a ton of new stuff to wear.
You get to work two days before it's all over the news that you and Seungcheol are engaged. As soon as everyone knows, things instantly change.
Walking into work with Seungcheol, you can feel everyone's eyes trained on you. The two front desk girls who are the biggest gossips intentally watch. Seungcheol shoots them both a smile before lacing his fingers with yours.
The two girls immediately leans in and clearly start whispering to each other.
Looking down while you walk, you try your hardest to ignore all the staring.
The doors to the elevator slide open, and Seungcheol leads you inside. He doesn't release your hand as he presses the button to the floor you work on.
There is a long beat of silence. "The people are going to talk about our relationship, but I just need you to ignore it."
"Okay." You aren't exactly sure how you can just ignore people whispering about you.
"It should calm down shortly."
The elevator stops on your floor and Seungcheol instantly can tell you're stressed. He releases your hand. "Hey, everything will be okay."
"Okay." You don't know if your saying that for him, or yourself.
The doors open and you step out. Seungcheol stays back and gives you a smile before the doors close.
Walking through the office, you can feel too many eyes on you. You head straight for Jeonghan’s office. You give his closed door a knock before stepping inside. You've never been happier that Jeonghan gets to work early.
Jeonghan is sitting at his desk leaning back sipping a coffee. "You know Joshua got me a second assistant, you don't have to rush in here bright and early now."
"I'm kinda freaking out and need a moment away from all of the gossips that work for this company." Jeonghan may be your boss, but you have grown to consider him your friend.
"Oh, I see news of your engagement hit the media."
You sit down in the chair in front of his desk. "I'm not used to this. Seungcheol is used to this, the media has always loved him. Before all of this no one knew who I was."
"The media circus will calm down soon. You guys will be the hot gossip for maybe a week."
You hate being the center of attention and this is making you feel uncomfortable. "I don't like that I know that everyone in the this office is talking about me."
"Don't let them bother you." Jeonghan sits his iced latte on the table.
"It's hard not to."
"Mina is working at her desk outside. Why don't your grab your laptop and work in my office for now?" Mina is Jeonghan second assistant Seungcheol requested he got.
"Don't you need privacy?"
"No."
"What about meetings?"
"There is a conference room on this floor and the big one on floor ten." Jeonghan has clearly thought about this.
"Okay."
Things from this day shifted. Everyone officially knows about your engagement. Jeonghan has gone out of his way to protect you from people talking about. He may be your boss, but through this he's become one of your closest friends.
Living in Seungcheol's penthouse feels strange. His large penthouse doesn't feel like home. You just feel like a guest, living here for now.
It's been a long day at work, since Seungcheol has to stay over for a meeting Jeonghan offers to drop you off.
Arriving at your new home, you slip off your heels and head towards your room. Looking through your drawers, you find some lounge wear to change into. After a long day at work, a scorching hot shower sounds amazing.
Walking into the bathroom you strip away your clothes. Stepping into the shower, you try to turn your brain off. This whole engagement with Seungcheol is still a lot to process.
Standing under the hot water, you try your hardest to turn off your brain, but you can't. You just keep thinking about the way everyone now looks at you.
There is this little voice inside your head that says people probably just think you're a gold digger.
Shaking your head, you try and push away the nasty thoughts. Grabbing your favorite shampoo, you start washing your hair.
Getting out of the shower you get dressed in the comfy clothes you picked out. Your bare feed pad across the hardwood floor as you make your way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you look for the ingredients to make something to eat. Cooking has always been one thing you like to do to relax.
Opening the drawer you find two steaks. You hestiate to pick them up. It feels weird to use things without asking for permission, but Seungcheol has told you a few time, that anything in the house is yours.
Pulling the steaks from the fridge you look for some veggies that would go good with them.
Grabbing your phone, you turn on some music. You sing along to each song as you prep your dinner. Maybe if Seungcheol doesn't get home super late, he can enjoy a warm meal for dinner.
You get lost in the music, and cooking. You plate the steak giving it time to rest. Walking over to the wine friend in the counter, you find a bottle of wine. You stare a the label for a moment, hoping and praying you didn't pick an insanely expensive bottle. Reaching into the cupboard you grab a glass.
You pour the deep cherry colored wine into the glass. The merlot tastes devine.
Sitting at the table by yourself you enjoy your second glass of wine. You're taking your time eating, hoping Seungcheol will be home soon. You know you can just ask him when he'll be home, but for some reason that feels inappropriate to you.
Scrolling through your phone as you slowly eat, you can't help but smile as the front door opens. A very exhausted looking Seungcheol walks in.
He looks up at the table and finds you giving him a gentle smile.
"Hi." He awkwardly waves.
"I made dinner for you."
You stand up quickly, and rush towards the kitchen. Seungcheol takes his time taking off his bag, and walks towards the dining area. Walking back into the dining area you place down the plate and bring another glass for wine.
"This looks amazing." Seungcheol is learning that you love cooking.
"Thank you. Sorry if you were saving these steaks."
He takes a seat across from where you were sitting. "Anything is this house is yours." He's told you this so many times. It's just extremely hard to wrap your mind around that.
Reaching out he grabs the bottle of wine, and pours himself a glass. Having dinner with him like this feels very domestic. It feels almost a little too real.
You eat in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. "Sorry I had to stay so late at work. I'm trying really hard not to be as much of a workaholic." Anyone who knows him knows what a hard worker he is. He's always been known for speanding countless late night hours at the office. You've been there a handful of times with Jeonghan working late with him.
"My father called."
"What did he say?" You know that Seungcheol and his father's relationship can't be kind of difficult at times.
"He saw the news of our engagement, and has requested for us to join them for dinner one night." The idea of having dinner with Seungcheol's family is quite terrifying. You're sure they're nice people but they're extremely rich and live an very different life style then the one you're used to.
You knit your brows together, unsure of how to respond.
"I told them it can't be anytime soon, that we're very busy."
"Oh."
"We can avoid that dinner for a while. I have to travel quite a bit for work soon, and you won't be meeting them without me."
"Okay." Grabbing the glass of wine, you take another big drink.
"Hey." He reaches out, taking your hand. "I know this isn't a normal engagement, but just know that we're a team. I have your back, when you agreed to help me that meant we became partners." You still barely know him, but you can't help but feel as if you're catching feelings for him. Seungcheol is truly the ultimate man. It would be nearly impossible not to have a crush on him.
OH HES A GENTLEMAN
The media is having a hay day with the fact one of the cities most eligible bachelors is now taken. Everyone one online is talking about your "secret relationship." Too many threads online are speculating about how long you have been together.
Everyday you go into work holding Seungcheol's hand, and every afternoon you sit in his office eating lunch. Sometimes it's just the two of you, and occasionally Jeonghan will join.
He finds it quite humorous, watching the two of you play the role of the happily engaged couple.
You've be technically engaged for three weeks, and outside of work you haven't done anything together other then relax at home. You've had a handful of movie night, the select times Seungcheol is working from home on something.
Today, he came home from a meeting out of the office after eight. It's one of those night you didn't feel like cooking, so you settled for ordering yourself takeout from your favorite Thai food place, and made yourself comfortable on the couch, reading a book. Seungcheol barges in holding a shopping bag from Prada.
"Hi, darling." Ever since he proposed he started calling your this nickname. You won't complain though, you find it charming. You've never had anyone call you a sweet pet name.
"Hi, Cheol."
Pulling the blanket off your lap, you place your book down and walk over towards Seungcheol. "Did you go shopping?" You realized immediately that Seungcheol has a love for luxury designer items. All his suits he wears to the office are designer. Your favorite ones, being his Prada ones.
"I got you something." He holds the bag out towards you.
"Why?" You're very much not used to him buying you things, let alone expensive luxury items.
"Because you're my fiancée, and I saw this and thought of you."
Sitting the bag on the table, you pull out the tissue and find a black box with a bow on it. Your heart drops already knowing what's inside. One day while you were leaving work together you saw a woman with this bag and you told him how that was your dream bag. Your first mistake was letting him know you had a desire to own something expensive like this.
Opening the box, you want to cry at the sight, of the beautiful black leather bag, you've always dreamed of owning. To be quite honest, you're a little caught off guard by how much he's spoiling you. You have to remind yourself that this is a business transaction. That there are no romantic intentions behind his purchase. You need to tell yourself this a gift from a "friend."
"Seungcheol, this is beautiful." He gives you a crooked smile.
"I'm glad you like it." The second he knew you wanted this bag, he fully planned on buying it for you.
Your eyes start to water, you reach up pushing away your tears before they can fall. You can't help but feel embarrassed for crying in front of him. "I was thinking, even though this is a business transaction, that maybe we could still go on dates." You've been thinking about brining this up for the last few days. Angel had put the idea into your brain. Your best friend loves the idea that you and Seungcheol are living together. According to her, Seungcheol will treat you right and take care of you. She not wrong, you haven't been together that long and Seungcheol is actively going out of his way to be an amazing partner to you.
He nods and smiles. "I would love to take you out on dates." He steps toward you and leans in and presses his lips to your cheek for a gentle kiss. "How about we go out tomorrow night?"
"I would love that."
"What are you reading?"
"Just some romance novel Angel has been talking about nonstop." Your best friend has always loved a spicy romance novel, she's even roped you into reading them with her.
"What did you do for dinner?" Seungcheol asks as he removes his suit jacket.
"I ordered Thai food."
"Is there any left?"
"Yeah, I ordered enough for both of us."
You lead him into the kitchen and help dish him a plate. Sitting at the kitchen table, you silently read your book as he eats dinner.
-
Seungcheol made a big deal to both Seungkwan and Jeonghan that he need to be off on time today. He's gone out of his way to plan a romantic date night for you both.
Sitting at Jeonghan's desk, you're working on organizing his meetings for the next few days.
"You know your adoring fiancé is making a big deal about some date night?" Jeonghan looks up from his phone.
Your cheeks warm with blush. "Is he?"
"You now for this just being a business transaction, he's putting in a lot of effort to woo you." You thought when Seungcheol made this proposition, that this would simply be a business transaction, but things from the very beginning have felt a little too real.
The moment you clock out of work, Seungcheol is already at Jeonghan's office, ready to pick you up.
He's dressed in your favorite navy Prada suit he owns. In his hand he's holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses.
Jeonghan leans back in his desk chair, holding back a laugh. He's eating up the fact that Seungcheol is putting in a real effort.
"Are you ready to go?" Seungcheol asks, holding the bouquet out.
"Yes." Thank god you wore your favorite dress to work today, and decided to actually wear a pair of heels.
"Did you send Seungkwan off to pick those up?" Jeonghan chimes in.
"No." Seungcheol responds before grabbing your hand.
The second you step out of Jeonghan's office, hand in hand with the ceo of the company, all eyes are on you. Blush creeps up on your neck, realizing everyone in eye shot is staring at you.
Seungcheol squeezes your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. He stops at the elevator. Leaning down his lips brush your ear. "Darling, ignore all of them."
Reaching, he presses the button. Silently you glance up at him. "You look beautiful." If only he knows that you wore a sexy red matching lingerie set he probably won't see.
The doors slide open and he leads you inside. As more people join you in the elevator, you end up practically pressed against him.
Walking outside you find Seungcheol’s expensive red Ferrari waiting for you. He wastes no time taking the flowers and holding the door open for you.
He jumps in the drive seat and puts the flowers back in your lap.
The drive to the restaurant is filled with a comfortable silence, as Seungcheol hums along to the radio.
You've learned since living with him, he loves singing along the radio lightly, and singing when he's in the shower.
He pulls the car up to the valet and you immediately recognize this restaurant. You've booked a few very important meetings for Jeonghan here. This place is crazy expensive.
The passenger door opens and Seungcheol is holding his hand out for you. "Come on, darling."
Your heels click against the marble floor. Hand in hand he leads you to host. "Two for Choi." He says holding up two fingers.
The hostess leads you over to a booth tucked away in the corner. Sliding into the booth, he sits down across from you. The hostess sits down a simple paper menu down in front of you. This place is known for the Omakase style. The sushi chef here is world renowned.
The waitress comes back over, and Seungcheol orders a nice bottle of sake.
Dinner is absolutely incredible. You've never had sushi this delicious before. The whole time you're eating and talking you can't help but notice how Seungcheol lights up as he talks to you. If you didn't know any better you might be think has feelings for you.
"Thank you for taking me out." You say before taking a sip of your sake.
"This is nice. We should try and go on a date once, or twice a week." When he talks to you like this, it's hard to tell yourself that this isn't real.
"I would like that."
The bill arrives and before the waitress can even put it down, Seungcheol is holding up his black card. You don't even want to know how expensive this date was.
Leaving the restaurant, Seungcheol immediately laces his fingers with yours. "Do you have room for dessert?" He ask before walking up to the valet.
"Yes."
"How do you feel about vanilla soft serve?"
"It sounds delicious."
Tugging on your hand, he leads you down the street to a little ice cream shop next door. He holds the door open, stepping inside you're reminded how overdressed you are. Your heels click against the tile. Seungcheol never releases your hand as he walks up and orders to cones.
The lady working the counter hands your a tall vanilla ice cream cone. Seungcheol leads your over to a little table by the window. He releases your hand as he helps you sit down. He takes his place across from you.
You slide your tongue through the creamy and sweet vanilla soft serve. Seungcheol's eyes stay on you, watching you enjoy your sweet treat.
"Have you been here before?" You ask before taking another lick.
"I like to come here after meetings. If it's a bad meeting it's a little pick me up, and if it's a good meeting, it's a celebration."
"What would you call this?"
"A celebration, after a nice date."
After ice cream you finally head back home. The whole ride you can't stop thinking about the way Seungcheol was looking at you. Recently, he's been flirting quite a bit, and things are just starting to feel too real. You realize maybe you really want things to be real.
THE TALK OF THE TOWN
Something about today feels off. Your morning started by spilling your coffee, and by the time you arrived to work with Seungcheol you're fed up with the constant stares from everyone at work.
Standing in the copy room, you're atempting to scan some items in peace. The door opens and you glance over to find two girls who work in accounting whispering and softly giggling. Taking a deep breath, you try and push away the negative thoughts floating around in your brain.
You know Seungcheol is used to being the talk around town, and having everyone stare at him, but you aren't used to this. You feel like a circus act.
Grabbing your papers, you quickly exit the room. You can feel both their eyes burning into you. Walking through office you can feel everyone continue to watch you.
Busting into Jeonghan office, you desperately need to escape everyone's prying eyes.
He looks up from his computer and knits his brows together. You must look absolutely frazzled.
"Are you okay?"
Closing your eyes you take another deep breath trying to gather yourself. "Yes." Lying feels like the best option at the moment.
"Sit down and stop lying to me."
Placing the papers down on the desk you sit across from him.
"What is going on?" He reaches for his coffee that's sitting next to him.
"I'm tired of everyone staring at me, and everyone talking about me when I enter a room here." You say quickly.
"Don't let them get to you, they're just jealous."
"Jeonghan, it's not that easy." You sigh.
"I know. But just know that Seungcheol and I will always have your back."
"Your fiancé has a meeting during lunch." He always gives you a mischievous smile whenever he refers to Seungcheol as your fiancé. "How about we go get some lunch together?"
"That would be nice."
Jeonghan leads you out of the office. You aren't sure what he has planned, but you follow him to the little cafe on the corner. The holds up two fingers and waiteess immediately leads you to the table by the window.
You sit down across from Jeonghan, picking up the menu. You realize you've had food delivered from this restaurant before for him.
"This is the place with your favorite chicken pesto sandwich."
"I was gonna order us lunch from here, but you clearly need an hour away from the office." Jeonghan sets his menu down. "I'm going to recommend my favorite, the chicken pesto. I would also suggest getting the lychee lemonade."
"How about you order for me," you give him a smile.
The waitress comes back and Jeonghan does order for you. This place is cute. Looking around, you wonder if Seungcheol would have lunch with you here one day.
The waitress comes back over and sets down a glass of ice cold lemonade in front of you, and a latte in front of Jeonghan.
"So, how is life being engaged?" He asked as he sticks his straw in his latte.
"Socially not the best, at home with Seungcheol—" At home things are feeling too real, and you cant help but constantly be confused.
Jeonghan raises his brow, before taking a sip of coffee. "Something tells me you're enjoying the aspect of sharing a home with him."
A heavy sigh passes your lips. "I can't talk about this with you. You're his best friend."
He shrugs. "Anything you say to me, won't be repeated. He may be my best friend, but I'm also friends with you."
"Things just feel a little too real right now."
Jeonghan nods before taking a drink of the cold beverage in front of him. "You know, Seungcheol seems happier since you both started the arrangement."
He's not wrong, before all of this started, whenever you would see Seungcheol around the office he was always sporting a frown. These days it's rare you don't see him smiling. The only time he doesn't seem happy, is when his father is in the office.
"He's not the only one that seems happier." You glances at you, raising his brow. "I don't think I have ever seen you this consistently happy." Before Seungcheol, you were a lot more stressed. Your job pays you well, but worrying about paying rent and all your expenses was too stressful at points. It's nice knowing, no matter what Seungcheol will take care of you.
"I feel happier. I spending time with him, and he's great to live with."
"I think you two would make a fantastic couple."
The waitress comes over and sets down both your meals. Jeonghan thanks her, and gives her a gentle smile.
"Aren't we already a couple?"
"I'm saying, if you start acting like this is fully real, you'll be even happier." Jeonghan's words play in your head on repeat. Over the last week or so you've wondered what it would like for your relationship with Seungcheol to be real. Sure, he takes you out and will hold your hand, but you want to know what it's like to kiss him and to be with him fully.
Arriving back at the office, you find Seungcheol by the elevator, with his phone pressed to his ear. The moment he see you and Jeonghan, he gives you a big smile.
Jeonghan nudges you and gently pushes you towards Seungcheol. Glancing over, you see the girls at the front desk clearly watching you, and whispering to each other.
Jeonghan immediately looks over at the girls. The startled look on their faces as he walks towards them says it all. The immediately stand up and bow their heads at him, clearly apologizing.
Seungcheol glances over there as he pockets his phone. He takes a couple steps towards you before pulling you into his chest for a hug.
He kisses the top of your head before you leading you towards the elevator.
-
CRAVING SOMETHING MORE
Sitting in Angel's favorite restaurant downtown, you're sipping on a latte listening to her talk about the crazy things Soonyoung has done to her in bed recently. It's been so long since you've been intimate with anyone, that hearing about her sex life is reminding you how much you miss sex.
"You look like you're zoning out." Angel says before taking a sip of her own latte.
"I'm listening." You raise your brow, leaning back.
"What's going through your mind?"
"Nothing." You don't want to have this conversation, let alone have it in the middle of a cafe.
"I don't believe you." She pouts. "Just tell me what's going on."
Reaching for your coffee, you take another sip of your ice latte. "Fine. I'm just thinking about the fact I miss being intimate with someone."
"Girl, last time I check you lived with a super hot buff guy who calls himself your fiancé."
"It's not that easy. We both know he's not fully my fiancé."
Angel dramatically rolls her eyes. "Um, last time I checked random men don't buy just any girl a Prada bag she's always dreamed of."
"He did that just to be nice." You look at said bag sitting on the table next to you.
"Girl, if you're missing sex and being intimate with someone, ride your sexy fake fiance." Angel has never been one to mend her words.
You're in the middle of a crowded cafe. The last thing you need is to have people hearing about your so called relationship with with Seungcheol. "Angel." You look around hoping no one is paying attention.
"What? You're the one who clearly seems to be pent up. Sometning tells me, your fiance would be down."
"Keep it down. I don't need the whole cafe in my business."
Angel smirks before taking a sip of her drink. "Are you bringing Seungcheol to my birthday tonight?"
"Yes." When you invited Seungcheol, you weren't sure if he would agree. It's been a few months since you've been faking your relationship, but you haven't attempted a social outing like this.
"Make a move on him tonight. Have yourself a little cocktail and loosen up and tell him you want to ride him into the sun." You can't even respond you just stare at her absolutely embarrassed. "Wear that skin tight lace dress I bought you. I promise you, Seungcheol won't be able to keep his hands to himself."
-
Arriving at Angel's luxury penthouse, you're dressed in the skimpiest dress you own. Standing outside the door, you keep attempting to smooth out the front of your dress. Seungcheol is standing next to you in a pair of black jeans, a white shirt that hugs his large frame, and a leather jacket. Looking down at your feet, you realize these high heels might have been a mistake.
"You look gorgeous by the way."
"Huh?" You look up at him, knitting your brows together.
"You keep messing with your dress, and I just want to let you know, you look incredible." He reaches out, taking your hand away from your stomach.
"I feel like the dress is too tight and makes my stomach stand out." You've always been a little bit self conscious about your body, and this dress isn't helping that.
"I promise you, you look sexy as hell."
Your ears burn with embarrassment. "Thank you."
The door swing opens and you find Angel standing there. "Come inside now." She grabs your free hand, pulling you and Seungcheol inside.
Her place is filled to the brim with too many people to count. Looking around, you see some familiar faces, and too people you have never seen before. She leads you off to her room where Soonyoung is sitting on her bed.
"Hi." He awkwardly waves to you and Seungcheol.
Angel releases your hand and walks over to Soonyoung. You immediately notice how he lights up instantly.
"I have the good alcohol tucked away in here. The last thing I need is people getting into my thousand dollar scotch." She walks over and grabs the expensive bottle of the dresser.
"How about we takes shots to celebrate my birthday?" She smiles.
"Sure." Seungcheol responds.
Soonyoung hops off the bed and goes over to the bar cart by her huge walk in closet. He comes back holding four crystal glass shot glasses.
Angel runs off to her closet while Soonyoung pours the dark liquor. She comes back dressed in a completely different dress. She wearing a vintage dress that looks incredible on her.
Soonyoung passes around the shots. Seungcheol raises his and says, "to the birthday girl."
Everyone takes their shots. The dark liquor burns as it slides down your throat. Your eyes stay trained on Seungcheol, watching as he's absolutely unfazed by the strong liquor.
Everyone puts there shot glasses back. Standing close to Seungcheol, he throws his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to him.
"My room is off limits to anyone who isn't in here now. If you guys need some privacy feel free to come in here." She raises her eyes brows at both of you suggestively.
Glancing up at Seungcheol you see him biting back a smile.
Reaching over, she grabs Soonyoung's hand and leads him out of her room. You're left standing their was Seungcheol.
"Should we go be social?" He asks.
"Probably."
Heading out of her room, you head off toward the kitchen. The kitchen is filled with people. Seungcheol makes his way to the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of beer and cracks it open.
"What would you like to drink?" He asks loud enough for you to hear over the booming music.
"I'll take a beer." He hands you the one he already opened and grabs another one.
It's not long before some of your friends find you, and immediately start chatting with Seungcheol. It seems everyone wants to know your "fiancée". You can't blame them, he's extremely charming and kind. You spend your night making small talk people. The whole night Seungcheol is by your side. Even when he's talking to someone else, you have his attention. His hand is always on you in one way or another. His hand on the small of your back makes every logical thought start slowly slipaway.
You excuse yourself, needing a moment to think. Walking through the crowded penthouse, you make your way to Angel's room. Heading to the ensuite bathroom you take your time using the restroom, before touching up your lip oil. You stare into the mirror, and start soothing out your dress.
A knock on the door startles you. You open door and aren't surprised to see Seungcheol standing there. His jacket is off, and your eyes instantly travel across his broad chest. This man looks mouth watering in absolutely anything he wears.
"I shouldn't have followed you, clearly you want space." He mumbles.
You shake your head. "I just needed a moment. I'm glad you followed me."
Without saying another word he steps towards you. He stands so close to you, there is barely any distance between you. Looking up at him you stand a slow breath. His large hand rest on rests on your cheek. Parting your lips slightly. He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
"You're so pretty." He rasp. You can't think of anything to say, you just slowly blink at him. "My pretty fiancée." Leaning in his nose brushes against yours.
"Seungcheol?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Don't play games with me."
A smile tugs at his lips. "I would never do that."
The moment his lips touch you, the oxygen as been sucked out of the room. One hand holds your face, while the other rests on your side, holding you close to him. One of your hand clutches his shirt.
Your lips move together as if your need each other to breathe. He pulls back slightly and gives you a smile. He turns your body so you're pressed against the wall. Your dress rises up your thighs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down towards you.
Kissing him is intoxicating. Any liquor you had during the party is long gone from your veins. Now you're drunk on Seungcheol. His hands rest on your hips, holding your close to him. You don't know how long you've been kissing for. His lips muffle your moans.
Pulling back, his lips are smeared with your lip oil. You both look slightly disheveled. You should be enjoying the fact that you finally kissed, but right now the only thing you can think about is what this means.
"We should go home." He says, pulling away. Your stomach sinks instantly. Your heart rate picks up as anxiety kicks in. Maybe you shouldn't have made out with your fake fiancé.
The car ride back to the house, feels different. Seungcheol hand is resting on your thigh. You catch him occasionally glancing over at you.
The moment you're inside, Seungcheol says goodnight before quickly kissing your forehead and disappearing off into his room.
After finally stripping away your tight lace dress that's left you feeling uncomfortable all night, you finally step into a hot shower.
The hot water helps strip away the tension. No matter how hard you try, you can't get the feeling of Seungcheol's lips on yours out of your mind.
NOTHING MORE THAN A GOLD DIGGER
It's been a week since your kiss you shared, and absolutely nothing has changed. There are still the lingering touches from him and longing looks from you, but nothing more has happened.
It's been clear since this morning that Seungcheol isn't having a good day. It's a Saturday and normally neither of you work on the weekends. Today is different though, Seungcheol has spent all morning locked away in his office.
You spend the morning out with Angel getting lunch and you thought maybe by the time you returned home Seungcheol would be done working.
Sitting on the couch, you're mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Seungcheol's office door opens. He closes the door and pauses, taking a deep breath. He walks out into the living room and finds you sitting on the couch.
"Are you okay?" You close your phone, and sit it down on the couch next to you.
"I'm sorry to do this, but we have to go to my parents house for dinner tonight." The frustrated look on his face lets you know everything you need to know. He moves and sits down on the couch next you. He leans back, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I don't mind going." It's not exactly a lie. You will absolutely go to stand by Seungcheol side, but you're quite scared to meet his parents. Specifically his father.
He pushes himself up, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm not saying this because you don't always look nice, but I need you to look extra nice tonight. My parents are judgy." You know what he means, you don't take offense to what he says.
"What should I wear?"
"Why don't you wear that Chanel dress I bought you, and pair of heels?" You know the exact dress he's talking about. He randomly gave it to you last week, and you told yourself you were going to save it for a special occasion. You didn't expect that special occasion to be meeting his parents.
"Okay. What time are we going?"
"Can you be ready by five?" That's two hours away, it won't take you that long to get ready.
"Yeah."
You both go your separate ways, Seungcheol heads off to his room, and you head off to your bathroom.
Turning the shower on, you let the water warm up. Stripping away your clothes you step into the warm water. Tonight calls for an everything shower. You wash your hair, scrub your body with you warm vanilla scented sugar scrub, before you take your time shaving.
After the shower you take your time, applying your fancy body oils, and lotions. Your goal is to feel as nice as possible tonight.
Heading off to the closet you find the exact dress Seungcheol gave you. The dress fits perfectly. The only problem is, you can't reach the back zipper. Picking up your heels you walk out into the living room. You glance into the kitchen to find Seungcheol standing there drinking what looks to be a glass of whiskey.
You drop your heels on the floor and walk towards. One of your hands is across your chest, holding up your dress.
"Can you help me with the zipper?"
He nods and walks up towards. Turning around you make sure your hair is out of the way. Slowly he slides the zipper up.
"There you go."
You turn back around to face him. His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, clearly checking you out.
"You look beautiful."
"Hopefully your parents like me." It shouldn't matter if they do, this whole relationship is fake, but you desperately want them to like you.
He stares at you trying to figure out what to say. He wants his parents to like you, but he knows how his father is.
"My dad is tough, but my mother is kind." He walks over and picks up the glass of whiskey. He chugs the rest of the liquid and doesn't even flinch.
"We should go." You say.
Arrive at Seungcheol's family home, you can't help but be in awe at how beautiful their home is.
Seungcheol parks his car in the driveway. The moment he's parked he hops out to open your door. He's clearly a mixture of nervous and frustrated.
Hand in hand he leads you to the front door. "No matter what, I have you back." Is the last thing he says before the door is opened.
Walking in you're immediately greeted by his mother. She's excited to see you both. She pulls Seungcheol in for a hug.
"Mother, this is my fiance." He does even get to say your name before his mother is pulling you in.
"Seungcheol said you're pretty, and he's not wrong, you're beautiful." Blush creeps across your cheeks. She releases you and leads you both towards the kitchen.
"Let's have a glass of wine."
Looking around the expensive hi-tech kitchen, you're truly reminded how different both your tax brackets are.
"Seungcheol, go get your father and tell him it's dinner time."
Seungcheol hand lingers on your lower back for a moment. He knits his brows together and opens his mouth, wanting to tell his mother no.
"I'll be okay." You mouth to him quietly.
Hesitantly, Seungcheol leaves you alone.
You glance over at Mrs. Choi, she gives you a gentle smile, one that reminds you of your own mother. She picks up a glass from the counter, and pours you a glass of white wine.
Taking the glass you stare at it for a moment before taking a sip.
"Seungcheol is a good man." His mother says.
"I know."
"My husband is a tough man, but he's tough because he's trying to protect the things he loves." This is her way of defending him. Seungcheol rarely speaks of his father, it's clear to you that they have quite a few issues.
"I would never do anything to hurt Seungcheol." You've fallen in love with her son, the last thing you want to do is hurt him.
"I can tell by the way that you both look at each other that you're in love." You stomach drops. Your feelings you have for Seungcheol don't feel like they're being reciprocated.
"He's a great man."
"I asked Seungcheol if you had any food allergies. I asked our chef to make something special for dinner tonight." She gives you another smile before taking a drink of her wine.
Seungcheol comes back alone. He can't hide the irritated look on his face. "He'll join us in a little while. Let's start dinner." He grabs your hand leading you towards the dining room.
Walking into the dining room, you're greeted by a long marble table. Four places are already set. Seungcheol shows you to your place and sits down next to you. His mother sits down across from you.
Silently, you sit there listening to Seungcheol and his mother talk. Its clear he's quite distant recently. She's a sweet lady, and it's clear she cares about her son.
The chef comes out and places down plates in front of you. The food looks absolutely delicious. Quitely you eat, listening to Mrs. Choi talk about a charity dinner she's hosting.
The moment Mr. Choi walks in the room the mood shifts. Mrs. Choi stands up to greet him. The feeling of Seungcheol large hand resting on your thigh instantly catches your attention.
"You must be my son's fiancée. The assistant." The way he's says your job title sounds degrading.
"Nice to meet you." Your voice is meek. You feel like you don't belong here.
"Don't speak to her like that." Seungcheol immediately responds.
His father barks out a laugh, sitting down at the table, across from him. A screaming silence takes over the room. The tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. His father doesn't say anything else as another round of food is brought out.
His mother goes back to talking about her charity event. You silently sit there eating. You can feel Mr. Choi's eyes burning into you.
"So, how did you manage to seduce my son?" He gives you a pointed look.
Glancing at Seungcheol, he grinds his teeth. His hand squeezes your thigh.
"I didn't persue your son."
"That's funny." Mr. Choi barks out another laugh.
"I asked her out. She wouldn't give me the time of day for month. I persued her." Seungcheol responds.
"Seungcheol, you're the cities most eligible bachelor and you picked a gold digger." His venomous works sting. Wincing, You avert your eyes.
Shoving his plate forwards, Seungcheol stands quickly. "You will not speak to my fiancée that way. Darling, let's go home." He reaches for your hand.
"Cheol." his mother stands up quickly.
His father leans back in his chair with his eye burning into you.
"Mother, I'm sorry. I'm not going to sit here and let him speak to her like that."
"Baby, let's go home." He's never called you that before. You can see the desperation behind his eyes.
Standing, you let him lead you out of house. The moment you're outside, he lets out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry." Is all he can say.
"It's okay." You're hurt, but that's not his fault.
The car ride home is filled with silence. It's clear Seungcheol is extremely upset. Walking into the house, he pauses and stares at you.
"I'm sorry," he repeats again.
"I'm okay."
Walking over to you, he rests his hand on your cheek. You think for a moment he might kiss you. He leans in and gently kisses your cheek before heading off to his bedroom.
-
No matter how hard you try, you can't sleep. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, your mind wonders to Seungcheol. Pulling yourself out of bed you glance at yourself in the full length mirror. You're dressed in panties that barely cover your butt and a baggy shirt that hits mid thigh. You should find a robe or something but right now, you just need to to get out of this room. Maybe a glass of water or something will help you relax.
Your sock covered feet pad against the hard wood floor. Walking through the living room, you glance over and see Seungcheol office door is cracked open, light is flickering out into the dark living room.
No thoughts are in your head as you walk towards his office. Not bothering to knock you peak your head in. You find his laptop in front of him. He's dressed in just a pair of cotton gray lounge pants. His beautiful bare torso is on display.
The sound of the door creeking closed catches his attention. Raising his head, his eyes catch yours.
"What are you doing up?" He pushes his chair back a little.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Why?"
"I was worried about you."
He pushes his fingers through his dark hair, and lets out a sigh. "You shouldn't have to worry about me."
You take a step towards his desk. His eyes travel up and down your very exposed legs. Thinking maybe you should have found something else to wear.
"Dinner upset you." You place your hand on the expense marble top desk.
"I was upset, because he was rude to you." He lets out a sigh. "I don't ever want to see you upset, and knowing that my father was intentionally rude to you—" he blinks and looks away. "I just don't like that he treated you that way, and he thought he could say those cruel things to you."
"I don't care what he thinks about me. I just care about what you think." You walk around the desk. He rolls his chair back, giving you room to stand in front of him.
He looks up at you with sad eyes. Reaching our you rest your hand on his cheek. "I don't like seeing you upset."
"I'm not upset anymore."
Pulling back, you rest your butt against his desk. You stare at him, studying him carefully. Ever since that kiss you shared, you've desperately wanted to do it again.
Reaching out he silently mess with the hem of your baggy shirt. "I like your pajamas."
Blush flushes your cheeks. "I should have put a robe on."
He shakes his head, standing quickly. "No, you shouldn't have." He takes a step towards you, caging you in against his desk. The tension in the room is thick. Leaning in he brushes his nose against yours.
"Cheol—"
"Yes, darling?" He pulls back slightly.
"Why haven't you kissed me again since the party?" That kiss you shared has been living in your mind on repeat.
His hand rests on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across your bottom lip. "I was afraid you didn't want me to kiss you again. I feel like I keep messing things up with you."
"I want you to kiss me again." You muster up every single ounce of confidence you have.
"My fiancée wants another kiss?" He raises his brow.
"Please."
He leans in slowly, leaving you desperate for what's to come. First touch of his lips is intoxicating. One hand rest on your hip, while the other holds your face. This kiss feels different, feels desperate and lust filled.
He pulls back and looks are you with lust blown eyes. Both your lips are swollen from the intense kiss.
"More." You whisper.
Without another word, he grabs your hips lifting your on to his desk. The marble is cold against the bare skin of butt and thighs. A shiver runs down your spine. Seungcheol stands between your spread legs, crashing his lips into yours. His lips are air and your oxygen deprived lungs. Wrapping your arms around his neck you hold him close. His hands run up and down your shirt cover sides.
He pulls back just a little to judge your reaction. "More." You repeat as you chase his lips.
Pushing his hand up under your baggy shirt, you feel his calloused hand run along your side. Pushing yourself towards him, you're desperate for more.
One of his hands moves to your butt, groping the flesh through your panties. Absentmindedly, a moan leaves your lips.
"You sound so pretty," he practically moans as his lips make a trail from your jaw down to the most sensitive part of your neck.
"Cheol." You moan his name like a sinful prayer.
He slips his hand under your panties. Grabbing your cheek, and pulling you towards the edge of the desk. It desperate moan leaves your lips, feeling Seungcheol hardened erection pressing against your panty covered core.
"Fuck me." You aren't quite sure where that came from, but you want him so badly it hurts.
"Baby, we shouldn't have our first time on my desk while I'm upset." He pulls back with wide eyes. He's trying his hardest to think logically.
"Okay." You pull back from him. The instant feeling of rejection is almost too hard to bare.
He leans in and presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss, the complete opposite of what you just experienced. "Hey, don't do that. I want you so fucking bad, but I don't want our first time to be like this. You deserve romance, and something sweet. This feels rushed and horny." You definitely weren't expecting him to say that.
"Horny?" You can't help but smile.
"Yes, this feels like we're a couple of horny teens."
"Okay."
"We should go to bed."
He helps you get off the desk. He doesn't move though, he stands right in front of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he leans down to give you another kiss.
Taking your hand, he leads you out of his office. You wish he would take you to his room, but it's clear he's trying to be a gentleman.
-
Falling asleep was nearly impossible after kissing Seungcheol again. You fell asleep dreaming of him.
By the time the morning light was peaking through your curtains, your eyes flutter open.
After last night, you've grown tired of playing cat and mouse with Seungcheol. You're tired of pretending, you want to be with him fully. You're sick of this just being pretend.
Crawling out of bed, you head to the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth. You're hoping you can catch Seungcheol before he goes to the gym for his morning work out.
Your sock covered feet pad across the hardwood floor. Walking up to Seungcheol room, you see the light peaking out from below the door.
Taking a deep breath you knock on the door. You hear his foot steps and the door opens. He knits his brows and stares at you, looking confused. He's dressing in his gym clothes, you must have caught him before he was heading out.
"We need to talk." You say.
"Sure."
"Do you want me?" You're being brave. If you want this game of cat and mouse to end, this is the only way.
"Yeah, my god I want you so bad."
Nothing else is said. Throwing yourself forward you wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips crash together for a searing kiss. Grabbing your hips, he walks you back into his room, your lips never parting as he kisses you, as if he needs you to breathe.
"You're killing me with your pajamas."
Pulling away he reaches for your shirt. He rips it off you quickly, leaving you standing there in just your panties and socks.
His eyes are lust blown. Crashing his lips back into yours, he kissed his way from your lips, down your neck. Biting your bottom lip, you try and hold back a moan.
His fingers hook into your panties, pulling them down your thighs, slowly. Mindlessly he kisses the top of your mound while looking up at you through his lashes.
"Cheol—" his name is nothing more then a desperate moan.
He pulls back with his lips slightly swollen. "Let me take care of you."
"Okay."
"Get on the bed, baby." There he goes calling you baby again. If you aren't already wet, you would be now.
He places a knee on the bed. His eyes are filled with lust as he stares at you. Leaning up on your elbows you watch your fiancé remove his shirt. He tosses it across the room, towards the pile of your clothes.
Sitting on his knees between your spread legs, his large hand gently rubs your thigh. "You're stunning, and seeing you spread out like this for me is driving me crazy."
"Cheol—"
"Seeing you last night in nothing but your panties and that shirt, practically drove me insane. It took everything in me not to give in, and fuck you, just like you asked." His words leave you even more turned on.
"Seungcheol—"
"Yes, darling?" He gives you a wicked grin.
"Please touch me." You've never been one to beg, but right now you'll do anything to be with him.
He moves so he's hovering over you. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer to you. He pulls back with the same grin.
"I want to taste you."
Silently, you nod, desperate for more.
He leaves a wet trail of kisses from your jaw down. He drags his tongue between the valley of your breast. He takes his time groping each of your breast. While one hand plays with one breast, the other sucks and toys with your nipple, earning a whining moan from you.
Closing your eyes you toss your head back. "Cheol—"
"Such an impatient girl." He teases.
He goes back to dragging his tongue down the valley of your breast. He spots at the top of your mound.
He moves so he's laying on his stomach with needy core in front of him. You look down at him, and find him staring at you with his lust filled eyes.
"You're already so wet." He drags his fingers through your wet folds. "Did you get wet just from making out?" He takes his finger into his mouth, tasting your slick. "You taste just as sweet as I thought you would."
He takes his time kissing the inside of your thigh couple times, helping to relax you. "Baby, I want you taste you."
He dives into your pussy, like a man starved. He takes his time sucking on your clit while he toys with your entrance.
One of his fingers slide into you with ease. His eyes never leave yours as he toys with you. Then licks fat strips across your clit. He adds another finger, helping to stretch you out. You haven't seen him fully naked, but you know that he's massive. Just based on his built, and how he looks walking around in sweatpants. You know he's packing.
Without thing you tangle your fingers in his dark hair. Pushing your hips up, you desperately try to to bring yourself closer to that edge.
"Baby, you're so needy." He laughs pulling his lips away from your core. He never stops thrusting his finger in and out of you. "I know you can come. Be a good girl and come for me."
Breathlessly, you nod. Sinking into the overly expensive cotton sheets, your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your fingers tug in his hair for a moment before all the muscles in your body relax. Your walls flutter around his fingers, as he massages your gummy walls helping you ride out your high.
He pulls back and slips his wet fingers back into his mouth.
"Darling, how do you like it?" You definitely weren't expecting him to ask that. You don't think you've ever had a man ask you that before.
"I don't know."
He cocks his head to the side. "Baby, what do you mean you don't know?"
"I just want you, and I'll take anything you'll give me." You hold your hand out towards him.
"Grab a pillow, and put it under your hips." Without thinking you follow his instruction. He hops off the bed and goes over to the nightstand. Pulling out a box of unopened condoms, and a bottle of lube.
Your eyes watch him carefully as he strips away his clothes. It's a mouth watering sight, watching his massive erection smack against his stomach.
He grabs the box and before he can even open it, you mutter out his name.
"Yeah?"
"We can go bare. I'm on birth control and I'm clean."
He tilts his and asks. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Picking up the bottle of lube, he clicks it open and pours some across his length. He slowly pumps it with his eyes trained on you.
Crawling back onto the bed, he picks the lube back up. "This might be a little cold." Slowly, he pour the cool liquid onto your needy core. He takes his time massaging your opening with the lube.
"I'm big, so this might hurt." By the looks of his massive cock, you feel like that's an understatement.
He moves so he's sitting on his knees between your spread legs. He takes his length in his hand, he run the rosy tip through your folds a few times. Intentionally making sure he bumps your sensitive clit.
"I'll go slow, and if you get uncomfortable we can stop." He insane if he thinks you'll stop him. You aren't sure you have ever wanted a man more then you want him. Even if sex with him is a little painful, you'll take anything he can possibly give you.
The first inch is quite uncomfortable. The way you gasped silently is enough to make his brain short circuit. He watches you carefully, making sure you aren't in too much pain.
You reach for his hand. You want to touch him desperately. He moves his body so he's closer to you as he slowly slides in inch by inch. He doesn't move for a moment, he stay still, filling you to the brim.
Leaning down his rest his nose against yours. "You feel so good." He whispers.
"You're really big," you let out the softest laugh.
"You're just really tight." He pushes himself back a little. He's resting on his elbow, practically plastered against you.
"I might be tight, but anyone would be when you have a massive cock."
He can't help but smile at your statement. You don't understand how cute he thinks you are. He reaches out, brushing your hair away from your face.
"You can move." He leans down, pressing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss.
Your first time together isn't some rough passion filled night. Seungcheol wants your first time together to be passionate, but romantic. He keeps a slowly and deep pace. With pull of his hips, he leaves just the tip inside of you. Driving his hips back in at a firm pace, he practically kisses your cervix with his length.
Everything about your fiancé is massive and the feeling of him covering you as he slowly fucks you is absolutely intoxicating.
Lifting your leg you rest your foot on his back. He sets a slow but deep pace. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to you.
"You feel so good." You moan.
"You were made for me." He moans against your neck. "You're such a good girl for me."
You stay like this forever with him. With each thrust he touches that spot deep inside you, that has you seeing stars.
Closing your eyes you tilt your head back. All the nerves in your body feel alive. Your second orgasm is rapidly approaching. Biting your bottom lip, you try to stay quiet.
"I wanna hear you." He moans.
"Fuck—" All logical words have left your brain.
One of your hands grip the sheets below you. He picks up his pace, your grip on his cock, letting him know you're close.
"Baby just let go." His sweet sinful words push you over the edge. For a moment it feels as if every muscle in your body is tense. White hot wave washes over you like you've never quite experienced before. Suddenly you feel more relax than you ever have. Your walls flutter around his lenght like a heartbeat.
He never stops thrusting, he helps you ride out your high. He pulls back, earning a whimper from you. He pulls out of you and sits in his knees his still hard cock, is covered in your release.
"Come here, baby."
Using every ounce of strength you have, you crawl to him. While he's sitting on his knees, you straddle his thighs. Reaching between you, you line yourself up with he length. Ever so slowly you sink back down.
He lets you set the pace. Instead of bouncing up and down, you rolls your hips into his. His lips are all over your throat, definitely leaving marks in his wake.
You can tell he's getting close by the moans falling from his lips. His hands grip your hips, helping to guide you up and down his length at a quicker pace.
Your third orgasm comes out of nowhere. Throwing your head back you moan his name. Leaning forward your rest your head on his shoulder.
Your walls contracting around him, push him over the edge. He holds you flush against his thighs, as he paints your walls with his milky release.
Pulling your head back you look at him with a lazy smile.
Slowly, you pull yourself off him and lay down on the bed. He hops off and heads to the bathroom. The site of his naked butt jogging away is something you're never forget.
He comes back holding a warm wash cloth. He takes his time gently cleaning up the mess he's made of you.
After disposing of the towel he crawls into bed with you. Laying on your side you're staring at him. He's lying next to you laying on his side. Reaching out he grabs your hand.
"I love you." He says those three words you have been dying to hear.
"I love you too." Even if you were too scared to admit it, you've been in love with him for a while. "I don't want this to be fake anymore."
"It hasn't been fake for a while. In my eyes, you've been mine." He says with the sweetest smile.
"You're mine too."
He closes the distance and kisses you. Pulling back he says "We can make this real. Screw dating, I want to actually marry you."
"I would like that, but maybe we should properly date and stuff."
He lets out a little laugh. "We can do that. But I'm still calling you my fiancée."
"Alright. We're officially engaged."
If you would've known going on that date and pretending to be Angel would lead you here, you would have never tried to get out of going on that date with Seungcheol. You never expected to date him, let alone fall in love with him and end up engaged for real.
"I love you, baby." He leans in for another kiss.
"I love you too."
an: this might get a part 2 for their wedding or it might make a sequel with Angel and Soonyoung that has these two love birds wedding. If anyone would be interested in reading that pls let me know.
Pairing: video game developer!jeon wonwoo x animator f!reader
Summary: jeon wonwoo has been insufferable since the day you started at Carat Entertainment. between petty arguments and snide remarks to each other, he quickly became public enemy number one in your eyes. when you’re thrown together on a high-priority project for a new video game, late work nights turn into long conversations and you begin to forget why you even hated him in the first place.
WC: 6.2k
CW: CHAPTER SPECIFIC - some instagram dm's, kissing/making out, very brief mention of sex if you squint, swearing, verkwan as besties, ummm and the angst begins in this chapter. sorry in advance:) i think that should be everything…also s/o to my best friend @aelin-tiny for proof reading and helping me edit this one cause i was STRUGGLING
Series Masterlist - Next Part
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dividers by @uzmacchiato
Shortly after waking up, you receive word that Carat is closed due to a blizzard. There’s a power outage on that side of town, and you’re so relieved to have the day off. However, as if he could sense you were at peace, you get an Instagram DM from Wonwoo approximately an hour later. You’re in the middle of settling on your couch with Dubu and a cup of hot chocolate when your phone buzzes, with the notification flashing across the lock screen:
“Ugh,” you groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table. Despite the annoyance of having to work today, something about his last message simmers and boils inside of you.
Drive carefully.
Obviously, he’s just being polite. You’re not even sure why it affects you as much as it does. Dragging a hand down your face, you decide that dwelling on it will only drive you crazy. Probably as crazy as Wonwoo drives you, which is exactly what you need to remind yourself. It’s Jeon Wonwoo. The past week has probably just been him being cordial for the project. Walking you to your car, taking you to dinner, opening up to you about his personal life…
Yeah. Cordial. Right?
Okay, maybe you aren’t sure anymore.
“Dubu.” You suddenly announce, which causes your cat to jump slightly at the noise. She looks up at you, eyes wide. “If someone who has always been mean to you seems to change overnight, would that be suspicious?”
She blinks once.
“I mean,” you shift your weight, and she crawls onto your lap, “we used to argue every day. Well, you know that. I told you. Anyway, now he’s like…vulnerable. And he took me to dinner last night. And paid. Should I be weirded out?”
You take a sip of your hot cocoa, then glance out of your living room window. It’s a winter wonderland outside–like someone picked up the Earth and shook it as if it were a snow globe. The wind is crazy, with flakes flurrying everywhere. Your porch is covered in at least a few inches, and you’re surprised by how much has accumulated since you got home last night.
The nerves inside begin to slowly unravel as the reality hits you that you’re going to Wonwoo’s house later. Close proximity with public enemy number one. What if he tries to kill you? Or, even worse, what if he…touches you again? Your face flushes immediately, and you feel like a high schooler all over again. There’s absolutely no way you’re letting someone like Jeon Wonwoo rile you up like this, and you quickly decide you need someone to talk some sense into you.
Grabbing your phone again, you dial the two people you know you can always rely on. Seungkwan picks up almost immediately, with Hansol following suit a few seconds after.
“Why on God’s good earth are you awake so early on your day off?” Seungkwan groans. “I was sleeping.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Hansol deadpans. “He was sending me TikToks.”
“I need both of you to lock in for ten minutes.” You state a little too loudly. Seungkwan scoffs. “I am going insane, I think, and I need to debrief some recent Wonwoo Moments with you both.”
Hansol hesitates before saying, “What happened?”
So, you unload everything. You tell them about staying late in the breakroom, Wonwoo taking you out to dinner instead of working, and now him inviting you over for dinner and work. They listen quietly and intently, like they’re absorbing all the information before speaking. Per usual, Seungkwan is the first to chime in.
“Okay, so,” you can hear him sit up in bed as he talks, “I think your theory that him being nice was a one-off is now null and void.”
“But I don’t think there’s any deeper meaning, right?” You counter. “Like, this has to just be because of the project. Someone’s seven years of hatred isn’t just erased in a week. Right?”
Hansol has been oddly quiet. You almost forget he’s on the call until he comments, “Would it be the worst thing in the world if that did happen, though?”
“Yes.” You reply. “Hansol, do you forget the fact that he made me cry the other day?”
He sighs. “I didn’t forget.” He clarifies. “I’m just saying that Wonwoo is kind of odd. I mean, he’s never been able to process or handle his feelings effectively. He’s kind of an ecological disturbance because of it.”
“Kind of?” You snort. “He’s always a disturbance, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Look, I’m not diminishing the fact that he’s made you cry.” Hansol continues. “Or any of the times he’s been rude to you. But I do know Wonwoo. And I do know that sometimes he doesn’t even recognize his own feelings until much later.”
The three of you fall silent as Hansol’s words settle between you. Your mouth feels dry as it begins to process, and you’re almost scared to hear what his response is to your next question.
“What are you insinuating?” You ask quietly.
When he doesn’t reply right away, you ask again, “Hansol, what do you mean by that?”
“I’m just saying that maybe this project made him realize he doesn’t fully hate you.” He finally answers. “I’m not saying it’s anything beyond tolerating, but I just don’t think there’s any hate there anymore. You know?”
“But, buying her dinner?” Seungkwan cuts in. “That feels like more than just tolerating.”
Hansol groans. “Look, I know Wonwoo well, but I’m not an expert on him.”
That makes you snicker as you take another sip of your hot cocoa. When you lower the cup again, you comment, “You mean your degree isn’t in Wonwoo-ology?”
“No, I only minored in it.” Hansol fires back. The three of you laugh, and things feel a little lighter.
Still, in the back of your mind, all you can think about is Hansol’s question: Would it be the worst thing in the world if Wonwoo’s feelings towards you changed? Alternatively, would it be the worst thing in the world if your feelings towards Wonwoo have changed?
You suppose there’s only one way to find out.
You haven’t been able to bring your hand up to ring Wonwoo’s doorbell yet. Instead, you’ve been standing in the horrendous storm outside, staring at his front door like this is all some crazy dream. It’s so unbelievably cold outside, but you’re too scared to go inside. From where you are, however, you can smell something cooking through the window. Something that smells warm and perfect for today’s weather.
Finally, as you muster the courage to knock, the door flies open. Wonwoo stands across from you, looking like he hasn’t bothered getting ready all day–or, at least changing clothes. His black sweats sit low on his hips. He’s wearing a dark, oversized hoodie with them, and his hair is a bit damp like he maybe showered before you arrived. His glasses are in their usual spot, low on the bridge of his nose. Your heart does a weird flip at the sight of him looking so…normal? Comfortable?
“Are you planning on freezing to death, Picasso?” He asks flatly. “I know you’ve been standing here for a while. I can see you from my kitchen window.” He gestures to the right, where sure enough, there’s a window with the perfect view of the front porch.
You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Freezing to death would be better than working on my day off.”
“Good thing it’s Friday,” Wonwoo responds. “You’ve got the whole weekend to slack off.” He steps to the side, and you can feel the warm air from where you stand. He gestures behind him. “Now, are you coming in?”
“Yeah.” You mutter before trudging through the door. Wonwoo closes it again, and you take a moment to look around his house.
It’s got a lot more personality than you were expecting from him. Most of the furniture is monochrome, but he’s got a few action figures on display, as well as a few framed posters for different anime or video games. In his living room, he’s got some music playing on the TV. In the kitchen to your right, you see something cooking, which you can only assume is the source of the smell outside.
“Can I take your jacket for you?”
Your attention snaps back to Wonwoo, who is holding out his hand. You blink a few times before dropping your bag by your feet and shrugging off your bulky winter coat. You watch as he hangs it up, then cards a hand through his hair.
“Uh, how were the roads?” He asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Did you eat anything yet?”
“Roads were pretty shitty.” You reply. “And no, not yet. I kind of lost track of time.”
Wonwoo nods, then walks past you into the kitchen. He grabs a few bowls, then glances over to you. “I made kimchi jjigae. Do you want some?”
He made food for you both? “Oh,” you manage. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you–”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He interjects. “I made extra. I don’t need it, so I figured I’d give it to you.”
Yup. There’s the Wonwoo you know and (don’t) love.
“Right.” You roll your eyes before sliding off your boots and making your way over to him. He dishes up the stew, then passes you your serving. “Thanks.”
He just shrugs as he begins eating his. Things are awkwardly quiet for a moment until he clears his throat. “We can sit in the living room, too. I have my laptop and work pulled up already.”
“I mean, it’s your house.” You lightly tease. “You’re the host. I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”
Wonwoo scoffs, but doesn’t seem annoyed in any capacity. You actually wonder for a moment if he’s smiling, but he turns away too quickly for you to confirm. When he starts walking, you hurry to follow behind him.
The two of you sit on opposite ends of his couch when you realize you left your bag by the door. You gently set your stew down, then walk back over to where you dropped it when you arrived. When you turn around to go back to the couch, Wonwoo is staring at you.
“Yes?” You frown, feeling your heart flutter again.
“Nothing.” He pauses. “It’s just weird that you’re over.”
“Hm,” you hum as you sit down beside him. “Well, this was your idea.”
“I know,” Wonwoo states. “Doesn’t make it any less weird, I guess. I haven’t had anyone over in a few months, now. And the fact that it’s you of all people…” He trails off, but glances at you to gauge your reaction. There’s no bite to his tone, so you don’t take the comment to heart.
You wonder if he’s referring to his ex, but you decide not to push or be too nosy–despite how much you really want to be. So, you resort to your usual banter with him instead.
“Yeah, I can tell.” You smirk as you grab your tablet. “Not the best host, in my opinion.”
Wonwoo presses his brows together. “You can’t critique my hosting; you wanted to be here instead of your place.”
“I’m just giving you shit.” You laugh as you turn the tablet on.
While it boots up, you grab your bowl again and begin eating. You’re surprised at how good of a cook Wonwoo is, and you have to bite back any sort of compliment that you consider giving him. But, much against your will, this kimichi jjigae is delicious. Like, ridiculously and unfairly good. It kind of makes you mad that it’s good, mostly because you don’t really like the idea of Wonwoo being good at anything besides coding.
“Does it taste okay?” Wonwoo asks as you practically inhale the stew. Your eyes flick over to him for a moment, where it looks like he’s trying to not laugh.
You lower the bowl, then set it back on the table. Clearing your throat, you mutter, “It’s fine.”
“Fine?” A small laugh escapes his mouth as he gestures to your (almost) empty bowl. “Picasso, the whole thing is pretty much gone.”
You press your tongue to your cheek. “I’m not going to give you a compliment.” You state, picking up your tablet. “It’s only going to feed your ego. Remember our talk about being more humble? Besides, you never compliment me.”
“So, what, you want a compliment for a compliment, now?” He scoffs.
“Maybe I do.”
“Fine.” He groans. “I guess you–” He quickly stops, like he was trying to prevent himself from saying his initial train of thought. Drawing in a deep breath, he finishes with, “You’re a very good artist.”
Your eyes widen. “Wow, I’m very good?”
“Now can you admit that I’m a good cook?” He asks, clearly trying to steer your attention away from his compliment.
You click your tongue, flicking your gaze back to your tablet. You boot up your project, then try to suppress your own smile as you reply, “You’re a great cook. The jjigae was really good.”
The silence that follows is bordering on embarrassing, as it washes over you both that you’re getting along. And it’s getting easier to get along.
Maybe Hansol was right: maybe Wonwoo’s feelings did change over the course of a week. Maybe yours did, too.
A couple of hours passed working in silence, but the music Wonwoo had on was nice. It was soft jazz of some kind. You didn’t recognize any of the artists, but it weirdly helped you maintain focus fairly well. When the clock hits eight, you stretch your arms over your head as a yawn escapes from your mouth. Wonwoo glances over at you and leans back against his couch.
“Should we call it a night?” He asks.
“Probably.” You sigh. “But I think we got some decent work done, yeah?”
He nods. “I think so.” He agrees. “What do you think the storm looks like?”
God, you’d truthfully forgotten all about the blizzard. You were praying that things cleared up, but when you walk over to the door to peek outside, your hopes are very quickly diminished. Because it did, in fact, get a lot worse. Your car is completely iced over, with a few inches of snow piled on top. Your shoulders drop, and you can hear Wonwoo walking up behind you.
“Shit.” He mutters. “Are you going to be able to drive home?”
“I have to.” You glance over your shoulder at him, where he stands a little too close for comfort. You can feel his body heat against your back, and your stomach flips. Shaking your head, you quickly add, “I have to get home somehow, Wonwoo. I mean, I can’t just stay here.”
His hair falls in his eyes a little, and you really hate how he’s looking at you. His expression is soft, and you hate it. You hate how he’s making you feel, and you wish there was a way to turn it off in your brain. You can feel yourself spiraling like you did earlier that morning to Seungkwan and Vernon, so you quickly begin to remind yourself, ‘This is Jeon Wonwoo. The same man who makes your life a living hell. The same man who made you cry. The same man who has done nothing but treat you like shit for the past seven years.’
“Who says you can’t?” He asks. “I mean, obviously it’s not ideal, but you shouldn’t drive in this. My couch can pull out into a bed–”
“Wonwoo.” You close the door as you cut him off, feeling your heart rate quicken. “I can’t stay here. That’s crazy. I mean, staying here? With you? At your house?”
He blinks a few times, then frowns. “I’m failing to see what is so crazy about that concept.” He admits. “It’s bad weather. It’s unsafe to drive. I think it makes sense to stay put until the roads clear in the morning.”
He’s right, and you hate that he is. You hate everything about how this evening is playing out, and you think you might be sick.
“Look, ah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “How can I make this more comfortable for you?”
“Um.” You press your lips into a thin line as you look at your surroundings.
If you have to stay here, you suppose some blankets would be nice. You chew on your bottom lip, not really wanting to look towards Wonwoo right now. There have been too many unwanted emotions bubbling up tonight, and having to stay at his house, now, just seems to unravel you even more.
“Just,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I guess just blankets and pillows are fine.”
“Well, obviously,” Wonwoo remarks. “I’m not going to make you sleep without those. Do you want, like, some sweats? Or something more comfortable than what you’re already wearing?”
Looking down, you begin to regret wearing jeans. Though, in your defense, you didn’t think you’d have to end up staying overnight here.
“Yeah.” You glance over to him. His arms are folded across his chest as he watches you. His expression is deadpan, but his eyes are softer. Like he feels bad for the current situation. “Yeah, some sweats would be great, actually. Thank you.”
Wonwoo just nods, short and curtly, before wandering down the hallway behind him. After a few seconds, he reappears with some folded-up sweats and a t-shirt. He passes them to you, and you hesitate to accept them. Because in your mind, accepting them means this nightmare is real, and you’re not sure you want that.
“The bathroom is down that hall.” He explains. “It’s the second door to the left. If you want to shower, there are extra towels under the sink. I’m going to get some blankets and a pillow for you.”
You nod, then solemnly pad down the hallway. When you reach the bathroom door, you stop and glance back at where Wonwoo is. He’s pushing his coffee table out of the way to pull the couch out into a bed.
“Hey Wonwoo?” You call down to him. He looks over his shoulder towards you, and you give him a reluctant smile. “Thanks.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, and he turns his attention back to the couch. “Don’t mention it.”
You’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever. Wonwoo went to sleep around thirty minutes ago. He left the music playing, at your request. You thought the noise would help calm your nerves, but it does very little to settle the swarm of emotions that are going through your head right now. Ever since Hansol put the idea out there that it’s entirely possible Wonwoo’s feelings towards you changed, you’ve been so…worked up, for lack of better terms.
Like, Wonwoo tolerating you upsets the workplace ecosystem. You’ve joked with Seungkwan about things being peaceful if Wonwoo wasn’t there, and, sure, it’d be nice to not argue every day. But going from screaming at each other a week ago to wearing his clothes and staying at his house and getting dinner with him and…
You roll onto your side and pull your legs up to your chest. Maybe Hansol was right–maybe tolerating Wonwoo isn’t the worst thing in the world. There’s definitely a lot worse that’s out there. For example: murder. Or armed robbery. Wonwoo is absolutely not as bad as those things. And, if anything, you’ve learned in the last week that his cold-blooded psychopathic heart has feelings. Which, in your book, is a redeeming factor. So there: automatically not nearly as bad as murder or armed robbery.
You hear the door handle to Wonwoo’s bedroom turn, and your breath catches in your throat. You lift your head to see him wander out, looking as awake as you felt. His gaze meets yours, and he stops in his tracks. His hair is messy like he tried to sleep, but failed miserably.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asks, leaning against the entryway of the living room.
You shake your head. “No. I think I miss my cat.”
“Well,” Wonwoo laughs lightly, “I can’t help with that. Sorry.”
“Damn.” You click your tongue, then push yourself to sit up. “I guess it’s fine, then. Do you, um, want to sit?” You gesture to the other side of the futon for him. He draws in a deep breath, and, much to your surprise, accepts the invitation.
You watch as he trudges over, then collapses on the other side. He removes his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes, then places them back on his face. Bringing his arms behind his head, he sighs.
“You know,” he starts, “Hansol has a lot of great things to say about you.”
You snort, then lie back with him. The two of you stare at the ceiling together, now, as the sound of his jazz music fills the space between you.
“I hope he would.” You comment. “He is my best friend.”
“I just mean, like,” Wonwoo rolls his head so he’s looking at you, “he’s always had great things to say. I really didn’t want to believe any of them for a while.”
You turn your head to meet his gaze. “Mm,” you hum, “like what?”
“Well,” he says, “that you’re understanding. He’s mentioned that you’re nice, too, but the verdict is still out on that one.”
You roll your eyes. “Can the verdict hurry up?” You joke. “My verdict is already back on you.”
Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, yeah?” He taunts. “What’s that, then?”
You grin, then look up at the ceiling again. “You’re not as bad as murder. Or armed robbery.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He scoffs. “Can you pass that on to my ex? She seems to think otherwise.”
The silence that follows his sentence is uncomfortable, and you can tell that it slipped out before he could even process the thought. You prop yourself up on your elbow, then look down at him.
“You don’t have to answer this,” you begin slowly, “but what happened? With your ex, I mean. If it’s bad enough that you considered running off to the States, then that seems…concerning.”
Wonwoo stares up at you, and you can tell from his expression alone that he’s conflicted about whether he wants to share that much with you or not. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there’s a slight frown that teases his lips.
“Her name is Haeun.” He explains. “We met in college. She just, ah, is a really degrading person. Incredibly narcissistic. She thinks I somehow owe her thanks for my entire life because she was the one who encouraged me to pursue computer engineering and who helped me get the job at Carat. I guess I just woke up one day and decided that after eleven years I had enough of it.”
Your eyes widen. “Eleven years? Shit, Wonwoo.”
“That’s not taking into consideration that we’ve been off and on for a long time.” He quickly clarifies. “It was just constant breaking up and getting back together because she’d make me feel guilty. I still have her shit here because she won’t come pick it up. She thinks I’ll come back to her.”
He gestures behind you. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, there are a few boxes and bags that are all labeled: HAEUN
“Well,” you look back down at him. “Do you think you’ll go back?”
“No.” He answers, and you believe him. His tone is firm and sure.
You hum. “Do you want me to dump it at her place for you?” You offer lightly, slightly teasing him. “She doesn’t know me, so she can’t–”
“I’m flattered, Picasso, but I’m not subjecting you to her behavior,” Wonwoo interjects sternly. “I can take it, but I don’t want her to berate you in the same way she does to me.”
You falter for a moment, surprised at how…protective that sounded. When you feel your cheeks warm, you feel ridiculous for blushing at something so meaningless. His living room suddenly feels quite warm, and your head feels a bit light.
“Well,” you force a nervous laugh, “that’s very chivalrous.”
“I’d hardly call that chivalry,” Wonwoo mutters. “It’s just the right thing to do.”
“I’d be careful if I were you,” you scold, but there’s no bite to it. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll begin to think you don’t hate me anymore.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
The smile on your face disappears instantly. Holy shit. Wonwoo just admitted to not hating you anymore. That was an admission, right? He said maybe. So it’s not a full confession, but–
“Picasso.” Wonwoo sits up, waving a hand in front of your face. “Don’t get lost on me, now. And don’t let that get to your head either. Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mean I like you.”
He smirks, so you know it’s a joke. It doesn’t fully register or land with you, though, because what are you even supposed to do with this information?
You quickly push Wonwoo’s hand away. “Please,” you scoff, “I’d never let that get to my head. Just because you tolerate me doesn’t mean I’m going to forget our roots.”
“Our roots?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Yeah.” You lie back down and look up at him. “You know, you ignoring me or making me cry.”
Wonwoo frowns. “When did I make you cry?”
His voice is so soft now that part of you feels guilty for bringing it up. You pull your blanket up to your face in a poor attempt to shy away from the question, but then Wonwoo’s hand stops yours.
“Tell me, please.” He says, then repeats, “When did I make you cry?”
“It’s not even a big deal,” you lie, pushing his hand off of yours. “It was earlier this week. When your ex kept calling you. You apologized, anyway.”
“But clearly it’s still bothering you,” Wonwoo gently argues. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s just–” you groan. “It’s confusing, you know? Like, you’re mean to me ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, but then when it’s like this,” you gesture between the two of you, “it’s nice. I don’t want to hate you, Wonwoo, but I can’t look past those moments, either.”
Wonwoo swallows, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs briefly as he does so. “Well, can I do anything to remedy it?”
“You’re that keen on making things better?” You tease. Wonwoo’s jaw tightens while he stares down at you. You continue, “If you’re that serious about it, then you can start by treating me the same way at work that you do when we’re alone.”
“Okay.” He replies quickly.
You blink. “That’s all it’s going to take?”
Wonwoo shrugs. “Do you want me to argue?” He smirks. “That might go against what you just told me not to do.”
“Okay, smartass.” You roll your eyes. “I’m just surprised you’re so willing to, I don’t know, actually get along.”
Wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just stares at you. The prolonged eye contact makes you squirm as you try to turn your attention to anything and everything else but him. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped since lying down to sleep, and now they’re on a rampage. When he draws in a deep breath, you allow yourself to look back up at him.
“I guess–” he pauses. “I don’t know. You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”
The corners of your mouth twitch. “Yeah.” You offer a timid smile. “You’re not too bad yourself, geeksquad.”
The air suddenly shifts, and it’s clear that Wonwoo feels it this time, too. His breathing turns a bit shallow when he presses his palm into the futon beside your head. You begin to get deja vu from the night he brushed away the eyelash from your face, only this time, a tiny part of you hopes he’s going to kiss you. You’ll never let Seungkwan know you thought that, though. At least not until the kiss actually happens. If it happens. Which you’re sure it is, because the next thing you know, Wonwoo begins to lower his body over yours.
“Hey, Picasso?” He suddenly whispers, his voice low. “You still drive me crazy.”
You swallow. “I know.” You reply softly. “You drive me crazy, too.”
Wonwoo laughs a little breathlessly before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours. At first, neither of you really moves. The initial kiss is quick, and Wonwoo pulls away just barely to look down at you as if to make sure that was okay. You meet his gaze and barely give him a nod before he chases your lips again and kisses you with much more intent.
You gasp a little at his sudden surge of confidence, and grab hold of the collar on his hoodie. He kisses slowly, like he’s trying to move cautiously. Like he’s giving you the space to stop it at any time. His lips are soft, and you really hate how much you enjoy the feeling of them against yours. Wonwoo fully lowers his body onto you, wrapping his free arm around your waist. His glasses bump against your face a little, prompting you to giggle.
“Are you laughing?” Wonwoo mutters against your lips. He pulls away, and you reach up to brush the hair out of his face.
“Your glasses.” You explain. “They just keep hitting my forehead and cheeks.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo’s face flushes slightly.
“Can you even see without them?” You ask as he peels them off his face and tosses them aside.
“Not really.” He admits with a laugh. “My vision is really bad.”
You hum, tugging on his hoodie to pull him closer. “Let me help, then.”
You kiss him first this time, which prompts a moan from him. You feel his body relax against yours as his hand moves from your waist to the back of your head. He tilts it slightly to deepen the kiss, and you very quickly decide that you no longer hate the fact that he’s a good kisser. Actually, you really like it and would really like to do this all night. You’re addicted to how soft but full of passion each kiss is, like he’s driving but willing to give over the control at any second.
Wonwoo’s tongue slides across your bottom lip before pressing gently against yours. A soft sound bubbles from you. You’re not really sure what it is, seeing as you’re so drunk on the taste of him right now. You feel a little delirious and overwhelmed, but most importantly, perfectly content.
When he pulls away, your heart breaks a little bit. You open your eyes to find him putting his glasses back on.
“As much as I would love to continue that,” he whispers, “I think we should try to get some sleep.”
“What if I’m not tired?” You quip. Your plan doesn’t work, though, as Wonwoo rolls his eyes.
“Even if you’re not,” he gives you another quick kiss, “I don’t have protection. I wasn’t exactly planning on, well, that tonight.”
You dramatically groan. “Well, can you at least stay out here, then?” You ask. “You can’t just kiss someone and leave them alone like that.”
Wonwoo’s expression twists. “Don’t people kind of do that all the time?”
“That’s not the point.” You frown.
Wonwoo sits up and gently pulls you with him. “I won’t stay here,” he says. “This futon kind of sucks. But you can come sleep in my room with me.”
Your heart flutters. When reality comes crashing down, your eyes widen. “Wonwoo.” You gasp. “We kissed. Like, us. World’s biggest enemies.”
“Okay, well,” Wonwoo stands and continues to pull you along, “I don’t think that term is exactly applicable anymore, Picasso. I don’t make out with my enemies.”
“Okay,” you say as you trail behind him to his room, “so what are we now, then?”
Wonwoo closes the door behind you, then thinks. After a brief pause, he replies, “I don’t really know. But can we figure it out?”
Taking a step closer to him, you grin. “I think I can work with that.”
When you wake up the next day, Wonwoo isn’t beside you. Blinking a few times, you allow your eyes to adjust to the sunlight that floods through his curtains, when the sudden smell of bacon fills the air around you.
When you finally roll out of bed, you trudge back towards the kitchen. Wonwoo is hunched over the stove, still in his hoodie and sweats from last night. His hair is messy from sleep, however, and the sight alone makes you grin. It’s still weird coming to terms with the fact that Wonwoo is making you smile. All you’ve ever done is be angry with him, and now you’ve spent the night at his house, you kissed him, and…
Oh Jesus Christ you kissed him.
You swallow, feeling the blush creep up on your face, as you replay last night over again in your head. God, the way his lips felt–you’d give anything to feel them again. But is that territory you’re officially in? Can you just…kiss him whenever now? It’s not like you’ve never been in a relationship before or, hell, even just slept around with some people. But this thing that developed last night is so unclear.
“Are you just going to stand and stare at me, or would you like to eat?” Wonwoo suddenly announces, pulling you from your thoughts. He glances over his shoulder at you. “I made bacon and eggs. I didn’t have anything else, considering I wasn’t expecting a sleepover of any kind.”
“That’s fine.” You quickly reply, making your way over to him. “Thank you for breakfast. You were up early.”
Wonwoo shrugs, then turns his attention back to the food. “Didn’t sleep well,” he explains. “I guess I got used to not having someone sleeping next to me.”
“Oh, I’m–”
“Don’t apologize, Picasso.” He cuts in. “I don’t need sympathy.”
His tone is short today, seemingly back to what it was before–to the Wonwoo you knew before. You clear your throat, trying to scramble your thoughts into something cohesive. Maybe he’s just grumpy from the lack of sleep?
“Um, are you okay?” You ask a bit pathetically.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just–” you pause “--I don’t know. I mean, last night you weren’t like this. I thought maybe we were kind of past this.”
You watch as he takes the pan off the stove, and moves through the kitchen to plate the food for both of you. He doesn’t bother looking your way, or even smiling in the slightest. He’s just…Wonwoo. Deadpan. Emotionless. It makes you sick to your stomach.
Did he just play you?
“It was late last night.” He answers simply. “I think we both got carried away, don’t you?”
Then, he finally looks over to you. His eyes are red behind the lens of his glasses, and you can’t tell if it’s from crying or lack of sleep. But your heart hurts to see the exhaustion on his face. You dare a step closer, but he pulls back, so you stop.
“Wonwoo,” you start softly, “why are you doing this?”
“Listen,” he sighs, setting the now empty pan into his sink, “I think maybe for the remainder of this project we should just keep contact at a minimum. I-I’ll trust that you’ll do your work. I won’t make you work on your days off anymore, and–”
“Hey,” you interject, “that’s not fair. You don’t just get to kiss me, let me sleep in your bed, and then push me away like that. Why are you doing that?”
“I just think it’s for the best.” He replies.
“For who?”
That, he doesn’t have an answer for. Your gaze flicks between the food on the plates and his face. But you aren’t hungry anymore. You feel your jaw tighten, as a lump begins to form in your throat. After a few moments pass with neither of you speaking, you force yourself to draw in a shaky breath.
“You know, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” You offer a weak smile. “Yeah, I should go home to my cat. Dubu is probably hungry, and I need to clean her litter box–”
“Wait–”
“No.” You turn, and walk over to the couch where your things are still piled. You quickly pack everything into your bag again, not being able to look back over at him. “It’s fine, Wonwoo. I should’ve figured that it didn’t mean anything. I mean, that would go against everything we’ve built on for the last seven years.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, and turn to face him. “Why bother trying to change?”
You don’t give him the chance to say anything as you brush past him, and begin to put your shoes on. When you grab your jacket off the hanger by the door, you hear him call your name. Your hand hesitates on the door before you pull it open, and walk out to your car.
Title :: Future nostalgia
Classification :: Time Travel AU • Domestic Fluff
Summary :: A little boy arrives at Hogwarts claiming you and Professor Jeon Wonwoo are his parents, turning your lives upside down.
Word Count :: 11k words
series masterlist ✦ svt masterlist
Genre: Hogwarts AU • Domestic Fluff • Time Travel • Parenthood
Trigger Warnings: Child in distress (temporary separation from parents) •Memory alteration/partial memory loss • Mention of pregnancy
A/N: Fic's a little cliche, but I wholeheartedly believe in Soft!Dad Jeon Wonwoo. Give me your kids wonu ;p what who said that huh
I actually have no idea how kids are...
The rain had been falling since the afternoon, turning the castle windows into rivers and made the corridors smell of wet stone. You had stayed later than usual in the greenhouses, repotting a stubborn batch of mandrakes for the second-years who would be arriving in a few weeks, and by the time you climbed back up to the staff quarters your boots were soaked through and your cardigan smelled like fertilizer.
You almost didn't hear it, a small sound, like a hiccup, half swallowed by the storm.
You stopped in the corridor outside the professors' wing, wand raised, and found a child tucked against the cold stone wall. He couldn't have been older than five or six, curled into himself with his knees drawn to his chest, dark unruly hair plastered to his forehead, his clothes damp at the shoulders and his cheeks pink from the cold. He was fast asleep despite all of it.
"Oh, dear."
You crouched beside him, carefully brushing the wet fringe away from his forehead. When he didn't stir, your first instinct was to get him warm.
Slipping your cardigan from your shoulders, you wrapped it around the tiny frame before gently lifting him into your arms. He was surprisingly light, his small pruned hands clutching at the fabric as he slept.
You hurried straight to Professor McGonagall's office.
She opened the door before you had even knocked twice. Her eyebrows lifted at the sight of the sleeping child bundled against you.
"I found him outside the professors' quarters," you explained. "He was freezing."
McGonagall's expression immediately hardened into business.
"Bring him inside."
A fire crackled in the grate as you settled the boy onto the sofa, rubbing gentle circles over his back in an attempt to warm him. McGonagall cast several warming charms over the room before turning to Filch, who had appeared in response to the commotion.
"Mr. Filch," she said briskly. "Gather available staff. Immediately."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
It didn't take long. Within a few minutes, half the staff room had gathered, which was really only about nine people. McGonagall stood at the head of the room in her tartan dressing gown, looking like she would very much like to be back in bed. Flitwick hovered by the fireplace. Hagrid took up an entire corner simply by existing.
You looked down at the boy again, and something about him nagged at you. The straight dark hair, the soft feline shape of his eyes, even the slight downturn of his mouth in sleep, all of it reminding you vaguely of someone you passed in the corridors without really seeing. Before you could chase the thought further, he stirred. His nose scrunched, his fists rubbed sleepily at his eyes, and he blinked up at the unfamiliar room.
"Sweetheart, are you o—"
You never finished the question. He launched himself at you, small arms winding around your neck with startling strength, nearly knocking you backward as he buried his face against your shoulder. You went rigid with shock, hands hovering uselessly over his back, before instinct took over and you held him.
A broken sob escaped him. "Mama..." he hiccupped, the word breaking beneath another sob. "I looked everywhere for you."
Within seconds he was crying in earnest, hot snotty tears soaking into your cardigan, his fingers clutching at the fabric as though letting go would make you disappear. You looked up helplessly at McGonagall, at Flitwick, at anyone who might explain this. Nobody could, and the words you meant to say, that 'there had been some mistake', died in your throat against the completeness of his devastation. You gathered him closer instead, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.
"Shh... it's alright," you murmured softly. "You're alright now."
When you pulled back to look at him, his cheeks were wet, his nose pink from crying and cold, and he couldn't have been older than five.
"What happened, sweetheart? Are you hurt?"
He only shook his head against your shoulder, one last shuddering sob escaping before his breathing evened into sniffles.
McGonagall stepped forward, her voice gentler than you had ever heard it. "Dear boy. What is your name?"
He loosened his grip enough to look at her, wiping his eyes on your cardigan sleeve. "I'm Woojin."
The room visibly relaxed. At least he was coherent.
"Woojin. That's a lovely name," you said.
"You named me, Mama," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, then added, generously, in case you needed the rest, "Appa told me that."
"Do you know where your parents are, Woojin?" McGonagall asked. She was the only one composed enough to keep making sense of things.
Woojin looked around, found you first, and pointed. "Mama." Then his gaze slid past everyone else to the office door, just as another professor hurried in, wand still lit from the dark corridors, and his face lit up entirely.
Professor Jeon Wonwoo had barely crossed the threshold before the boy collided with his legs. "Appa!"
His eyes widened behind his glasses, genuine shock flashing across his usually unreadable face as he instinctively looked up at the people in the room, then back down at the child attached to him.
"Mama found me," Woojin said into his trousers, voice thick with tears, "but I was so scared," his hands tightening in the fabric as if to reassure himself Wonwoo was really there.
"I—" Wonwoo started, and had nothing to follow it with. His hand hovered a moment before settling gently on the boy's back. "I've got you."
McGonagall's eyes moved from the child, to Wonwoo, to you, and back again. The only sound left in the room was Woojin's sniffling. She removed her spectacles, pinched the bridge of her nose, and exhaled slowly.
"My office. Now. We have quite a bit to discuss."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
"Home," Flitwick pressed gently, kneeling to Woojin's eye level, though they were nearly the same height already. "Can you tell us where home is, dear?"
The boy gave him a look that suggested this was a very silly question. "Hogwarts," he said. "Obviously."
"And your parents teach here? At Hogwarts?"
The little boy nodded as an answer.
McGonagall let the silence settle for a moment, studying the little boy who had long since abandoned any attempt at sitting properly. Woojin had curled into your side, one cheek resting against your shoulder while his small fingers remained stubbornly hooked around Wonwoo's sleeve, as though he needed to reassure himself that the two of you were still there. Whatever fear had reduced him to tears earlier seemed to have eased now that he was between the people he believed were his parents.
"Woojin," she said at last, her voice gentler than ever, "can you tell us a little about your parents?"
The effect was immediate. His face brightened so completely that it chased away the last traces of tears, and he twisted around to beam at Wonwoo with open admiration. "My appa's the best wizard ever," he said, stretching his arms wide. "Appa teaches defence and all the big kids like him." He giggled to himself before adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Some people think he's scary, but they're just being silly. Appa's not scary."
A ripple of restrained amusement passed through the room, though Wonwoo looked as though he wished the stone floor might kindly open beneath him.
"Appa used to be a Auror" Woojin's hands flew up to illustrate every word. "He caught lots of bad people and fought bad monsters." He glanced proudly at Wonwoo again. "Mama says he's the bravest." He nodded, satisfied he remembered it right, and declared, "I'm gonna be bravest like him when I'm big."
You felt the weight of every professor's gaze drift toward Wonwoo, whose composure faltered just enough that his eyes lifted, almost involuntarily, to meet yours.
McGonagall let the silence pass before turning her attention back to the child. "And your mother?"
Woojin smiled just as brightly. Without hesitation, he leaned back against you until his head rested comfortably beneath your chin, as though he had occupied that spot a hundred times before. "Mama teaches Herbology," he said happily. "I go to the greenhouses with her sometimes and I help" He puffed out his chest with quiet pride. "I can water the plants all by myself now." Then he sighed dramatically. "But I'm still not allowed near the bitey ones. Mama says I'm too little."
Hagrid let out a booming laugh.
"Yer mum's got the right idea. Best keep away from the chompy ones till yeh're bigger."
A few quiet chuckles escaped around the office despite the increasingly impossible nature of the conversation.
Professor Flitwick smiled warmly, "Do you like living at Hogwarts, Woojin?"
"Mhm!" Woojin nodded enthusiastically, his feet swinging beneath the sofa. "I see Mama every day. And Appa." He began counting on his fingers. “Sometimes Appa takes me to the library, and..." His eyes suddenly found McGonagall again. "You always give me biscuits."
For the first time that evening, McGonagall looked genuinely surprised. "I do?"
He nodded so enthusiastically his fringe bounced. "The round buttery ones. You keep them in a tin," His voice dropped into another confidential whisper. "You say not to tell anyone, 'cause then everyone will want your biscuits."
The corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched despite herself. "I see."
Her gaze lingered on the three of you before she rose, smoothing her dressing gown. "I believe it would be prudent to contact the Ministry."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
By the time the initial shock had settled, it was well past midnight. The Ministry had been contacted, preliminary statements had been taken, and despite an office full of brilliant witches and wizards, no one seemed any closer to understanding how a little boy claiming to be your son had appeared outside the professors' quarters.
Woojin, meanwhile, had reached the end of a very long day. His head kept drooping against your side before jerking upright again, only to repeat itself moments later.
McGonagall noticed it too. "I believe that is enough for one evening," she said, closing the folder before her with quiet finality. "The rest can wait until morning." Her gaze softened as it settled on Woojin.
"The poor boy needs sleep."
The question that remained was where, exactly, he was meant to sleep. He couldn't spend the night in an empty classroom, and neither of you thought he should be alone. Instinctively, both of you looked down the corridor beyond McGonagall's office.
Two doors.
Professor Jeon's quarters.
Professor Lee's quarters.
McGonagall rose from behind her desk and crossed the room, crouching carefully until she was level with the boy.
"Come along, dear," she said kindly. "Why don't you spend the night in my quarters? I've a spare room, and we'll have a proper breakfast in the morning, along with the biscuits you like."
Woojin only shuffled closer, wedging himself between you and Wonwoo, refusing to let go of your sleeve. "No," he said, quiet and almost frightened. "I wanna stay with Mama and Appa."
McGonagall didn't seem offended in the least. If anything, her expression only softened further. "I see," she said, and looked between the three of you. "Well. That does complicate matters somewhat."
For the first time that evening the reality of it settled over you differently. You barely knew Professor Jeon. Outside departmental meetings and the occasional polite exchange in the Great Hall, the two of you had scarcely spoken in the two years you had both worked at Hogwarts. He kept to himself, and you had long since accepted that as simply the way he was. And now the two of you were discussing sleeping arrangements for a child who believed he was your son.
"Professor Jeon," you started, awkward. "You've still got to deal with the Ministry tonight, don't you?"
"I'll need to make a few reports and statements," he agreed.
"I'll take him tonight," you said, glancing down at Woojin, who was fighting to keep his eyes open. "I've looked after children before. My younger brother practically lived in my room until he was eight."
“Are you certain?” Wonwoo studied you a moment, that thoughtful, unreadable look of his, carrying the peculiar feeling of being carefully weighed. "You have had a long evening as well”
"I'll manage."
His gaze dropped to Woojin, whose fingers had found their way around both your sleeve and his own. After a long moment he inclined his head. "Thank you." It sounded almost strange coming from him. "Professor Lee, if anything comes up..."
"I'll come and find you."
He nodded once. "I'll be awake."
The exchange lasted barely a minute, and yet, as you left McGonagall's office, you realized it was the longest conversation the two of you had ever had. Behind you, his door closed with a quiet click.
You didn't expect the night to be particularly difficult. You had practically helped raise Chris. Children, you thought, weren't entirely unfamiliar territory.
You did not, it turned out, know how this child worked, not yet
The cot took only a flick of your wand to assemble. It was small, comfortable, tucked beside your own bed.
"There we are," you said softly.
Woojin looked at it, then looked at you. Before you could persuade him otherwise, he padded straight past it, climbed into your bed, disappeared beneath your blankets and patted the mattress beside him with sleepy certainty.
"Mama."
With a quiet sigh, you extinguished the bedside lamp and slipped beneath the blankets yourself. You let him sleep beside you today. Tomorrow, surely, things would be less strange.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
He was asleep almost before you settled beside him.
One small hand remained stubbornly fisted in the fabric of your nightshirt, refusing to let go even in sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night he shifted closer, inch by sleepy inch, until his cheek rested against your shoulder as though he'd been searching for it all along.. Then came the tiny sniffle
His brows pinched together and a soft, heartbreaking sound escaped him. A quiet, muffled sob of a child caught in the middle of a bad dream, crying without ever fully waking.
Something inside your chest gave way and you brushed your fingers gently through his dark hair, careful not to wake him.
"Hey," you whispered into the darkness. "It's alright sweetheart, you don't have to be scared."
You drew the blankets a little higher around his shoulders.
"I've got you."
Gradually, the little frown disappeared. His breathing evened out once more, warm against your shoulder.
Sleep never came quite so easily for you.
Instead, you lay awake listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, unable to stop thinking about the woman somewhere, who had tucked this little boy into bed every night before somehow losing him.
Whoever she was...
She had to be terrified.
You hoped someone was telling her he would be alright.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Morning came too early. For one disoriented moment you couldn't remember why your shoulder ached, or why someone else's breathing filled the quiet of your room. Then you looked down and remembered everything at once.
Getting yourself ready was one thing. Getting Woojin ready was another entirely. You had barely managed your own cardigan before he darted away from the chair you'd been coaxing him toward for five minutes, hairbrush still useless in your hand.
"Come here, sweetheart. It'll only take a minute."
"No." He stopped just out of reach, arms folding with all the seriousness a five year old could summon. "It hurts."
"I'll be gentle."
"Appa does it better." He patted his own unruly hair. "He makes it look like his."
"I'm afraid I don't know how your Appa does it," you admitted, smiling despite yourself, which only earned an offended huff and a turned away face. With a sigh you reached instead for the toothbrush you transfigured the night before. He accepted it obediently enough, until he looked down and his expression crumbled into disbelief. "This isn't my dinosaur one. Uncle got it for me. I can't brush my teeth without it."
"You absolutely can."
By the time someone knocked, you had given up on your own appearance entirely and opened the door mid argument about whether teeth brushing was optional. Wonwoo stood in the doorway, and whatever he had meant to say caught somewhere behind his teeth. His gaze swept over you, barefoot, hair damp and half brushed, cardigan buttoned askew, as though he couldn't quite reconcile the polished colleague he knew with the woman standing in front of him, harried by an impossible five year old before eight in the morning.
"Sorry," he said after a beat. "McGonagall says the Ministry's arrived. I thought," his gaze slid past you to where Woojin was attempting to hide the toothbrush under a cushion, "..do you want some help?"
"Please," you said, with real feeling, and stepped back to let him in.
He turned out to be considerably better at negotiating with a five year old than you expected, crouching to listen with total seriousness as Woojin explained the importance of the dinosaur toothbrush. Whatever quiet bargain passed between them, worked. Within minutes Woojin had surrendered the hairbrush without complaint, sat patiently while Wonwoo worked through the tangles of his hair, and agreed the substitute toothbrush could be ‘just for today.’
"I've been trying to do that for twenty minutes," you said, watching them in mild disbelief.
"He was very reasonable," Wonwoo said.
Woojin, delighted to have both of you in one room, skipped over. "Mama slept in again," he informed Wonwoo happily, without a trace of malice. "She's always late. But I didn't wake her up. I was good." He recited it like a familiar house rule. "'Let Mama sleep. She needs it more than we do.' Appa you always say that."
"Very good," Wonwoo agreed, straight faced, and caught your eye over the boy's head. Heat crept up your neck.
"I don't always sleep in," you muttered, reaching for your bag. "At least, I don't think I do."
You thought you caught the corner of his mouth twitch and you cleared your throat before the little boy could say something even more embarrassing.
"...We should probably head down for the meeting."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The Ministry officials arrived right away, after reading Professor McGonagall’s letter.
They introduced themselves as members of the Department of Mysteries, though none of them elaborated on what that actually meant. Dressed in unassuming grey robes and carrying curious brass instruments that hummed softly in their hands, they transformed an unused classroom into a temporary examination room and spent the better part of the morning trying to determine exactly who—or what—Woojin was.
Woojin, for his part, found the entire experience fascinating.
Outside the classroom, you waited with your arms folded tightly across your chest, listening to the occasional burst of childish chatter through the half-open door. Professor Jeon stood beside you in companionable silence, close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed.
"They keep looking at him like he's a puzzle to solve," you murmured.
"They're trying to understand him," Wonwoo replied quietly. After a pause, he added, “If any of them are unkind to him, I intend to say something about it, regardless of rank."
You looked at him, surprised by the protectiveness in his voice.
One by one, the possibilities were eliminated.
Memory charms.
Polyjuice Potion.
Transfiguration.
Illusions.
Every test reached the same conclusion.
Finally, the lead official requested a private meeting with you, Professor Jeon, and Professor McGonagall.
"There is no indication," the witch began carefully, "that this child has been altered or fabricated through magic."
She placed two sheets of parchment on McGonagall's desk.
"We also performed a magical signature analysis, and the child's magical signature naturally carries traces of both parents."
She looked between you and Wonwoo. "Woojin's magical signature matches both of yours."
"...No," you said quietly, staring at the parchment for another long moment before shaking your head.
"There has to be some mistake." Your eyes flicked helplessly between Professor McGonagall and the woman seated across the desk. "We've never..."
The words lodged stubbornly in your throat.
Beside you, Wonwoo spoke before you could force yourself to finish.
"...We're just acquaintances."
You looked at him gratefully, and nodded.
"We work together," he said, almost absently, as though saying it aloud would somehow make the conclusion change. "We've never been anything beyond colleagues."
Silence settled over the office.
The official folded her hands neatly atop the desk.
"There is no known spell capable of forging that result," the lead official said carefully, in the privacy of McGonagall's office "As far as the Ministry can determine... this child is biologically yours."
You found yourself reading the report again, despite already knowing exactly what it said, as though the letters might have changed in the last few seconds.
Beside you, Wonwoo removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before putting them back on again.
"Time," McGonagall said eventually, "is the only variable I can think of that would explain a child appearing who is, biologically, already yours, when neither of you has so much as had dinner together."
You, sitting very straight in your chair with hands folded tightly in your lap, felt something in her chest go strange and light and frightened all at once. Beside your, Wonwoo hadn't moved, but anyone could see, in the careful, controlled stillness of him, that he was thinking exactly as fast and exactly as far ahead as you were.
"We'll investigate the how," McGonagall said, not unkindly. "In the meantime, the boy has made his preferences extremely clear, and I see little value in fighting a five-year-old’s instincts when they've so far been correct about everything else. Professors Jeon and Lee, until we know otherwise, I'm placing him in your joint care."
The meeting dissolved not long after.
Outside, Woojin was exactly where you left him, on the stone bench with Hagrid, legs swinging as the gamekeeper showed him something cupped in his enormous hands. The moment he spotted you both, a wide smile appeared on his face. "Mama! Appa!" He slid down and trotted over, slipping one hand into each of yours as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Hagrid chuckled as he rose to his feet.
"Kept 'im company while yeh lot were busy," he said. "Good little lad, this one."
"Thank you, Hagrid," Wonwoo said sincerely.
Hagrid waved it off with a smile before lumbering away, leaving the three of you standing together in the quiet corridor.
“Finished?”, Woojin asked curiously, looking up at both of you. "I'm hungry."
You exchanged a brief, helpless glance over the top of his head with Wonwoo. Neither of you had the heart to tell him that nothing was finished at all.
"Come on," you said eventually, squeezing his little hand. "Let's get some breakfast."
After everything the Ministry had just told you, trying to make sense of the impossible on empty stomachs seemed like a particularly poor idea.
Woojin started happily swinging your joined hands as the three of you started down the corridor. You'd barely made it a few steps before he stopped so abruptly that you almost walked straight into him.
"...Mama?"
You looked down. "Hm?"
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, glancing briefly at Wonwoo before leaning closer to you"...I need the toilet."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, despite everything that had happened that morning, you let out a chuckle.
You caught yourself just in time, smoothing your expression before he could mistake it for teasing.
"Right," you said with all the seriousness you could manage. "That does seem rather urgent."
Beside you, Wonwoo cleared his throat, though you caught the faintest hint of amusement softening his otherwise impassive expression. It was such an ordinary problem, contrasting everything the two of you had been dealing with since the night before.
"I'll meet you in the Great Hall," he said.
"We'll be there shortly." You smiled gently at him.
The moment you took a step, Woojin immediately began tugging you along with considerably more urgency than before.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The Great Hall was mostly empty this early in the term, the students not due back for another week. It was, you thought, the only mercy available to you that morning.
A handful of professors had already gathered at the staff table, breakfast spread lazily before them.
At one end, Quidditch coach, Kim Mingyu was halfway through his toast, chatting idly with Wonwoo.
"So," he said around a mouthful, "I heard something interesting happened last night. They say you've got a kid now." He grinned. "Shame I missed it. Would've loved to witness the birth."
"Shut up and eat your breakfast," Wonwoo said flatly, not looking up from his coffee.
At that moment you stepped in with Woojin marching several paces ahead, waving at each professor as though he'd done it every morning of his life. Then his eyes landed on Mingyu and lit up entirely. "Uncle Gyu!" He barreled straight into him.
Mingyu froze with his toast halfway to his mouth. "Uncle?" He looked from the boy clinging to his side, to you, to Wonwoo. "Jeon. Care to explain why your alleged son thinks I'm his uncle?" But Woojin was already climbing onto him, fists in his robes, and whatever surprise Mingyu felt lasted about two seconds before dissolving into delight.
"You promised you'd take me flying," Woojin reminded him, very seriously. "Yesterday. You said."
"I did?" Mingyu blinked.
"Yesterday," Woojin reminded him very seriously. "You said."
Mingyu looked helplessly towards Wonwoo. "...Did I?" , his attention back to Woojin, who was waiting with unwavering confidence.
"Well... Clearly I'm a man of my word " He grinned. "how about after breakfast?"
Woojin gasped happily before scrambling down again. He hurried straight over to Wonwoo, climbing onto his lap without invitation and cupping his face between both tiny hands.
"Appa," he asked earnestly, "can I go?"
Then he twisted around to look at you.
"Mama?"
For a split second, you froze. Your instinct was to say yes. Then another thought occurred to you.
You had absolutely no idea whether you and Wonwoo had rules about things like this.
"Eat first," you said instead.
Woojin's smile faltered.
"But—"
"You've hardly eaten," you said gently. "Finish your breakfast, and then you can go."
You looked across him, at Wonwoo. "Do you think that's alright, Professor Jeon?" The title felt strange after "Appa" only moments earlier.
Woojin's shoulders slumped, appealing wordlessly to the other parent, but Wonwoo only said, "Mama's right," and the boy sighed and hopped down, taking an exaggerated bite of his sandwich.
Mingyu laughed. "He's definitely your son."
You chose not to ask which one of you he meant.
The moment he was done eating, Woojin was on his feet before anyone else had even pushed back their chair.
"I'm done!"
Before either of you could say another word, Mingyu had already scooped him effortlessly onto one shoulder.
"Come on then, Mini-Jeon."
Their laughter echoed across the Great Hall as the pair disappeared towards the doors together.
Which left the two of you alone at the staff table, breakfast half eaten, with a conversation neither of you had quite prepared for.
"We should talk about how this is going to work," you said.
"Yes," Wonwoo agreed.
You looked at each other, two colleagues who three days ago had rarely exchanged more than polite greetings. "Whatever happens, however he got here, however the Ministry sends him back, he's still five," you said. "He doesn't understand any of this. He's frightened. The least we can do is make sure he feels safe until it's over."
"I agree," Wonwoo said, without hesitation, resting his forearms on the table, already thinking ahead. "The students return next week. Until then, one of us can always be with him."
You nodded. "If I have no lessons, he can stay with me in the greenhouses."
"And during my free periods..." His gaze drifted towards the doors Woojin had disappeared through. "...I'll take him."
You let out a breath, some of the panic that had lived in your chest since the boy first wrapped his arms around your neck finally easing. "So we'll just figure it out."
"We will."
For now, at least, neither of you had to figure it out alone.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The week that followed should have been simple. But, it wasn't.
You settled into the arrangement, Woojin's mornings in the greenhouses, coloring at a little workbench while you repotted seedlings, his afternoons in the Defence classroom with Wonwoo, parchment and crayons spread while lesson plans got written around him. The handovers were brief and polite. Professor Lee. Professor Jeon. A quick word about whether he'd eaten or napped, and then one of you would return to work while the other walked away with his small hand in theirs.
It was practical and organized. Exactly what two colleagues might come up with facing an impossible situation.
It should have worked. Instead, almost without either of you noticing, Woojin began to change.
The chatter went first, the little stories that used to tumble out of him without pause, about Fang, about Uncle Gyu and flying, about Flitwick's levitating feathers, grew fewer and fewer until most meals passed in near silence. Then the smaller things. He stopped reminding you that you supposedly gave him a flower from the greenhouse every day. He stopped correcting Wonwoo when he forgot some detail his Appa should have known. By the end of the week he barely touched his food. There was no tantrum, nothing dramatic to point to, just a boy shrinking a little further into himself each day, his smiles rarer, his laughter quieter, the brightness that had burst into your life outside the professors' quarters slowly dimming.
You noticed it and so did Wonwoo. However, neither of you could figure out why.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The greenhouses had long since emptied one evening, the last gold light fading from the grounds, when you noticed the silence first. Usually Woojin waited on the bench outside, legs swinging, ready to show off whatever he had drawn. Tonight, he wasn't there. A tiny sniffle carried through the quiet instead. You found him curled against the doorframe, knees to his chest, small shaky sobs escaping into his sleeves.
"Woojin?"
His head lifted just as hurried footsteps rounded the corner, Wonwoo, who had come to collect him for dinner, stopping short at the sight. The two of you exchanged one panicked look before crouching together. Your hand found his shoulder. "Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong?"
That was all it took. He threw himself into your arms, shaking, and you wrapped him up while Wonwoo lowered onto one knee, palm circling slow between his shoulder blades. "What's wrong, buddy? Tell us."
It took a long moment before he could speak. "How long," he hiccupped, "are you gonna stay mad at each other?"
You blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Mama and Appa..." Another sob broke through before he could finish. "...You're mad."
"We’re not angry," you said immediately, looking helplessly towards Wonwoo before turning back to the little boy. "Sweetheart, I promise I'm not—"
"Mama liar." The words landed like a slap. He'd never called you that before.
He shook his head, tears spilling fresh. "You call Appa 'Professor.' Mama never calls Appa 'Professor.' You don't eat breakfast together. And Appa doesn't come get you after the greenhouses. You don't read me stories together. You don't say goodnight together." His voice kept dropping. "You don't even sleep in the same house."
His breath hitched high and miserable. "Did I do something? I'm sorry..."
Your heart broke clean in half. Beside you Wonwoo had gone rigid. "You didn't do anything," he said, low and fierce. "Nothing about this is your fault. You didn't make us angry."
"We're not angry with each other," you said, brushing the damp hair from his face. "Do you want to go home? Hm?"
The words hung heavily in the evening air.
Woojin's shoulders trembled as he looked desperately from one face to the other. He sniffled, slipped one small hand into yours, then reached for Wonwoo's with the other and he began walking.
You and Wonwoo exchanged one confused glance before following, letting the little boy lead you through the quiet corridors of the castle, never once hesitating, until he stopped outside a familiar door. Professor Jeon's quarters.
Only then did he look up at the two of you, still holding both your hands.
"...Home."
You went in. There didn't seem to be any other option.
Wonwoo's quarters were, nearly identical in size and shape to yours, and almost entirely bare of anything personal. There was a neat stack of books, a single armchair, a room that looked like it belonged to a man who spent as little time as possible actually living in it. Woojin stood in the middle of it, small and confused, turning in a slow circle.
"Where's my room?" he asked. "Where's my toys?"
There was nothing to show him, no room, no toys, no trace of the boy he was, only two adults trying to comfort a child for the absence of a life that hadn't been built yet.
You knelt and wiped his face with your sleeve. "Sleep for tonight. Tomorrow, I promise, we'll get you new toys. A whole room full, if you want."
He considered this gravely and nodded. "Promise?"
"Promise," Wonwoo said, and meant it in the particular, unshakeable way you were coming to learn was simply how he meant everything.
Satisfied, Woojin rubbed his eyes, yawned, and padded toward the bedroom as if he knew every step by heart, climbing beneath the blankets before either of you reached the doorway. He scooted to the center and patted the empty space on either side. "Can I sleep in the middle tonight?"
The room fell silent. You looked at Wonwoo. He looked at you.
"...The middle?" you echoed weakly.
Woojin nodded, it was the most ordinary request in the world for him.
You hesitated until Woojin had disappeared almost entirely beneath the blankets, only his sleepy little face peeking out.
Leaning towards Wonwoo, you lowered your voice to little more than a whisper.
"...What do we do?"
"He's already distressed," he murmured finally. "If we tell him no now..." He didn't need to finish it. "Stay here until he falls asleep."
You nodded. "Just until he falls asleep."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Morning came slowly. You woke first, it taking a long moment to place the unfamiliar mattress, before you felt something warm and heavy draped across your waist. Woojin had migrated in the night until he was sprawled almost entirely over you, one leg thrown across your middle. You smiled, then glanced past him and froze. You didn’t realise that you had accidentally fallen asleep last night beside the two boys.
Wonwoo was asleep on the other side of the bed. Without his glasses, without the polished look he carried through every staff meeting, he looked... younger somehow. One arm was thrown over his head, the other resting loosely near Woojin.
And beside him, Woojin slept exactly the same way, the same arm flung above the head, the same slight parting of the lips, even the same faint crease settled between their brows. It was almost unsettling, how alike they looked.
A strand of dark hair had fallen across Wonwoo's forehead, obscuring part of his face. Before you could think better of it, your hand lifted almost on instinct, fingers moving carefully toward the loose strand.
The moment your fingertips grazed his hair, brown eyes blinked open.
You stilled, like a deer caught in headlights. ”Oh”
“I was just..observing” Then, quietly, you murmured, "...He sleeps like you."
His eyes flicked to Woojin's arm still flung over, then back. "Does he?" His voice was rough with sleep, deeper than you had ever heard it.
"The same expression and the same way he throws his arm over his head."
He looked at the boy a long moment. "I never would've noticed," he said, in his raspy voice. Neither of you spoke after that. Between you, Woojin sighed contentedly in his sleep and burrowed closer, anchoring himself to both of you at once.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
You went to Hogsmaede the very next morning, all three of you, to fulfil previous night’s promise of getting toys and clothes for Woojin.
The first stop was a children's clothing shop, and within minutes you'd disappeared into the racks. "Woojin, come here." You held a tiny knitted jumper against his front. "Oh, look at you. You're adorable."
"I look handsome," he corrected.
"You look very handsome."
Before you could admire him any longer, the jumper disappeared from your hands. Wonwoo had taken it without a word, turning it over to inspect the label before feeling the fabric between his fingers. Satisfied, he placed it into the trolley while you wandered off again.
"Oh! Woojin, come look at these."
The pattern repeated itself half a dozen times, socks embroidered with broomsticks, robes so impossibly small they made you coo, a knitted hat with bear ears, you and Woojin gasping over each discovery as though it outdid the last, while Wonwoo quietly sorted excitement from practicality behind you, checking sizes and seams before either dropping an item in the trolley or returning it to the shelf.
At one point you and Woojin reached for the same pants at the same moment, looked at each other, and said "in the trolley" in perfect unison. Woojin dissolved into giggles. So did you. Wonwoo paused with another mini sweater halfway to the trolley, watching the two of you laugh over something so inconsequential, and thought, though he didn't say it, that even if Woojin didn’t look like you, he had definitely inherited your joyful personality.
Without a word, he set the pants into the trolley and followed after the pair of you once more.
By the time you finished buying clothes, toys, bedding, books, and enough school supplies, the afternoon had slipped quietly into evening.
Dinner was at a little restaurant tucked between a bookshop and an apothecary, warm with the smell of fresh bread. Until your meals arrived, Woojin had already begun drooping where he sat beside Wonwoo.
He lasted about halfway through his dinner before his cheek settled onto the tabletop with a tiny sigh, the glass of pumpkin juice still clutched loosely in one hand.
You smiled fondly. "I think someone's reached his limit."
Wonwoo glanced over and without disturbing him, he quietly slid the abandoned food onto a plate before pulling the glass of pumpkin juice safely out of the boy's reach.
Only then did he look back at you.
"So," he said, the first time he'd ever started a conversation without prompting. "Did you always want to teach?"
You blinked, pleasantly surprised.
"I think so," You traced absent-minded circles around the rim of your mug. "Professor Sprout was my favourite when I was here. She made everyone feel like they belonged in her classroom. I wasn't particularly talented at first. I nearly killed a Venomous Tentacula in second year."
"...Impressive."
"It wasn't on purpose." You laughed. "I just remember thinking, if I could make one student love Herbology the way she made me love it, I'd have done something worthwhile."
"I imagine you already have." He said it so plainly it took you a second to realize he meant it. "And you?" you asked. "Woojin mentioned you being an Auror."
"I joined the Ministry after graduation." He leaned back slightly.
"It felt like the right thing to do. I was good at it." There was no arrogance in his words, just facts.
"But..." His gaze drifted briefly to the little boy asleep beside him, “eventually I realized I couldn't protect everyone. Perhaps I could teach someone else how to protect themselves instead. So I came here."
You looked at Woojin, asleep between you, utterly convinced this thoughtful, reserved man was his father. "I get it why he looks at you the way he does. Like you can fix anything."
"...I hope," he said quietly, "...I never give him a reason to think otherwise."
By the time you started back toward the castle, Woojin had gone entirely boneless with exhaustion, walking between you with a hand in each of yours, until somewhere along the path his feet simply stopped moving altogether and Wonwoo swept him up without breaking stride, settling him against his shoulder and he was asleep before you'd cleared the gates.
"I'll take him tonight," Wonwoo said quietly, adjusting his hold on the boy. "You should rest. You both used up too much energy while shopping.”
You didn't argue. You walked back to the castle beside him in comfortable, unhurried silence, watching and admiring the way Wonwoo had stepped up into his role so effortlessly.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Students returned the following week, and it took less than a day for the entire castle to discover that Professor Jeon had, apparently, acquired a child.
Woojin looked so unmistakably like Wonwoo, same eyes, same careful, watchful stillness, the same particular way of tilting his head when he was thinking. The resemblance alone silenced most speculation. It took a little longer for anyone to connect the boy to you, mostly because you and Wonwoo had been so studiously careful in public, but it happened anyway, and by the second afternoon the whole school seemed to know that the small boy trailing Professor Jeon between classes called Professor Lee "Mama."
Your brother heard it from three people before lunch and arrived at your Herbology classroom at a dead run.
He burst through the door mid-lesson, loud and dramatic as ever, and you rounded on him without missing a beat. "I am teaching, Chan, go back to your dormitory or I will hex you where you stand."
But Woojin had already spotted him from his corner table, where he'd been colouring quietly through the lesson exactly as he always did. "Uncle Dino!"
Chan blinked. "Huh—?" But the boy had already crossed the room and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him down into the corner with the urgent, conspiratorial whisper of a child sharing a secret.
"Why are you at Hogwarts?" Woojin whispered. "You're supposed to be at work."
"What work?" Chan asked, faintly dazed, crouching properly now, studying the boy's face with growing, dawning confusion. The resemblance to Wonwoo really was uncanny. "How old are you kid?"
Woojin held up five fingers. "Five. I'm a big boy."
The class had, by now, entirely abandoned any pretence of working. You dismissed them five minutes early out of pure self-preservation, and the moment the door shut behind the last student, Chan rounded on you with the full, righteous fury of a man who has just done extremely questionable maths.
"Five years?" he demanded. "You hid a child from me for five years? I'm telling Mum and Dad."
You smacked the back of his head without much force and dragged him toward the door, explaining low and fast everything that had happened. His expression cycled through disbelief, alarm, and fascination. "So he just appeared? In a corridor? And nobody's told Mum and Dad?"
"McGonagall wanted to keep it contained until the Ministry understood what they were dealing with," You said, moving down the row of Mandrake pots with the automatic efficiency. "There's nothing to tell them yet. There's nothing certain to tell anyone yet."
"There's a child, noona. That feels fairly certain." He lowered his voice, glancing at Woojin, who was very obviously listening despite pretending otherwise. "Does he — does Professor Jeon know? Properly know? Has he said anything? Because if he's making you handle this on your own while he just stands there being broody and unreadable like he always—"
"He's been extremely present, actually," you said, sharper than you meant to, faintly surprised by your own defensiveness. "He is good with both of us."
"So you and Professor Jeon..." He said the name like it tasted strange. "He barely talks. Is he good to you? Because I don't care if it's the future or the past or whatever timeline nonsense this is, if he ever—"
"Chan."
"I'm just SAYING—"
"Uncle Dino and Appa are best friends," Woojin announced, from where he'd resettled himself contentedly on the crate beside him, "Appa says you're the little brother he never had."
You couldn't help smiling. Somehow, it was comforting to know that somewhere in some timeline, your brother had found a best friend in Wonwoo. You hadn't expected that of all things, but it felt right.
"That's not—" Chan opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "That doesn't sound like Jeon Wonwoo at all—"
"Was I not supposed to say that?" Woojin asked, blinking up at him, entirely innocent, already sensing from the sudden stillness in the room that he had said something he wasn't meant to.
You closed your eyes briefly and reached for patience.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Woojin settled, in the weeks that followed, into the rhythm of the castle so completely it became hard to remember what Hogwarts had looked like without him.
One evening the greenhouses had gone quiet, students long gone, the castle settling into its nighttime hush beyond the glass, when the door creaked and Wonwoo stepped inside.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You aren't." You glanced up from the moonlily buds you were coaxing open.
"I came to see if you were still here," he said. "Woojin was asking where you were."
Your expression softened. "Is he alright?"
Wonwoo sat on a stool, pulling it closer to your set. "He waited up." said, the corner of his mouth lifting,"..but ended up falling asleep."
You smiled to yourself. "I'll apologise in the morning for making him wait up."
"He won't remember."
His gaze drifted to the flowers. "What are these?"
"Moonlilies. They only bloom after sunset, rather boring during the day." Your fingers brushed a pale blossom as another unfurled beside it, silver petals catching the moonlight through the glass roof.
"They're beautiful," he said.
"They're my favourite." You gestured at the rows stretching deeper into the greenhouse. "They'll keep blooming another hour or so. If you ever can't sleep, you can come see them."
Something unreadable crossed his face. "I'd like that."
The quiet settled again, comfortable, until he spoke. "Hold still." You blinked, and he leaned closer, reaching up to brush his thumb across your cheek. "There. You had mud." Your heartbeat became unexpectedly hard to ignore. He seemed entirely unaffected, or simply very good at pretending otherwise.
After a moment, as though the question had only just occurred to him, “Do you have a partner?"
The question caught you so off guard you laughed. "No."
"No one waiting for you?"
"No."
He nodded once. "I've been thinking," he said. "About Woojin. He still wakes some nights expecting both of us, and we keep sending him between two rooms." He paused. "I was wondering whether we should ask Professor McGonagall if our quarters could be connected. So he has one home."
The thought lingered longer than you expected. It wasn't technically moving in together, just one home, for a little boy who couldn't understand why his parents lived apart. "I think he'd like that," you said.
"I do too."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
McGonagall agreed the next morning with the look of a woman who'd been waiting rather a while to be asked, and the magic took most of an afternoon, walls softening, a doorway blooming where there had been solid stone, two sets of rooms folding into one home neither of you had entirely built on purpose.
You brought Woojin to see it after dinner. He walked in ahead of you, and the moment he crossed the threshold he simply lit up, spinning in a delighted circle.
You brought Woojin to see it after dinner. He walked in ahead of you and lit up completely, spinning in a circle. "My house is back!" He threw his arms around the couch. "I missed you, home!" then, abruptly, "Where's Seol?" already forgotten in the next breath as he sprinted for the bedroom that had once been yours.
"Mama, Mama, this is my room!" he announced, bouncing on the bed with total confidence, and you didn't have the heart to correct him, didn't particularly want to.
He herded you both through the rest of it with the brisk, self-appointed authority of a very small landlord, and finished by planting himself in front of what had been Wonwoo's door alone,until that afternoon, pointing inside. "Go to your room. Goodnight, Mama." He rose on his toes, pulling you lower and pressed a firm kiss to your cheek, then did the same to Wonwoo, who accepted it with startled, helpless tenderness. Then Woojin stepped back, arms crossed, and looked between the two of you expectantly.
"Now your turn," he said, like this was simply the next obvious step in the routine.
You and Wonwoo looked at each other. A warm flush crept across your cheeks, his ears turning red in similar fashion.
"...Oh," you managed intelligently.
Beside you, Wonwoo looked equally flustered, clearing his throat as though searching for words.
Before either of you could decide who was supposed to move first—
"Fast," Woojin giggled, looking at the pair of you like you were being terribly silly. He pointed at his own cheeks with both hands. "Goodnight kisses!"
You closed your eyes for the briefest moment. Wonwoo quietly looked at the ceiling.
"...Right," you mumbled.
Woojin waited patiently while the two of you recovered enough dignity to lean down and kiss one of his cheeks each
Woojin dissolved into delighted laughter. "Silly Mama and Dada," he announced, thoroughly unbothered by the fact that you'd both gone crimson and speechless, and skipped off to his own room without a backward glance, leaving the two of you standing in the doorway in the sudden, charged quiet he had left behind.
Neither of you said very much, after that. There wasn't, really, anything sensible to say.
You ended up in the same room. It seemed the simplest arrangement now that the quarters had become one home instead of two, and neither of you had the energy to overthink what that might mean.
He was careful with you. Quiet, steady, bringing the same attentiveness he brought to everything, and you found you trusted it completely, the way you had found yourself trusting nearly everything about him these past weeks without quite noticing when it started. His hand found yours in the dark. Sleep came slowly, not from discomfort, but from being suddenly, acutely aware of each other in a way you hadn't been before. Eventually, exhaustion won and you both drifted to a quiet sleep.
Woojin woke sometime after midnight.
He padded sleepily into the hallway, rubbing one eye with the back of his fist. The door to the bedroom stood slightly ajar.
He peeked in. Moonlight spilled across the room, and his parents were asleep, your back against Wonwoo’s chest, his arm loose around your waist, both of you breathing with the heavy rhythm of people too tired to notice how close you had ended up. His sleepy face broke into the biggest grin. "You’re back," he whispered, and climbed carefully onto the bed, curling up in front of you instead of between you, pulling your arm over himself with practiced familiarity, asleep again within seconds.
Wonwoo woke first in the morning. Woojin lay between you now, not separating you, but tucked safely in front of you, your arm around him, his own arm still loose around your waist. Three people. One tangled shape on the bed.
He watched you both breathe a moment, then reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before settling back against the pillow. For once, he felt no urgency to get up. Morning could wait.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
With Woojin increasingly absorbed into afternoons with Uncle Dino or Uncle Gyu, you and Wonwoo found yourselves with actual unclaimed hours, and neither of you was quite willing to waste them.
It was Wonwoo who moved first.
He started appearing at the greenhouse door with two steaming cups of tea, lingering awkwardly in the doorway until you looked up from your work.
"Thought you might want company," he'd say, as though that alone explained why he crossed half the castle during his free period.
More often than not, Woojin would toddle over the moment he spotted him, abandoning whatever stick or flower had captured his attention. Wonwoo would wordlessly scoop him with one before handing you your tea. Within a week the gesture had become second nature.
A few days later you found him asleep over a stack of essays, quill still loose in his hand. You slipped his glasses off his face and set them beside the parchment before nudging his shoulder.
He blinked awake, disoriented, and you told him plainly that he needed to go to bed.
"I still have—"
"You've been raising an energetic five year old all day," you said, folding your arms. "The essays can wait."
He looked at you for a long moment, and something in his expression softened before he admitted, voice still thick with sleep "I don't mind either of your energies," he stifled a yawn, stretching his arms "..makes me happy."
You had absolutely no idea what to do with that so you said nothing at all.
He still insisted on staying up most nights to finish grading, so eventually you started bringing your own work into his office instead of arguing about it. Neither of you said much once you were both settled. He would shift his chair a little closer, you would spread your parchment across the corner of his desk, and the two of you worked in companionable silence until the candles burned low.
He began walking you to your classroom afterward too, even though the route took him the opposite way from his own. He never explained it beyond insisting he would get to his class eventually, and eventually, it seemed, always meant after he'd seen you safely to your door.
On the colder mornings you were the one who stopped him and Woojin halfway across the courtyard, pointing sternly at the hat dangling forgotten from Woojin's hand until he groaned and put it on. Then you turned the same look on Wonwoo.
"You too."
He blinked in suprise."...Me?"
"You'll both catch cold," you said, and without another word pulled his scarf a little tighter around him.
He noticed things before you did. A quill running low on ink would be quietly replaced on your desk overnight. If you skipped lunch, a neatly wrapped sandwich would turn up in the staff room by early afternoon, and you'd know without asking where it came from.
You noticed things too. Whenever he buried himself in paperwork through mealtimes, you started simply setting a plate down beside him in the Great Hall and waiting until he ate it, ignoring whatever protest he tried to offer. Woojin, already halfway through his own shepherd's pie, took to backing you up without being asked, informing his father solemnly that Mama had said to eat, so he should eat.
Wonwoo accepted defeat every time.
Across the table, Mingyu had taken to watching these exchanges with an unbearably smug grin, and one evening he finally said aloud what he'd clearly been thinking for weeks, “I love your little family
You and Wonwoo looked up in perfect unison.
"We're not—"
"...a family?" Mingyu finished for you, smiling into his drink. "Right."
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Slowly, the conversations that had once ended after a polite greeting stretched into long ones. Silence stopped feeling awkward between you. You learned that Wonwoo didn't speak often, not because he had nothing to say, but because he waited until something was worth saying. He learned, in turn, that you talked enough for the both of you, wandering easily from Herbology to your brother's latest letter to a book you read years ago that had suddenly reminded you of a student.
Most people interrupted you eventually. Wonwoo never did. He listened with his attention fixed solely on you. Over time you began to notice the small things about him that anyone else might have missed: the faint lift at the corner of his mouth, the thoughtful hum whenever he disagreed, the way he would bring up something you had mentioned days earlier as though it had never once left his mind.
Somehow, without either of you deciding it, spending time together stopped feeling like an obligation born from impossible circumstances. You began to look forward to it instead.
One evening, while Woojin sat between you at the table stubbornly sounding out a picture book, you found yourself watching Wonwoo rather than the page. He guided the boy through each difficult word with endless patience, never frustrated, never rushing him, and the thought left you before you could stop it.
"I think I understand now," you said, "why I'd marry you."
You looked at him, a little embarrassed after the words left you, and Wonwoo looked completely caught off guard.
"I think I do too." He held your gaze for a long, quiet moment.
Then, almost shyly, he looked back down at the book beside him, where Woojin was still waiting, for his appa to help him with the next word.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The best afternoons belonged entirely to Woojin.
They usually started with a game of tag across the grounds, Wonwoo pretending badly not to be fast enough to catch him, until somehow you were running too, laughing while Woojin shrieked with delight between the two of you.
Someone always tripped eventually, usually you, and Wonwoo would stumble trying to catch you before all three of you went down together in the grass, Woojin throwing himself on top of the pile with a triumphant declaration that your pile was now a hamburger.
You and Wonwoo dissolved into helpless laughter beneath the weight of a giggling five year old.
It was in moments like these that you had to remind yourself, gently and every time, that none of it was permanent.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The Ministry officials returned in early October with answers at last.
An illegal Time-Turner experiment had torn open a fracture between two points in time. Woojin had wandered too close, slipping through before anyone could stop him. He had never belonged in this timeline—not because he came from another world, but because he came from several years ahead.
Somewhere in that future, two frantic parents had spent weeks searching for the little boy who had vanished without a trace.
"There is a window," the lead investigator explained quietly. "We can safely return him."
The witch hesitated before continuing.
"The timeline will... protect itself afterwards."
You asked her what that meant.
"Everyone’s memories won't disappear all at once," she said. "But as the fracture closes, they'll begin to blur. Faces first, then conversations. Eventually it will feel more like something you dreamed than something you lived."
Woojin would forget these months too. He would remember growing up exactly as he was meant to. As far as he would ever know, he had never been here at all.
It was supposed to be a kindness, yet it felt unimaginably cruel.
The walk back to the castle was silent.
That night, neither of you slept much. Woojin, blissfully unconcerned, lay between you talking about things that happened that morning-- Uncle Gyu teaching him Quidditch fouls, Uncle Dino taking him along with his friends to Hogsmeade. Every ordinary little story landed somewhere deep inside you, each one another reminder that there was an entire life waiting for him beyond your reach.
Eventually his words grew slower, each sentence interrupted by a yawn, until they dissolved into sleepy murmurs. Within minutes he was asleep between you, one small hand fisted loosely in the fabric of Wonwoo's sleeve.
You watched him for a long time. Then, unable to stop yourself, you gathered him carefully into your arms and pressed your face into his soft hair. The first tear fell before you realized you were crying, and you tried to stay quiet so you wouldn't wake him.
Beside you, Wonwoo didn't say a word. He simply moved closer until your shoulders touched, then wrapped one arm around both of you, drawing you and the sleeping boy against his chest. You felt his chin come to rest lightly atop your head. For a while there was only warmth, and the quiet understanding that for one more night, the three of you were still here. You leaned into him, having a final night with the family you had briefly been allowed to borrow.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
The Astronomy Tower was quiet at dawn.
Woojin stood between you, one hand tucked into yours and the other in Wonwoo's, looking more curious than frightened.
"Will you be okay?" you asked softly.
He looked up at you with complete certainty. "I'll see you for dinner."
The words caught somewhere behind your ribs. Wonwoo crouched down in front of him and smoothed a wrinkle from his little jumper, telling him gently that his mum and dad had been looking for him. Woojin frowned, as though the sentence didn't make any sense at all
"You are my mum and dad."
You dropped to your knees beside Wonwoo, your shoulder brushing his.
"We are," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Just... a little earlier."
Still not able to grasp the meaning, he wrapped both tiny arms around the two of you together, deciding it probably wasn’t that important anyway.
"I'll see Mama and Appa for dinner,” he mumbled into the hug.
The Ministry kept its promise. The memories faded carefully over the following days, lifted away one by one until neither of you could remember the name of the child you loved, only the shape he had left behind.
Some things, however, refused to disappear. Whatever the timeline had taken, it hadn't touched what you and Wonwoo now shared. Somehow, without either of you noticing, Wonwoo had become the first person you looked for at the start of every day, and you had become the place he returned to at the end of it. Neither of you questioned when the castle had stopped feeling like home, and each other had quietly become one instead.
❈ ── 🍃 ── ❈
Several years later, you stood in the kitchen of the house you shared with Wonwoo and eventually made your own. Morning sunlight spilled across the wooden table, where a list of baby names lay abandoned between two half-finished mugs of tea.
Absentmindedly, your hand rested over the gentle curve of your stomach.
Wonwoo looked up from the list and asked if you had any favourites. You tapped the parchment with the end of your quill, thinking, and the name left your lips before you could even reconsider it.
"...Woojin."
You frowned slightly, almost amused by yourself. "I don't know why," you admitted. "It just... feels right."
He looked at the name for a long moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I like it too. It somehow feels perfect."
Neither of you questioned it. Some things had long since stopped needing explanations.
Outside, Seol tore happily through the garden after a fluttering butterfly, barking with the same boundless enthusiasm she had since she was a puppy. You watched her through the window until you felt familiar hands settle gently around your waist from behind.
"You've been standing too long, baby," Wonwoo murmured against your ear, pressing a small kiss to your jaw.
"I'm pregnant, not made of glass."
"I know," he said, guiding you back toward your chair anyway, one hand settling over yours where it rested against your stomach.
"You fuss too much, honey," you said, though there was no real complaint in it.
"So I've been told."
You laughed softly and turned in your seat to face him. He knelt without a word, the way he always did lately, resting his cheek on your stomach a moment, like he was listening for something.
You laughed softly and turned in your seat to look at him properly. He caught your gaze almost immediately.
"Baby," he said, kissing over the curve of your stomach, "can you tell your mama to stop staring at me?"
You let out an indignant laugh. "I think I’m allowed to stare at my handsome husband."
The faintest blush made his ears turn red. You smiled, softer now, and settled your hand over his where it rested against your stomach.
"You're going to be such a wonderful father, Won." You said it so simply, like you already knew, and subconsciously you did. "I just know it."
For a moment he only looked at you, like he couldn't quite find the words for what that did to him. Then he straightened, tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, before leaning down to meet your lips.
The kiss was slow and careful. One hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek, the other gripping the armrest of the chair to avoid hurting you. When he finally pulled back he only went as far as your forehead, staying close, breathing you in like he wanted to keep this exact moment a little longer.
"I love you," he murmured against your skin, quiet and certain, like it was the easiest true thing he had ever said.
"I know," you smiled, your hand finding his jaw. "I love you too."
His hand found your stomach again unconsciously, just as something shifted beneath it. Both of you went still.
"Did you feel that?"
A small kick answered for him. Wonwoo huffed out a soft and a little disbelieving laugh, and bent down to press yet another kiss to your stomach, murmuring something against it too quiet for you to catch. You covered his hand with yours anyway, content to let him have the moment.
Outside, Seol barked triumphantly at nothing at all. Inside, your home was warm with morning light and love, that the two of you had spent years quietly building.
And somewhere in that warmth, already loved before he had taken his first breath, a little boy was about to come home to the family that had always been his.
End.
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