I'm Shina (1900s) and thanks for stumbling upon my little writing corner!
✿ First and foremost: The majority of my content contains adult, sexually-explicit themes. I do my best to list all smut warnings and potential triggers in my fics. If I miss any, please let me know so I can include it.
✿ That said, I'm not your mom (I have enough children, thanks). I cannot and do not have any control over content that you choose to freely consume. The internet is a big world, and I am a tired geriatric millennial.
✿ I'm a romance writer and heavily influenced by movies and TV shows (especially dramas) so that should give you an idea of my typical style.
✿ I currently write for BTS and SVT.
✿ I don't have a posting schedule, unfortunately. I write when the mood strikes! This is just a fun hobby for me and I try to enjoy it as much as I can.
✿ Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to interact or say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎
BTS Fic Masterlist ❈ SVT Fic Masterlist ❈ Find me on AO3
Summary: “I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.”
A/N: First fic of 2026! Un-beta’d. Lfg.
"Are you not frightened?"
You tilt your head deliberately, trying to look casual instead of terrified. "Should I be?"
Your pulse hammers against your ribs—a frantic drumbeat you pray he can't hear. But the knowing quirk of his lips betrays you. He closes his eyes for a moment, his expression transforming into pure appreciation, like a composer savoring a symphony for the first time.
The corner of his mouth lifts as he opens his eyes, regarding you intently. "I'm curious... what on earth possessed you to take up this..." His eyes drift down your throat before flicking back to meet yours. "...venture?"
“It’s just another assignment, Mr. Park.” You keep your reply professional, even though you both know it’s only half true.
Curiosity is part of it, sure—but that isn’t the whole story.
Your boss practically foamed at the mouth when the network secured the rights to interview the most elusive, publicly known vampire in the country. But instead of sending one of the seasoned anchors, he tossed the assignment to a junior. Why risk a moneymaker when he can offer up someone more…expendable?
And if you happen to end up as Park Jimin’s dinner, well…then the network’s golden boy gets to break the story, and publicly crucify the monster who killed you. Boom! Ratings all around.
Jimin's smile widens, the tips of his fangs begin descending—sharp, pearlescent, and unmistakably real. He holds your gaze as they retract, a quiet demonstration of his power.
“And the fact that I'm a monster doesn't intimidate you?" His voice drops to a whisper that fills the entire room.
"Vampires, warmbloods…we’re all monsters in our own ways." You shrug your shoulders. "At least you're more upfront about it."
The laugh he lets out is a low, resonant sound that sinks into your bones. Was he mocking you?
“Glad I can amuse you,” you say, your voice tight.
His smile falters, replaced by something more apologetic. “Please don’t misconstrue me. It’s been a while since I’ve encountered somebody like you.”
He studies you again. It’s unsettling, the way his gaze lands on you like a spotlight you never asked for.
“As in…?” The question tumbles out before you can stop it.
He leans in, close enough for the cold scent of darkness clinging to his skin to invade your senses.
"Someone who fascinates me."
For all his elusiveness, humans who crossed his path typically unraveled—tongue-tied, breathless, stumbling over themselves as they offered their throats in hopes of a chance at eternal life. But Jimin hadn't turned anyone in over three centuries, and he had no intention of changing that now.
Those people bored him. But you? Fascinating? The girls in high school would beg to differ. You're nothing special.
Maybe he just likes to play with his food first.
Just then, his hand moves so fast you barely register it. Fingers colder than death itself brush the underside of your wrist. If he couldn't hear your pulse racing before, he can certainly feel it now.
Your heart jumps to your throat, yet you don't pull away.
"Don't worry," he murmurs, retracting his hand. "I won't bite... unless you ask,” he adds with a cocky smirk.
"Good to know," you reply with a quiet gasp. “With all due respect, can we please get on with the interview?”
“I was under the impression that it had already begun.”
BTS Fic Masterlist
A/N2: I’m not sure what this will be yet, but I am feeling very inspired (and wrecked) by Jimin these days. This is an amalgamation of all the vampire lore I’ve consumed over the years, but it’s my first attempt at actually writing in this genre. I hope to post more next week!
********
Thank you for reading!
Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎
Summary: “I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.”
A/N: First fic of 2026! Un-beta’d. Lfg.
"Are you not frightened?"
You tilt your head deliberately, trying to look casual instead of terrified. "Should I be?"
Your pulse hammers against your ribs—a frantic drumbeat you pray he can't hear. But the knowing quirk of his lips betrays you. He closes his eyes for a moment, his expression transforming into pure appreciation, like a composer savoring a symphony for the first time.
The corner of his mouth lifts as he opens his eyes, regarding you intently. "I'm curious... what on earth possessed you to take up this..." His eyes drift down your throat before flicking back to meet yours. "...venture?"
“It’s just another assignment, Mr. Park.” You keep your reply professional, even though you both know it’s only half true.
Curiosity is part of it, sure—but that isn’t the whole story.
Your boss practically foamed at the mouth when the network secured the rights to interview the most elusive, publicly known vampire in the country. But instead of sending one of the seasoned anchors, he tossed the assignment to a junior. Why risk a moneymaker when he can offer up someone more…expendable?
And if you happen to end up as Park Jimin’s dinner, well…then the network’s golden boy gets to break the story, and publicly crucify the monster who killed you. Boom! Ratings all around.
Jimin's smile widens, the tips of his fangs begin descending—sharp, pearlescent, and unmistakably real. He holds your gaze as they retract, a quiet demonstration of his power.
“And the fact that I'm a monster doesn't intimidate you?" His voice drops to a whisper that fills the entire room.
"Vampires, warmbloods…we’re all monsters in our own ways." You shrug your shoulders. "At least you're more upfront about it."
The laugh he lets out is a low, resonant sound that sinks into your bones. Was he mocking you?
“Glad I can amuse you,” you say, your voice tight.
His smile falters, replaced by something more apologetic. “Please don’t misconstrue me. It’s been a while since I’ve encountered somebody like you.”
He studies you again. It’s unsettling, the way his gaze lands on you like a spotlight you never asked for.
“As in…?” The question tumbles out before you can stop it.
He leans in, close enough for the cold scent of darkness clinging to his skin to invade your senses.
"Someone who fascinates me."
For all his elusiveness, humans who crossed his path typically unraveled—tongue-tied, breathless, stumbling over themselves as they offered their throats in hopes of a chance at eternal life. But Jimin hadn't turned anyone in over three centuries, and he had no intention of changing that now.
Those people bored him. But you? Fascinating? The girls in high school would beg to differ. You're nothing special.
Maybe he just likes to play with his food first.
Just then, his hand moves so fast you barely register it. Fingers colder than death itself brush the underside of your wrist. If he couldn't hear your pulse racing before, he can certainly feel it now.
Your heart jumps to your throat, yet you don't pull away.
"Don't worry," he murmurs, retracting his hand. "I won't bite... unless you ask,” he adds with a cocky smirk.
"Good to know," you reply with a quiet gasp. “With all due respect, can we please get on with the interview?”
“I was under the impression that it had already begun.”
BTS Fic Masterlist
A/N2: I’m not sure what this will be yet, but I am feeling very inspired (and wrecked) by Jimin these days. This is an amalgamation of all the vampire lore I’ve consumed over the years, but it’s my first attempt at actually writing in this genre. I hope to post more next week!
********
Thank you for reading!
Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎
Definition: To meet and cross at a point; To share a common area
Pairing: KNJ x fem!reader (mainly); with appearances by OT7
Rating: M (🔞); NSFW
Genre: Office!AU; enemies to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Total word count: 70,300K words
Status: Completed ✅
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapter updates): heavy office banter; excessive cussing (I wouldn't be me without this warning); office romance; angst; fluff; pining; unrequited love; smut; alcohol consumption
Summary: You hate him, he hates you. You were both fine staying in your own lanes--until you're forced to work together on a make-or-break project for your company.
❤️, comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩--I love hearing from readers!
Navigation:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 5.5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |
Part 9.5 | Part 9.75 | Part 10 Finale + epilogue. |
Just to let you know that I read Coquet in 2022 in the plane from South Korea and I couldn't sleep for the whole flight because I was so focused on reading. I still think about it every time and then, it's truly a masterpiece 😩
Oh wow.
First of all, I’m sorry this kept you up during the entire flight 🫣 Secondly, thank you so much for dropping me a note here. Four-something years later, I may not be actively writing and posting much here, but this really made my day. It’s also wild to be reminded of Coquet!JK these days—with all his shenanigans during this comeback 🥵
That aside—thank you, THANK YOU for reading my fic💜
\ kō-ˈket
Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.
✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫
Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader
Rating: M (🔞)
Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: SLOW BURN!; bed-sharing; morning-after conversation; excessive cussing; explicit sexual conversations; oral (mutual); fingering; breast play; riding; protected sex; dirty talk; cum eating; praise kink; vulnerable confessions and conversations; tooth-rotting fluff; some angst; more tension and teasing (as if I didn't put enough already); quickie sex; JK and YN are such idiots for each other; medical emergency; crack ensues
Word count: 9.4K+ words
Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N: This started off soft...and then got kind of filthy in the middle? Anyway, I'm trying to keep it classy but it's hard to do when I'm writing about this man 😂 A bit more exposition on this chapter. I glossed over a few things but hopefully it still all makes sense, plot-wise.
A/N2: Multiple POV switches here - I hope it's not too jarring! Please let me know if it is--I would love to improve my writing, if so!
A/N3: For the ending...I apologize for the shallow research 😓 I did my best for that portion but will try a little harder in the coming chapters. Thank you for understanding.
When Jungkook woke, there was barely any light in the room. He rolled to the far side of his half of the bed. He lifted his torso slightly to tap on his phone and check what time it was. He saw that it was barely six in the morning—typically about the time he started his shift…at his normal job.
He chuckled to himself. It was odd to think about work since it hadn’t crossed his mind much. But since his colleague had been in contact with him in the last two days, it’s been slowly nagging at him. This was the first time he’d taken time off in a while and his colleague had apologized profusely every time they had to call him. He didn’t mind–he loved his job. And if he was being honest, it was great to focus on one job since he gave up being an escort many months ago.
But since he decided to go for one final booking– he was intent on making the most out of the last few days.
Settling back into the mattress, he rolled over to face her and couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his lips. She looked calm and passive–the total opposite of the minx that she was just hours ago.
Contrary to what he said to her last night, he had never fully relinquished control. He only made women think that he did–but in the end, he always took back the reins.
He was completely enraptured and he was all too happy to toss out the final remnants of control that he had out the door just so she would allow him to have her.
Just then, she stirred. Her eyes flickered open.
“Morning,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as quickly as she had opened them to adjust to the light that started to fill the room.
When she opens them again, she finds him beaming at her from where he’s lying on his side, mirroring her. Her hand is on his hip. His on hers.
“You look pretty happy this morning,” she says while smiling at him.
He chuckles, while she moves in closer until her breath is spreading across his bare chest.
“I like watching you sleep. You make all these little noises. And you have the cutest snore.”
She laughed lazily at that. She rolls on her back to stretch herself out slowly before laying on her side again.
Moments later, he slides his hand on her naked back and pulls her closer to him.
“Woah there,” she croaks out. “I just woke up–give a girl some time to recover,” she chuckled as she rested her palm on his chest.
“I wasn’t even thinking about that,” he says. “I thought it was a little chilly in the room so–I thought I’d warm you up.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Truthfully, he did want her again…just like this. She felt soft and warm–and her being naked was making things twice as difficult to resist. If sleep wasn’t a necessity, he would have kept going all night.
“How do you feel?” He manages to ask while trying to distract himself from his growing hardon.
“Good,” she said simply. She smiled before catching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something else behind that smile. He knew that she was replaying moments from the night before. She stretched her neck to the side and back. He had her bent over every which way last night–admittedly, he was a little worried whether he had pushed her to her limit.
She propped up her elbow and rested her head on it. “What about you?”
“Also good,” he says simply. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks out of concern.
She laughed. “I’m fine. It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve trained for a marathon,” she jokes. It eased his worries.
Suddenly, something catches her eye. She swipes at his pec and giggles while she holds up her finger to him, showing faint traces of chocolate. “Looks like we made a mess last night, huh?”
“We did.” He goes on to trace his finger under her jawline, finding a smudge of chocolate. “And I apparently missed a spot,” he said before he tilts her head back to dip down to her neck to lick it.
She moaned softly as his soft licks turned into slow suctions.
His hand traveled down to her thigh, giving it a squeeze before he grasped the back of her knee to wrap her leg around him. Once she was open for him, he reached back to rub her clit from behind. She was already swollen and soaked for him in a matter of seconds.
She gently wriggled away from his grasp, taking him by surprise–giggling.
“Did I do something wrong?”
She shook her head as she rose from her side, making him sit up in reaction.
“Nothing–I just wanted to mix it up a bit,” she says as she turns the tables and straddles his waist.
He laughed. “Hmm–still want to be in control, I see?”
She smiled mischievously. “I kind of like it.” She bit her lower lip with her teeth–making his cock twitch. Her confidence turned him on like crazy, way more than seeing her in all her glory while his hardon rested against her ass cheeks.
She reached over by the nightstand on his side to grab a condom. For those few seconds, he relished the feel of her breasts pressed up against his bare chest. He was finding it hard to flip her on her back and fuck her right into next week.
When she straightened up, she adjusted herself so his cock was now in the forefront.
He moaned softly as he felt her slickness glide over the tip ever-so-slightly. He was being extremely patient, letting her set the pace.
She glanced down at this length, as if admiring it. Just when he thought he knew what to expect, she curled her fingers around it and stroked slowly.
His jaw goes slack, letting out a quick breath as her hand slid up to the tip, squeezing out the pre-cum. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when she arched her back downward for a lick.
“Fuck,” he croaked out.
Next thing he knew, she took him in her mouth. She sucked him with long, drawing pulls, alternated with a drag of the flat of her tongue up and down his length.
His thighs flexed, breaths coming out ragged, one hand fisting at the sheets while the other cupped her nape as the coil within him twisted further every time he felt his tip hit the back of her throat.
“YN, I’m close,” he managed to say. “Do you want me to cum like this?”
At the sound of that, she released her hold on him, making a soft popping noise. “Hmm, nope.”
Oddly, he didn’t mind that she stopped. Without missing a beat, he slid a hand between her thighs. She was drenched just from sucking him off.
She gasped when his fingers grazed her folds, teasing her entrance before he plunges two fingers.
“Tell me,” he all but growls as he curls his digits in her. “Do you want my cock where my fingers are now?”
Eyes squeezed shut, she nodded wordlessly. “I can’t hear you, YN,” he purrs, adding a third finger into her.
“Aah…fuck, yes. I want you in me, please,” she begged.
“That’s better.” He feels around the sheets for the condom that she grabbed earlier. Once he retrieves it, he rips the packet with his teeth, then hands it to her to sheath him while he continues to pump into her with his other hand.
After she slid the condom down his length, he withdrew his fingers from her slowly. He brought them up to his lips and sucked. He loved the way she tasted. He kept coming back for more last night when he ate her out a few times. He made a mental note to do that again today.
He lifted her hips while she guided him to her center, sinking into him with ease with how wet she was.
While her walls settled around him, he asked, “Whatever happened to your thoughts on sex for money as being, I believe the quote was, ‘morally abhorrent?’”
“Well–” she puckered her lips playfully. “Technically, it’s just sex–really good sex, if I may say so. No money’s been exchanged…yet,” she says softly as she rolled her hips once.
“You really think I’d still charge you for this?” His hips surged as well, which made her moan.
“Like I said…I don’t expect anything for free…especially when it’s good work.” She bucked at him in return, making him growl–gripping her hips tightly.
“Hmm…be careful of what you wish for. I might bankrupt you then.” He slammed deep into her core.
She gasped. “Then I’m happy to go broke for you.”
She pulled his palms from her hips and dragged them down up her breasts. When he cupped them, she splayed her hands on his shoulders and rocked her hips. He felt harder than he’d ever been as she continued to undulate. His fingers on her nipples, rolling and tugging, sent waves of pleasure through her, the gentle stimulation shooting straight to her core. When he urged her closer and took the hardened tip in his mouth she cried out, making their bodies heat up with arousal.
“Fuck… at this rate, I think I would need to pay you,” he grunted. “I…fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
“Yes…fuck me harder, Jungkook,” she breathes out. As she clenched her thighs, he lifted her. She closed her eyes to focus on the way he felt as he slid out…then he bit his lip at the way he felt her stretch as he slid back in.
“That’s it, YN,” he murmured, licking across her chest to her other nipple, fluttering his tongue over the tight, aching tip.
Rolling his hips, he relished the feel of filling her so to the brim. She had shamelessly worked herself into a frenzy as she rode him, bending backward at an angle so the tip rubbed her right where she needed it.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” she mewled as she held on to his shins. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…” she chanted. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back but he knew that he wanted to make her cum first. He liked watching her fall apart–he reveled in it.
“You’re so beautiful.” He gripped the back of her neck in one hand and her waist in the other, arching his hips to push deeper, making her gasp audibly. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, YN.”
She whimpered as he felt everything in her tighten. The tension, builds further from his deep rhythmic strokes. He was panting, frantically pumping his hips harder. Reaching between her legs, she rubbed her clit with the pads of her fingers, hastening her climax. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever watched.
He gasped, leaning against the headboard’s cushion, his neck straining as he struggled to control his own climax. “C’mon, YN…give it to me.”
His words and his voice pushed her over the edge. She steeled herself–crying out when the first hard tremor hit her…then again as the rest of her orgasm cascaded through her body. He felt her walls clamped tightly around his length–spurring his own climax.
He groaned through gritted teeth, holding onto her until the clenches began to fade. He clutched her hips and pumped the last spurts into her…with one, final deep thrust, he growled her name.
******
He fucked you in the shower once more. He ate you out right before that. You stood against the wall while he was on his knees—your leg hooked on his shoulder as he worked. All you did was pick out your clothes from the closet—naked. Then he took you by surprise.
You barely made it downstairs before the coffee shop ended breakfast service.
Shortly after, the wedding party was off to the chapel.
When you arrived, you and Jungkook split off while you went to greet Taehyung, who was conversing with Jimin and another groomsman. You walked off right before Haru returned from the bathroom.
You approached Mindi, Jennie, Hana, and Liah. The latter three having their own animated conversation about what songs they’d be singing during karaoke night after the rehearsal dinner.
“Is the wedding coordinator running late?”
“Yeah, a little. Of course Auntie Rose is having a mini hissy fit.”
In your head, you thought it was just because she missed her morning mimosa.
“This chapel is pretty secluded so, maybe this lady’s GPS just couldn’t keep up,” Mindi joked. “I wished they’d just do it at the resort.”
“Isn’t this where Jennie’s grandparents got married?” You wondered out loud while looking up at the chapel’s architecture. “I’m sure it holds more meaning for her than the resort.”
“I know, sorry. I just said that because I’m being selfish. I was hoping to bring a date over to karaoke night,” she says, lowering her voice at the last bit.
Your eyes bulge out. “Park Mindi—when did this happen? And who is it?” Before she answered, you came to a late realization.
“Oh…my god. Was it ‘hot bartender’ from bachelorette night?”
She shushed you right away, looking over her shoulder to make sure that her brother was out of earshot.
You giggled amongst yourselves.
“Girl, you’re a grown woman! Who cares what your brother thinks? This isn’t high school.”
She grinned. “I know, I know. It’s just…I think I might really like him. He’s like this strong, silent type…has the cutest, gummiest smile. We’ve been talking since that night. He lives, like, three hours away from me but he says he doesn’t mind driving to come see me.”
“Oh Mindiiii, you’re down bad.”
“I know…and it’s not just because I haven’t had sex in six months, I swear.”
“Mindi!” You playfully scold her. “We are in a house of worship!”
She rolled her eyes. “So? I’m sure they liked sex, too. One way or the other,” she giggled before she turned her attention to Jungkook, who sat on a bench right in front of your dad.
You grinned and gave him a small wave. He pauses his conversation with your dad and waves right back.
Mindi sidles up to you and whispers in your ear. “Come on, there must be something wrong with him. Anything. Like…maybe his dick is crooked or something.”
She awaits your response but when you stay silent, stifling a smile. She groaned. “Ah shit, don’t tell me. It’s fucking perfect. I hate you, unnie,” she grumbled.
******
“Keeping an old man company?”
Jungkook smiles softly at YN’s dad as he settles into an empty pew.
“Yep…it’s all about the women when it comes to these things. The men take a backseat,” he chuckles softly.
“Taehyung seems to be happy letting Jennie take the reins on this one,” Jungkook remarks.
“They’re good for each other–Tyeongie and Jennie. I’ve always told him that when he finds the person who makes his heart happy–never let them go. He really took those words seriously–which is why he just went and proposed to her after seven months,” he laughs.
“Was Taehyung’s mom the one who made your heart happy?”
“Of course,” he beamed. “Unfortunately…our time together on this earth was short. But it doesn’t mean that it was less meaningful. I eventually found another person who made my heart happy for the last couple of decades,” he looked and smiled at YN’s mom from a distance.
Seconds later, he turns wistful.
“I remember when I first met YN. I’d been seeing Rose for a few months and she finally trusted me enough to meet her kid,” he says, shifting his weight and leaning over by the chair in front of him. “So I’m over at her place and this little terror just runs down the hallway,” he shook his head, laughing at the memory.
He threw his hands up. “And that was it. I was a goner! That was the day I gained a daughter.”
Jungkook smiles, briefly imagining YN as this tiny ball of energy running around her mother’s house.
Suddenly, her dad takes a serious tone while looking wistfully up at the altar…at YN and Taehyung. “You know, Jungkook–you think it’s going to get easier as they get older…that you’re going to worry about them less, or that you’re going to trust the world more. But that’s just not how it happens.”
He shifted his eyes and stared at the ground. “I spent many nights thinking about YN after…,” he sighed sullenly before clearing his throat, “…After she moved away. Worrying about her and how awful I felt that I wouldn’t be able to get to her fast enough if or when she needed me. In some small way, I feel like I failed her.”
“Sir, if I may?”
YN’s dad gives him a small nod.
Jungkook looks at him in earnest. “I don’t think she thinks that you failed her–not in the slightest. In fact, she loves you wholeheartedly. You keep her grounded. And–although she doesn’t have your blood running through her veins–you are most definitely ingrained in her whole being.”
Jae smiles warmly at Jungkook. “Thank you, Jungkookie. You’re too kind.”
Jungkook chews at his bottom lip before he says his next statement. “Also–uh…” he says nervously, “This may not make much sense to you right now but–I’d love to get your permission to date your daughter.”
Jae’s eyebrows knit and his lips twitch into a chuckle, his eyes giving off a mischievous glint. “I thought you already were?”
******
After a few run-throughs of the wedding ceremony, there were a few more hours left before the rehearsal dinner and karaoke night. While Taehyung and Jennie rehearsed their choreographed wedding dance, you and Jungkook stepped away for a quiet moment at the beach.
Your conversation started off fairly casual–asking him if he always knew how to dance like he did yesterday while you walked along the shoreline. He says that he took lessons after one of his clients booked him for a themed-ball. He enjoyed it so much that he took a few more to add to his growing ‘repertoire.’
The day was winding down and the afternoon sun wasn’t as scorching hot so you took a moment and decided to sit on a spot on the sand and watched the waves wash in and out.
“Is your name really Jeon Jungkook?”
He laughed loudly, scrunching his nose slightly. “Yes, it is.”
You look at him skeptically. Cristina told you months ago that all of the guys on the app use aliases, to protect their identities. Understandable.
She encouraged you to do the same but you figured it would be incredibly difficult to do that since you’d be around family for this date.
He cleared his throat. “I did go by different aliases before, though,” he admitted.
“What names did you go by?”
He laughed again, recalling the names that he went by. When you booked him, his profile name only indicated a ‘J.’
“I used to go by ‘Justin.’ Justin Siegel.”
You snorted. “You do not look like a ‘Justin’ to me.”
“Aaaaand before that, I went by ‘Ian.’”
Your face twisted in confusion. “‘Ian’?! Why ‘Ian?’”
He chuckled. “I was looking up various personas then. And I happened to be drawn to James Bond so…” he shrugged.
You giggled at him. “Are you serious?”
“What? I was 21…I thought I was hot shit then,” he says.
“Why didn’t you just go with ‘James’?” You said sarcastically.
“Now that would make it too obvious, wouldn’t it? Besides, Bond is merely a character. Flemming created him.”
You nodded. He had a good point.
“And are you really from where you say you are?”
“I am,” he smiled at you.
“And…your parents?”
He sighed. “They’re retired. They spend most of their time traveling these days.”
“Do you have any siblings? You mentioned a cousin before,” you prodded.
“No, I don’t. My parents were workaholics. It was a miracle that they even had me,” he laughs humorlessly.
“Oh…” you said ruefully.
“I was a latchkey kid, growing up. One of my neighbors was really cool–kind of took pity on me and would look in every now and then to make sure I was okay until my parents got home.”
You look at him sullenly.
He notices the sad look on your face. “It’s alright–I’d like to think that I turned out okay.”
You gave him a small smile. “You seem like a good person,” you say to him sincerely. “But is that–” you cleared your throat. “Is that how…you know, you got into–this business?”
He laughed. “Uh–one would think that something like that would push somebody to do unconventional things. But no–that’s not why I got into this.”
“So…why then?”
He sighed. “After I moved out of my parents’ house, I didn’t really know what to do. I worked from one job to another. I was kind of over it…and to be honest, I needed the money. I was too proud to ask my parents for help.”
He paused then clicked his teeth. “And then…one day, I was venting to one of my coworkers. He gave me the lead on this ‘special’ dating app.” He gestured with air quotes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, I had no reason to doubt him. He wasn’t bad looking—he had the dimples going for him, you know?”
You chuckle softly but stayed silent while he continued.
“Anyway, he brought me over to meet the guy behind the app to get me permission so I can get on it. He looked unassuming at first. He looked like an actor with these broad shoulders—but you could tell that he gave off this energy that could tame a brat in seconds.”
They fitted him with a suit and sent him out on his first date. The rest was history.
“But why be an escort? Weren’t you scared or didn’t you feel weird with that job?”
“Honestly, I just did what I had to. The app gives us enough protection. And why be an escort?” He chuckled as he repeated your question. “Women, money, and a good time. I was pretty young…I thought, why not?”
You laughed. You didn’t feel judgmental towards him. You were just curious and found it genuinely fascinating. And you agreed with him. “Right. When you’re young, you’re a lot more adventurous.”
He nods solemnly before clearing his throat. “What about…your real dad?” he asks, treading carefully.
The topic of your dad was no longer a sore spot for you. If anything, it was an ugly but faded scar that had healed. It was there and you didn’t mind talking about it when people asked.
You sighed. “I barely have any contact with him,” you began matter-of-factly. “He left me and my mom when I was really young. He came by my school once to try and explain things but–I didn’t really understand what was going on. He reached out to me again after high school. A valiant effort on his part but, at that point, my stepdad had long filled that emptiness in my life,” you say.
“Anyway, he sends the occasional greeting card and I do the same,” you shrugged then smiled wryly.
You haven’t talked about your dad in years. Even when you were still with Haru, he didn’t really ask about him much. You figured Taehyung already gave him a heads up about it being an awkward topic for you since you were younger so he never really pressed you.
It felt somewhat natural just talking to Jungkook about it…about anything, really. In a span of days, you felt more of an open book to him compared to years with Haru. In the back of your mind, you had a feeling that maybe Jungkook felt the same while he shared bits about himself with you.
You paused for a beat, considering your next question. “Do you think we’re crossing a line?”
He regards you intently. “Which line is that?” In all honesty, it seemed like a dumb question to ask as you were fully aware that you had, in fact, crossed the line with him. Several times last night…and twice this morning before coming down for breakfast.
You sighed deeply. “I assume by now you’ve guessed that I’m a bit of an overthinker-slash-overanalyzer. It is part of my day job so it’s hard to fall out of it when it comes to living my normal life.”
He chuckled softly.
“I just…” you caught your lower lip with your teeth. “I know that our time together is almost over and I guess…I’ve suddenly made the unconscious decision to get to know you–”
“You mean ‘we,’” he corrected. “We decided to get to know each other.”
You couldn’t help but think that you were going through this process backward. Have the sex first, and then get to know each other? It wasn’t even supposed to be this way. You brought him as sort of a human shield to protect you from your family’s ‘concerns’ and ultimately show up Haru.
You gave him a small smile. “I feel…” You struggled to get the words out of your mouth. “I’m fully aware that we started off with this business arrangement and I don’t…I don’t want to invade your privacy, so to speak.”
“Why would you think you’d be invading my privacy? I’m answering your questions, being open to you…”
You shrugged. “And I appreciate that. I just can’t help but…feel a little sad.”
“How come?” His brows knit in confusion.
You stare at him for a bit–wanting to just come out with it but you lose your nerve and shook your head softly “It’s stupid,” you say dismissively before turning your head away. Quite the pivot from the YN who practically seduced him to get in bed with you last night.
You felt like you were being such an idiot about it or that it was all just in your head but…waking up this morning to him felt different. Admittedly, you were scared to lean into these feelings. Because, if it turns out that you had completely misread him and you leaned in too far—you’d fall without anyone there to catch you. And it will hurt. A lot.
“Okay, now you have me curious,” he presses on. “Tell me. I won’t laugh, I promise,” he says seriously. “Why do you feel sad?”
You clicked your teeth and released a shaky breath. “Because…I’m getting to know you now but then…after this, I won’t get to see you again,” you admit quietly.
He turns his head away briefly and lets out a soft chuckle.
You rolled your eyes. “See? I knew it–it was stupid,” you say, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m not laughing because of that, I swear,” he says.
“Yes, but you’re laughing at me,” you say with a hint of annoyance.
“I swear, I’m not,” he says seriously.
“Then why are you laughing?” You finally ask him.
He looks you straight in the eye before responding. “Because–I feel the exact same way,” he reveals. “I’ve never gotten to know anybody like you.”
Now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows at him and roll your eyes. “Shut up,” you chuckled at what you thought was an attempt at flattery.
“I’m serious,” he insists. “I do feel sad, too.” He lets out an incredibly deep sigh. “I’ve…always had this…perimeter I’ve built around myself. Everything I’ve ever done in the last few years–I’ve never gone beyond that because of the nature of this business. Women hire me to put up an illusion. For me to fulfill that, I had to come up with a persona that was separate from my reality. And that was part of the reason why I decided to take a step back from this whole thing.”
“Why did you take a step back?” You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your head on them, listening to him intently.
He sighed. “I got tired of being who other people wanted me to be. It gets old after some time. And there was something that my last client said to me–at the funeral,” he clarifies.
Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you recalled him answering your question about the ‘oddest’ booking he’s ever had.
“It was a weird setup for me at first and I was really close to canceling until we got to talking. She told me that she and her husband met each other really late in life–they had no children. When he was gone, she felt more alone than she did all those years before she met him.”
“Oh my–that’s…tragic,” you commented.
“It is, but she gave me some really good advice. She said that…she hasn’t had many regrets in life except for one–and that was, not meeting her husband soon enough. Everyone is entitled to experience real love at least once in their life.” He paused to stare off into the horizon as the sun began to set.
“It just made me think…maybe I wanted something like that for myself, too.” He says it in earnest–like somebody who still closed their eyes to make a wish right before they blew out their birthday candles.
“And…have you found it?” You asked carefully.
“Maybe,” he says vaguely. “Funny enough, I received almost the same advice today from somebody else,” he says with a smile.
You recall a moment when you saw him and your dad chatting at the chapel this morning while you and the others were going through the ceremony’s run-through. You never thought to ask Jungkook what they talked about.
“Is this why you never do weddings? Because it brings out all of these sentimental thoughts?”
He threw his head back and laughed heartily. “In a way, I guess? Personally, I feel like it’s the most difficult setting to try and fake your way to being in love.”
“Why’s that?”
He shrugs noncommittally. “People look at the couple and they automatically try to project their hopes and dreams towards them,” he says with a hint of cynicism.
You scoffed. “And you being the guy who’s built a perimeter around himself–don’t want to project any of those hopes and dreams?”
He threw his hands up in the air and lifted his shoulders. “What can I say? It’s bad for business,” he said with a chuckle.
You laughed. “So–I have to ask…when you quit, what did you do? Did you just sit around or–got a boring old desk job or something?”
He gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, I’ve got a job–it’s not at a desk and certainly not boring.”
You stared at him silently for a few seconds, more intrigued than ever. “Well? What’s with the whole mystery? What’s your day job?”
He snorted. “You’re going to laugh but–I’m actually–”
“YN! Jungkook!”
Both your heads whip around to see Jimin run out from the patio calling out for you.
“Geez, neither of you was picking up your phones! It’s almost time for dinner. Are you guys good? The shuttles will come to pick us up soon so you both need to hustle if you need to wash up or anything like that.”
“Oh shit,” you said. “I didn’t realize what time it was!” You pulled your phone out and realized that the network coverage was little to none out by the beach. You still had to shower and pull yourself together–the last part of your conversation, all but forgotten.
Jungkook gets up quickly and stretches his hand out to help you up. You dust the sand off your butt and your palms before starting back toward the hotel.
“I’ll see you guys at the lobby in half an hour,” Jimin says as he turns on his heel and walks back indoors.
After yelling out your thanks to him, Jungkook put his hand on the small of your back as you both walked through the sand and back up indoors.
You turned to him. “Thanks for the conversation,” you say to him.
“It was my pleasure. And thank you as well,” he says. “Would you be weirded out if I said that I was going to miss this?”
You gasped softly and felt your cheeks heat up. “Not at all. I’m…going to miss it, too. I’d miss you, I think.”
“You think?” He says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.
You roll your eyes. “Okay, yes–I will miss you,” you shove his arm playfully.
He chuckles. “Good, because I won’t just miss this… I’ll miss you, too.”
You both turn quiet all of a sudden. Now, it felt like the longest walk back to the hotel ever. As you approach the elevators, he clears his throat before his next question takes you aback.
“So, is anybody picking you up from the airport on Sunday? You know, when we get back?”
“No, I was just going to take a cab or call a rideshare.”
“I, uh…happened to park in the long-term lot.” He says nonchalantly as he pushes the ‘up’ button. “I don’t mind giving you a lift.”
You chuckled at the thought. Why turn down a free ride? The airport was always hell anyway on Sundays. “Sure,“ you say just as casually.
“It’s the least I could do, you know,” he mumbles.
“Yeah…that sounds…efficient,” you say, trying to stifle a grin while you watch the numbers on the top screen wind down closer to the lobby.
“Right. And…speaking of efficiency…maybe if you’re hungry, we can go grab dinner or something,” adds sheepishly.
You turn and look at him pointedly. His expression changes into a worrisome one and he tries to walk his comments back. “I mean–only…only if you want to–”
“Well, it’s a long flight back and I hate airline food,” you interrupted him. “A proper dinner would be nice,” you said with a small smile.
Seconds later, you both break into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry…I’m not usually this bad,” he says apologetically, between laughs while slowly reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.
“You did just fine,” you smiled as you walked into the elevator cab. “I promise I’ll leave it off your rating,” you teased as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.
“You like Italian food?” he asks, visibly relaxing.
“Eh, just bring me to a place that serves good galbi and I’m happy.”
“Perfect,” he says, beaming as the doors shut.
This was not the same man who made your stomach drop that day he showed up on the plane. That man was an illusion. A figment of what he thought women fantasize about. Admittedly, he was everything you thought a perfect guy would be. An unattainable expectation.
For a moment, a memory of your drunken night flashes in your mind.
Are you real?
Tonight, he sure felt and looked like it.
******
After a quick shower, you both pulled yourselves together in record time. Dressing in the same room, exchanging glances, watching as the other put an item of clothing on—while at the same time imagining taking it off later tonight.
He reaches for his tie and drapes it around his neck. As he grabbed either side, preparing to cross his hand over, you sauntered over and offered to tie it for him.
He knew how to tie his own tie. You’ve watched him do it in the last few days. Instead of declining, he releases his hold on the silky material, drops his hands at his sides, and lets you.
You just needed an excuse to be close to him. He watched amusingly while you carefully looped the material. It wasn’t long before you felt his hands snake up your sides, resting on your hips.
When you were ready, you held onto the knotted portion at the top and pulled at the bottom to tighten it around his neck. Once you got to the base of his neck and before you pulled it any tighter, you asked him, “Nice and tight?”
He smirked at you, remembering your little shoe-moment from the lobby a couple days ago. “Just the way I like it.”
You smiled back at him, folded his collar, securing the points to the buttons.
“Thank you,” he mouthed. “My pleasure,” you replied, sliding your hands slowly down his chest before wrenching away from him.
“Hold on,” he says darkly.
You turned back around to see him slowly advancing towards you. You arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity.
His arms snakes around your waist, pulling you back close to him again to kiss you.
When he pulls away, his hand is already making quick work of undoing his belt. “J-Jungkook, we need be downstairs in 15–”
“I know,” he interjects while pulling a condom out of his back pocket. “I just need 7 minutes–max.” He holds the packet between his teeth, hand already pulling up the hem of your skirt to slide his finger past your panties.
“Fuck it,” you muttered as you wiggled out of your panties, turning around for him and pulling your skirt up past your waist. You let out a low growl when you felt him shove his cock into you from behind.
******
Jimin eyed you both suspiciously when you stepped out of the elevator–with two minutes to spare. You and Jungkook giggled and exchanged looks during the whole ride to the restaurant. He decided that this was something that he didn’t need to ask to know what it was all about.
There was a short cocktail reception while staff finished setting up the banquet room for family and the wedding party. Compared to the week’s previous events, which included all guests, the rehearsal dinner was much more intimate and only included family, the wedding party, and their respective dates.
“Are you ready for the big day tomorrow, Tae? Nervous?”
He smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. “Not at all,” he says. “I’m…oddly very calm about everything.”
“Really?”
He nods in earnest. “Really. Is it wrong to feel that way?”
You laugh softly at him. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to feel. If you feel relaxed and assured–then that is the right feeling for you.”
“‘Assured.’ I like that word,” he says quietly.
“Have you written your vows?” Jungkook chimes in.
“I tried,” Taehyung says. “But–I feel like I’d rather just speak from the heart, you know? I know how I feel about Jennie and it’s hard for me to put all that into words because…that could all change.”
Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Change in what way?”
“Oh, not like that,” he says with a laugh. “No–I mean…it’s kind of corny but each day that passes, I never love her the same way I did the previous day. I think that my love for her just grows and evolves. And tomorrow, when we’re standing face to face at that altar, I want to tell her how much I love her that day, right in that moment…rather than read off something that I’m not feeling anymore.” He finishes with one of his boxy smiles.
You stared at your brother in awe–eyes watering at how deeply he felt for his soon-to-be wife.
“Oh, Taehyungie,” your voice quavered as you hugged him.
“That’s…wow…I couldn’t have said it better myself, man.” Jungkook remarked.
You pulled away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Yes, seriously. My God! Jennie is one lucky woman.”
Taehyung gets all shy, shoving a hand in his pocket, and shrugs his shoulders. ”I’m marrying the girl of my dreams. Everything is…just the way it’s supposed to be. The only thing I wished I could change is–I wish I could marry her right this second,” he laughed.
“Well–it will come soon enough, Tyeongie,” you smiled at him.
“Do you want another drink, YN?”
“Uhh…just a club soda, please. I’d rather we get some food in first before I have another glass. I know for sure Mindi and Jiminie will want the alcohol flowing for karaoke later,” you mumbled.
He nodded. “Tae, can I get you anything?”
He declines, saying that he was good with his bottled water for now.
“Alright. I’ll be right back,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on the lips before walking away.
Taehyung groaned. “At least Jiminie is in control of alcohol. He knows everyone’s limits–including dad,” he says.
You sighed. “He’s really been into the merriment this whole week,” you pointed out.
“Yeah,” he says in a low voice. “I’m just glad that he’s happy…he’s letting loose. Next week, he’s going back to his usual diet,” he chuckled.
“Well…he’s not getting any younger,” you say.
“True.” He then looks over your shoulder to find your dad calling him over. “Speaking of–I think he needs me. I’ll catch you in a few, ‘kay?’”
You smiled as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” you replied, watching him walk away.
You had all but a few seconds of quiet when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice.
You turned around to look. “Hi, Haru.”
“Hey,” he says quietly. “How’s your week going?”
Bit of a weird start to this conversation but you hoped it would be short and Jungkook would be back at your side soon. “Great! And you?”
He bobs his head in an awkward nod. “Pretty good. I feel like–this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time.”
You let out a dry laugh. “I guess you could say that. I’m…a bit preoccupied, as you can see.”
“Yes, I see that,” he says under his breath. He then shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “Listen, uhm…I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
You gave him a wry smile. “About?”
He cleared his throat again. “You know how…one thinks that they have a good grasp on what you’re supposed to do and what you’re not supposed to do—but then…as it turns out, one discovers that it’s hard to discern between those things after some deep reflection and such…because…it’s…uhm…sorry, a-are you following?” he stuttered.
You grimaced then sighed in exasperation. “Haru, what exactly are you trying to say?”
“I…” he lets out a shallow breath. “I feel that I…I need to tell you—“
He stopped short as he watched your eyes shift away from him. You smiled as you looked over his shoulder and Jungkook came into view.
“YN, you’re not listening to me,” Haru mutters in frustration.
“Haru,” you cut him off, turning your attention back to him. “You know what? It doesn’t really matter,” you say dismissively.
“W-what?”
You chuckled softly. “I’ll admit, I brought Jungkook here, mainly to torture you…slowly. Make you feel how I felt all that time…”
His eyebrows knitted at you. “I—“
“It just made me realize that I’m so sick and tired of us now.” Your eyes flick over to Jungkook, who stood a few feet away. You smiled at him and he smiled back at you. “…And that I could do so much better.”
You turn to Haru once more. “I hope you have a good rest of the night.” You pat him on the chest before sidestepping him to walk back toward Jungkook.
You stopped right in front of him as he regarded you. “Was he giving you trouble?”
“I handled it,” you said confidently.
“Are you alright?”
You took another step closer to him, pressing your body against his. You tilted your chin up at him. “I’m good. Better, actually,” you uttered.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says right before he meets you halfway and places a chaste kiss on your lips.
“Let’s go and take our seats?”
He nods and smiles while you walk towards your table hand-in-hand. You see him look back at Haru briefly. He looked lost and miserable. But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. You were ready to move forward with your life.
******
“Alright, alright—everyone!” Your dad taps on his champagne glass to call the room’s attention.
“I uh–ahem,” he coughed. “Sorry about that–” he coughed again.
“Oof. I apologize.” He struggled to take a deep breath as if trying to fill his lungs desperately.
He huffed then smiled again. “Alright, now I’m ready.”
The room laughs.
“I just wanted to thank you all for being here. The wedding party, our family and closest friends—to celebrate Jennie and Taehyung. You’ve all been very supportive of them from the beginning and it makes me happy to know that these two have a great support system going into their marriage.”
While you watch and listen to your dad, you lean back against Jungkook. He places a kiss on your bare shoulder and then on your hair before nuzzling into it.
“You need that in life. A great support system. Doesn’t necessarily have to be family…but just a group of people or a person who loves you for everything that you are…flaws and all. And you love them just the same.”
His words felt surreal. It made you turn your head to face Jungkook.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you smiled. “I’m just glad that you’re here with me.”
He smiled back. “Me, too.”
You leaned in and kissed him softly, before turning your attention back to the head of the table.
Whatever line you had drawn between you two, that was long gone even before you agreed to spend time with him after this trip. You knew that already but had only come to accept that fact now.
“And finally, to Jennie and Taehyung,” he turns to the couple.
“Take care of each other. And always remember, we love you both, from the bottom of our—“
Your dad stopped short, bulging his eyes out, mouth agape as if the air had been sucked out of the room.
Something was not right.
“Jae? Darling?” Your mom grabs his wrist.
He turned to her, white as a ghost before he collapsed to the floor. Your mom yelps as she tries to break his fall.
“Dad!” You and Taehyung exclaim simultaneously, scrambling to get to him.
“Dad, dad!” Taehyung taps on his cheek.
“Dad,” you squeeze his hand and his fingertips. They were cold as ice.
You knew he hadn’t been feeling well. All the drinking and binge-eating this week haven’t helped. He was happy, just being around family…he was in a celebratory mood. Perhaps he went a little too hard trying to keep up with everyone.
“Jungkook, Jungkook–please, please, help my dad–please!” Taehyung, on the verge of tears, begs him.
You glance at Jungkook and visibly panic–not just because of your dad possibly having suffered a stroke or a heart attack but because you remembered that you made up a cover story about your fake boyfriend being an actual doctor.
Fuck.
“Uh–T-Tae, we should call an–” you say in a rush but Jungkook already springs into action and is at your dad’s side in an instant. He straightens your dad’s arms and legs and makes sure that he’s flat on his back. He calls your dad’s name twice–no response. He taps on his collarbone a few times–no response. He puts his forefinger and middle and presses it to his neck to check for a pulse.
“He has a pulse but it’s weak,” he says.
He looks up to your brother. “Taehyung, can you ask the staff if they have a defibrillator here?” While Taehyung runs off to find a staff member, Jungkook undoes his cuffs quickly and rolls them up, ripping your dad’s shirt open and tearing his undershirt down the middle with his bare hands.
“What medication is he on?” He asks you and your mom.
You were frozen and in shock, trying to figure out why he started asking about your dad’s medical history as if he would know what to do with it. Your mom quickly rattled off a list of your dad’s meds along with the dosage.
“Has he missed any of them this week? Some of those you have to take in tandem,” he says.
“He…he told me did but said he took them as soon as he remembered,” your mom trailed off.
He nodded before turning his attention to you. “Baby, I need you to call an ambulance, now.”
His voice barely registers in your head but he reaches across to grab onto your wrist firmly, which knocks you back to the present. “YN–I need you to focus, please. Call an ambulance,” he says firmly.
You nod absently, getting up off the floor and retrieving your phone off the table to dial the emergency number.
You and everyone else watch in shock as Jungkook laces his fingers, placing them on your dad’s bare chest to start compressions. You are extremely befuddled and frozen on the spot as the whole scene unfolds in front of you.
You speak to the emergency dispatch operator, almost robotically as you watch Jungkook get to work. After confirming that an ambulance and first responders are on the way, they ask you to stay on the line to describe your dad’s condition.
Taehyung runs out with the restaurant manager, bringing the automated external defibrillator. “Here, they have one–”
“Okay–I need you–to continue compressions. Can you do that for me?” Jungkook asks Taehyung in between counts.
“Yeah, I-I mean, yes–” Taehyung answers shakily as he kneels down to take over Jungkook, taking over CPR, showing him the correct rhythm of compressions.
Once Taehyung gets the hang of it, Jungkook opens the AED case and glances up at you –wide-eyed with your mouth agape.
He grimaces internally, thinking he’d explain this all to you once he’s at least helped stabilize your dad or when emergency first responders arrive–whichever comes first.
Jungkook pulls out the pads from the case while the AED pack gives automated voice prompts–which he ignores because it looked like he didn’t need further instructions. He encourages Taehyung to continue chest compressions.
He peels the protective backing on each pad and carefully sticks them on your dad’s chest–one right below his right shoulder and on his left side.
Evaluating heart rhythm… the machine prompts.
“Okay, Taehyung, stand back,” Jungkook holds his arms out. “Stand clear.” He says loudly–not just for you and your mom but for everyone in the room to hear.
Stand by. Preparing to shock.
“Clear!” He says again.
Do not touch the patient.
“Clear!”
Delivering shock.
Jungkook puts his hands up as the machine beeps loudly several times, making you flinch as you watch in horror.
Shock delivered. Provide chest compressions and rescue breaths.
He tilts your dad’s chin up and resumes chest compressions. After he blows into your dad’s mouth he shifts and continues compressions again. Not long after, your dad lets out an audible gasp of air–which you, Taehyung, and your mother let out as well.
Moving quickly, Jungkook puts him in a recovery position, rolling him on his left side with one leg bent, an arm across his chest while the other is on his cheek to keep his airway open.
“You’re gonna be okay…you’ll be okay…help is coming. Just hang in there,” he whispers to your dad. Your mom rests her hand on your dad’s leg and lets out a sob.
Just then, emergency personnel rush in, telling everyone to clear the way as they attend to your dad. Jungkook rises as the EMTs take over. As you comfort your mother, you watch him fill in the lead, letting her know that an electric shock was deployed but that he still had to do chest compressions afterward. You also thought that he vaguely mentioned the word ‘tachycardia’ and that your dad will probably need ‘push epi.’ These were terms that you’ve only heard in medical dramas.
Since your mother was distraught, Jungkook beckons Taehyung to give them a rundown of your dad’s medical history. You watch as a second EMT injects your dad with the ‘epi’ that Jungkook referred to. Seconds later, your dad blinks his eyes open.
You, Taehyung, and your mom rush to him but the EMT warns you not to crowd him as he could be destabilized at any point before he gets to the hospital.
The other EMT asks who would like to ride along in the ambulance. There was only room for one.
“Ma, you should go,” you urged her. She was on autopilot. You’d never seen her this frantic before.
She nods absently while the EMTs roll the gurney through the room. While you all follow them out of the restaurant, you vaguely hear Jungkook’s conversation with the EMT as you pass them.
The lead EMT turns back to Jungkook. “Hey, would you like to ride along with us, too? Maybe it would comfort him to have someone who’s family and a professional as well.”
“Ah, thanks for the offer. I have to go see my girl first but I’m sure he’s in great hands now.”
“Alright. Thanks for getting to him quickly. He should feel very lucky that you were there,” they utter before shaking his hand.
He nods, mouthing something inaudible.
You walk with your mom, Taehyung, and Jennie following behind. You watch them load the stretcher to the back of the ambulance followed by your mom climbing up.
The EMT connects your dad to a few monitors hooked up in the ambulance to monitor his vitals.
He blinks lazily at you and Taehyung, slowly tapping himself right above his chest. It was his sign of telling you both that he’d be okay.
The second EMT shuts the doors and tells you which hospital they would be transporting him to before hopping into the driver seat and heading out.
As the sound of the sirens fades away, Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair. “Shit…uh—I uh, have dad’s spare keys to the Jag back at the hotel. Do you want to come with me to the hospital?” He asks you.
“Uh…” You look at Jennie, who’s in shock, wondering if she’d rather go to comfort Taehyung.
“Yeah, you and Tae should go. I’ll stay with my parents and let everyone know what’s going on,” she says.
You nodded absently. “O-okay. You’re sure?”
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll ask Mindi to help me get everyone settled.”
You felt bad that Jennie had to deal with this on the night before her wedding. No bride would ever dream that something like this could or would happen. But she was trying to put on a brave face for Taehyung.
“Do you and Tae want to take one of the shuttles back to the hotel to get your dad’s car? I’m sure we can try to squeeze everyone into the other or–”
“Or some of us can wait a bit, too–for a second trip back,” Jungkook interrupts quietly as he joins you all by the front.
You almost forgot about his heroic efforts minutes ago.
“I can help round up everyone, Jennie, if you want?” She nodded in gratitude.
Just then, Taehyung rushes to him and hugs him tightly. “Thank you, Jungkook.” He lets out a sob.
“I just did what I had to do,” Jungkook mutters.
When Taehyung pulls away, he turns to you once more. “You want to head out soon, YN?”
“Y-yeah, I just need to talk to Jungkook for a second, if that’s okay. I won’t take long, I promise.”
Taehyung nods and walks off with Jennie.
When you were alone, you turned to Jungkook. “Sorry, let me ex–” You threw your hands up around him before he could finish–which took him completely by surprise. You sob into his chest as he rubs your back to comfort you.
“Hey…hey…” he says soothingly in your ear. “He’ll be okay. We got to him quickly. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He wasn’t actually sure of that but he wanted to comfort you so badly.
You pull away from him. “Oh my god–if…if you weren’t there–I don’t…I don’t know–” you sobbed.
“Sshh…He’ll be fine. They just need to run some tests. The EMTs said that we acted fast and that makes a huge difference in situations like this,” he says, wiping your tears away.
“But…how? H-how did you…d-did you take CPR classes? Have you watched a lot of medical dramas?”
You watched as his face changed. He caught his lips with his teeth–considering his answer. “So…I’ve been meaning to tell you earlier–before we got interrupted…you know, when you asked about my day job?”
“A-and?” The suspense was killing you.
“I’m…a doctor,” he says slowly, his lips twisting in a wry smile.
Then your jaw dropped.
◤Previous | Part 8◥ | Main Fic Masterlist
Thank you for reading!
If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn't like it so much, I would still like to hear about it 💜
\ kō-ˈket
Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.
Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader
Rating: M (🔞)
Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Total word count: 77,727K words
Status: Completed ✅
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapters): cussing; explicit sexual conversations; hints of awkward family dynamic; fake-dating; hired escort; some anxiety; alcohol consumption
Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N: This is loosely inspired by The Wedding Date (2004) but with a slight twist. If you know the movie, I hope you'll still read along. I have a habit of getting prompts from random movies or shows that I revisit and then find some details that I'd like to switch up for my own personal wish-fulfillment bank so, I hope it does the same for yours as well! 😊
Comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩--I love hearing from readers!
Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; protected sex
Word count: 5.2k words
Summary: You and Seungcheol are navigating co-parenting when you cut your son's camping trip short. As old routines resurface and lines blur, a moment of vulnerability leads you from a tentative goodbye to an impulsive reconnection.
A/N: Coming out of my writing rut with another Cheol fic? With yet another laundry reference? Who am I??? 😂 Idk. I blame Cheol brainrot (per uze). Plus, the storm out here is getting to me, and I needed an outlet. Hope you all like it!
Tagging @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs. You're a gem! And @yoongukie-ff, because I mentioned writing this fic that would make her suffer lol
The last text came over an hour ago: Already left the campsite, don’t worry. But the flash-flood alert that lit up your screen minutes ago has your stomach in knots. It’s a two-hour drive—1.5 if he books it—which he usually does. Today, you’d begged him to stick to the speed limit. It’s the first storm in months, making the roads slick and unpredictable.
Any minute now… you said to yourself.
A car pulled into the driveway and your body jolted. You snatched the umbrella you’d propped by the door earlier and rushed outside.
Seungcheol moved quickly, unbuckling your son from his car seat. He barely stirred as the three of you huddled under the umbrella and hurried back toward the house.
Inside, your son shifted in Seungcheol’s arms, murmuring something with his cheek still pressed to his dad’s shoulder.
“Shit…his bag—”
“I got it. Just take him to his room,” you called over your shoulder, already heading back out.
When you returned, Seungcheol was crouched by the bed, easing your son’s shoes off. You headed straight for the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Skipping his bedtime bath made you wince, especially after camping. He smelled like campfire smoke and wet dirt. Lord knows if he’d had a proper shower in the last two days.
Tonight you let it go. There was no use waking him up, and you could always wash the sheets in the morning.
He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two. But the storm shifted course overnight, and was headed straight for the camping ground area. You’d called Seungcheol this morning, asking him to pack up early. Surprisingly, he hadn’t argued.
“He conked out right away,” he whispered. “Didn’t even make it past the park exit.”
“Sounds like he had a lot of fun,” you said, then paused. “Sorry I had to cut it short. I know he’s been looking forward to this trip all month.”
“No, no—it’s fine, really. Better safe than sorry.”
Redressing your sleeping son was a delicate balancing act. His limbs hung limp, head heavy against his dad’s chest, making every movement challenging. You reached for the hem of his shirt, and Seungcheol instinctively shifted his grip, steadying your son’s upper body so you could peel the fabric away. Your fingers brushed his as you tugged the sleeve free, and for a moment, neither of you pulled away.
You moved around each other without speaking, with Seungcheol adjusting his hold, and you working quickly to replace dirty clothes with clean ones. A hand on your wrist to help guide a pant leg. Panicked glances when your son stirred. It was a routine you hadn’t shared in a while, but it came back easily. Like muscle memory.
Once changed, Seungcheol gently laid him down. But the moment his head hit the pillow, his eyes fluttered open, bleary and disoriented.
“Mommy?” he croaked drowsily.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re home,” you murmured, brushing his hair back. “Go back to sleep.”
Seungcheol leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Love you, bud. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
Strangely, that made him more alert now. “Wait—where are you going?”
“Daddy has to go,” you said gently.
“Go where?”
He was still half-asleep, you told yourself. He knows this routine. “To his house.”
“No, don’t go. Please?” he begged, clutching his father’s wrist.
You forced a smile, smoothing his hair again. “Sweetheart, he has a long drive back, and I bet he’s tired. You’ll stay with him the whole week next week though.”
“Noooo, I want you both,” he insisted, voice cracking. “Please?”
You glanced at Seungcheol, torn. He gave a small shrug, already lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.
“I can stay a few more minutes,” he told him tentatively, then turned his gaze to you. “If…that’s okay with mommy?”
You sighed, then nodded. “Just until you fall asleep.” Your son squealed softly, eyes already fluttering shut in relief.
You settled opposite Seungcheol. Your son reached out and grabbed both your hands in a death grip—just in case one of you tried to slip away before he was fully asleep.
You hummed softly, threading your fingers through your son’s hair. Seungcheol flicked the nightlight switch, and the room was instantly filled with glowing constellations. You remembered when your son unwrapped it for his birthday—how he gasped in wonder, then whispered, It’s like camping…but inside. The memory elicited a quiet laugh from you.
Seungcheol caught the sound and glanced over. His eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something he hadn’t in a long time. Something he forgot he missed.
Eventually, your son’s grip loosened. His face was peaceful again, lashes matching his dad’s resting against his cheeks. You eased your hand free, and Seungcheol did the same, rising first. You followed behind, pausing at the doorway for one last look before pulling the door closed.
In the kitchen, Seungcheol was rubbing his eyes. He looked away mid-yawn when he saw you coming down the hallway.
“Coffee?”
He hesitated. “I don’t want to impose—”
“Not at all. I offered,” you said, already reaching for the mugs. “Besides, I’d rather you not fall asleep on the drive home. Especially in this weather.”
He nodded, then smiled faintly.
You set a mug beneath the dispenser. “Still take it the same way?”
He was caught off-guard at the question, but eventually nodded slowly.
You handed him the mug, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, as the storm hummed steadily outside. Standing opposite each other in the kitchen wrapped in silence.
Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward the hallway as he took a sip. “He’s getting so big. He was so excited to help me set up the tent.”
“Interesting.” You leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. “Last time you let him help, he got tangled in the rainfly and cried for twenty minutes. I thought you were going to throw him into the river,” you snorted.
He clicked his teeth, rolling his eyes at the accusation. “I was not going to throw him,” he muttered, but his smile faded. “I had a short fuse back then. I’m working on it.”
He swirled the coffee in his mug, then chuckled. “He’s just a very strong-willed kid. Like someone I know…” He arched his brow at you.
You shrugged, feigning innocence. “It builds character!”
“Yeah, no shit.” His laugh was soft, but tired.
You sipped your coffee, watching the way he stared into his mug, thumb tracing the rim.
“He asked if we could all go next time.”
You let out a small laugh. “Did you tell him no?”
“I said maybe.” He paused, eyes still on the mug. “He said he missed when we did things together.”
The words settled between you. You nodded slowly, unsure what to do with that. And tonight was hardly the moment to unpack it. “I think he just misses the idea of it.” Your eyes dropped to the floor.
“Sometimes I miss it too.” His voice came so quietly, as if he didn’t mean to say his thoughts out loud. You took a few beats before answering.
“I mostly miss the parts that didn’t hurt.” The words cut deeper than you intended. You weren’t trying to be cruel, just honest.
As much as you wished your son could grow up with both parents under one roof, you and Seungcheol knew that wasn’t possible. Not without reopening wounds that hadn’t fully healed. For all the things you disagreed on, there was one thing you had agreed on: you wanted your son to be happy. And in order to make that happen, you would not raise him in a warzone.
He nodded, quietly acknowledging.
He glanced at the clock behind you, cleared his throat. “I should probably get going.”
You watched him drain the last sip, then move towards the sink.
“Cheol, just leave it.” You tried to intercept him, but he was already rinsing his mug clean.
“Nah, I got it.” He set the mug on the rack and wiped his hands on his pants before heading toward the door. You rolled your eyes at the gesture, but bit your tongue. That’s not your job anymore, you reminded yourself then followed him toward the front door.
He paused at the threshold. “Thanks for the coffee.”
His hand hovered near the door latch, the other tucked into his pocket like he was restraining himself from reaching for you. His jaw tightened and shoulders lifted slightly, as if bracing against a familiar pull.
It had taken months of therapy to stand this close without recoiling. To be in the same room without wanting to rip each other’s head off. Still, tonight felt different. Heavier. Like something was pressing in from the edges.
You gave a small nod. “Drive safe,” you said automatically.
“Yeah.” His mouth tugged faintly, somewhere between a smile and a sigh.
“You should go before the wind picks up.” It was a half-hearted nudge, more suggestion than insistence.
“Guess I should.” But he didn’t move.
His gaze drifted—not to your eyes this time, but lower, to your mouth. You felt it again, that subtle shift in the air.
You looked away first, clearing your throat, but the tension didn’t ease. You swallowed hard. “Goodnight.”
“‘Night,” he echoed. He shifted his weight, hesitating—then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. You felt the uncertainty of his hold, but once you leaned in, it settled into something familiar.
It’s just muscle memory, you convinced yourself.
Your hands found the back of his jacket, and for a moment, you let yourself rest there. Into that nook between his chest, the warmth from it, the steady thrum of his pulse beating…It all came rushing back. The ache beneath. Not quite yearning, but something close to it. A whisper of what used to live between you, before the fights, before the silence. Before it all fell apart.
His hold slightly tightened, making you wonder if he felt it too.
He pulled back slowly, reluctantly. Then he opened the door. The cool air slipped in, and you flinched—not from the sudden chill, but from the thought of letting that door close behind him.
“Cheol!” His name tumbled out before you could stop it.
He turned immediately, brows furrowed.
Heart racing, you took a step, close enough to hear the subtle hitch in his breath.
Before your brain could process, your hand lifted, brushing along his jawline. His lashes fluttered, leaning into your touch instinctively.
But logic cut through. You shouldn’t reach for him. You shouldn’t want him. You just…shouldn’t.
You shook your head and stepped back. “Sorry. I… I need to stop.”
He caught your wrist, his hold gentle but firm. “Is that what you want?”
What you wanted was to talk yourself out of this.
He moved closer, crowding your space, whispering, “Tell me to stop.”
But the words wouldn’t come. You were standing at the edge of a cliff, telling yourself not to jump, and yet your body leaned forward anyway.
“Don’t.”
His arm banded around your waist, pulling you against him as his mouth claimed yours. No hesitation left—only the inevitable you’d been running from. He broke the kiss long enough to kick the door shut, the lock clicking into place.
And then you’re freefalling.
***********************
His lips crashed against yours, with raw, desperate hunger that took your breath away. Your hands flew to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer in response.
Every step toward the bedroom was careful, breaths ragged but hushed—the kind of restraint born from not wanting to wake your son.
A loose floorboard betrayed you. It gave a sharp, sudden creak beneath Seungcheol’s foot, making you both go still. You both held your breaths, listening for any stirring from across the narrow hallway.
Nothing. Just the long stretch of silence.
Relief flickered, and desire resumed. Your fingers curled at his nape, tugging him back down to your mouth.
You moved again, a tangle of limbs and mouths stumbling through the dark hallway. The sound of the bedroom latch barely registered before you spun him, shoving him backward until he fell onto the mattress with a laugh. He barely had a moment to sit up before you were straddling him, settling into his lap and claiming his mouth again. It was as if the last two years had been erased. Just this—the heated, possessive slide of his tongue against yours, so intoxicating it made you ache with the regret of ever letting it go. His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks with a tenderness that made your chest hurt, your body molding to his like it had never left.
Your mouth broke from his, trailing a path of wet kisses down the column of his throat. You nipped at his collarbone, and he arched into you. His hands slid down your spine, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He ground his hard length against the ache blooming between your legs.
“A little eager, are we?” you teased, your voice breathless.
“I don’t want to play games,” he rasped, his hand already sliding under your shirt to palm your breast, the material of your bra a rough tease against your skin. He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you?”
You shook your head, a shaky breath escaping you. With a dark smirk, he peeled your shirt off, his movements sure. Your bra followed, his fingers expertly working the clasp. He leaned back, his gaze raking over you, hungry and unabashed.
You cleared your throat. “My eyes are up here, sir,” you joked, though your voice was weaker than you intended.
He chuckled softly. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with awe.
The warmth that spread through your chest was dangerous, a feeling you couldn’t afford tonight. What you needed was raw, not soft. The cool air on your bare skin was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of his mouth as it closed over a peaked nipple. You gasped, your back bowing as your fingers knotted in his hair. His tongue swirled and teased, his teeth grazing the sensitive tip with just enough pressure to make you whimper. Shocks of pleasure ricocheted through you, settling between your thighs, where the need for him was so painful you could physically feel it.
Your bottoms felt like a flimsy barrier against the slick heat that begged for him. You moaned, your hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt until he growled in frustration and yanked it over his head himself. You splayed your palms across the warm, solid expanse of his chest, the sight of him bare and wanting making your head spin. He kissed you again, a deep, claiming kiss, before his hand dipped past your waistband.
Without hesitation, his fingers slipped through your slick folds. “Oh, shit… all this for me?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that made your knees weak.
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, rocking your hips against his hand, shamelessly chasing the friction. He found your clit, swollen and desperate, and began to circle it with the exact, maddening pressure he knew you liked. Your eyes rolled back as white-hot pleasure shot up your spine.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered against your ear. “Let me hear you.” He slipped two fingers inside you, making you whimper at the sudden, perfect stretch. “So wet. So fucking perfect for me.”
Your hips moved on their own, riding his hand as the tension coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You were so close, teetering on the edge from his touch alone, but it wasn’t enough.
“I need you.”
“Let me get you off like this,” he urged, his fingers stroking deeper. “You’re right there. I can feel it.”
Damn him and every damn secret of your body he still owned.
“No,” you choked out, forcing your hand past his to palm the hard length straining against his pants. You gave him a firm squeeze, pausing his movements as his hips jerked with a groan. “I said, I need you. Now.”
He relented, withdrawing his fingers, the loss a brief, hollow ache. But then his hands were on your bottoms, tugging them down your legs in one rough, urgent motion. You kicked them away, completely bare before him, consumed by a need so visceral it burned away every last shred of control you had.
He made quick work of his bottoms, and when you turned from the nightstand, he was gloriously naked and fully hard. A sight you knew by heart, yet one that still made your breath catch. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto the bed effortlessly. The air thickened instantly with his scent—and that fucking cologne. The smell that had been absent for a while was back, and you knew it would haunt your sheets for days.
As he settled between your thighs, he paused. His gaze landed on the foil square in your hand, brows furrowing with surprise. It was a silent but loaded question.
“What?” You pushed the packet into his palm, chuckling. “Safety first.”
A wry smile touched his lips, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of jealousy. “Who are you fucking?”
You held his stare, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it feel like a power play. “Right now, you,” you finally answered.
A slow grin spread across his face. The condom was forgotten for a second as he crushed his mouth to yours, the kiss deeper, hungrier. He broke away to tear the foil with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours. The rustle was loud in the quiet room. You watched as his hands rolled it down his length—a riveting yet unfamiliar sight you’d hated yourself for wanting.
When he finally settled back over you, the skin-on-skin contact you craved was gone, replaced by a thin, sterile barrier that was a stark reminder that you were no longer the same people you used to be.
But the beauty of muscle memory is that it doesn’t care about time. All it takes is the right prompt, and your body flows right back into its old rhythm instinctively. His touch was that prompt.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the heat of him an insistent pressure against your slick flesh. He slid in, and the stretch and fullness took your breath away. A delicious ache that chased away every thought that wasn’t him, here, now.
“Missed this,” he grunted, more to himself than to you.
You didn’t answer. You just hooked your legs around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back, and pulled him deeper. “Fuck… you’re so tight.”
A whimper was all you could manage, your nails scraping desperate lines down his shoulders. The feeling of being so utterly filled, the familiar shape of him, the alien friction of the latex—it overwhelmed your senses.
This was Seungcheol. Your Seungcheol. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t.
His hips slowly pulled back—almost all the way out—before a rolling thrust buried him to the hilt again, forcing your back to arch off the bed. He set a punishing rhythm from the first stroke, deep and relentless, each one hitting a place inside you that made your eyes roll back and flutter shut.
“Eyes on me,” he demanded.
Your eyes flew open, meeting his with that same fierce, stubborn energy he’d always known. Neither of you said a word, but the argument was right there in the air between you. Every snap of his hips was a question: Remember this? And every helpless gasp he elicited from your lips was your only answer: Yes.
He shifted, angling his hips, and the next thrust dragged directly over your clit. You clenched around him again, milking his length as he drove into you, his rhythm unyielding.
“God, you fuck me so good,” you admitted shamelessly.
You were completely and utterly blinded by how good he made you feel. A cocky smirk touched his lips.
He withdrew, leaving you achingly empty for a heartbeat. He manhandled you onto your side, folding your legs together until your knees touched, then he entered you from behind. The new angle was devastating. The coil inside you tightened violently, pleasure building with every rut of his hips.
You could feel your climax approaching, a tidal wave gathering force just offshore. A cry tore from your throat, the intensity of his movement combined with the utter helplessness of your position hurtling you toward the edge.
“I’m close,” you gasped.
He grunted, his voice strained. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
His words were the final trigger. The room spun into a blur. Your body seized, muscles clamping down on him in rhythmic waves. The sharp and all-consuming pleasure ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless.
He fucked you through it, his movements becoming more frantic, chasing his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin, his ragged breaths, your own whimpers filled the room.
“Fuck,” he growled, his voice raw as his body seized above yours, then you felt that deep, rhythmic pulse as he spilled into you. For a moment, his full weight crushed you, his face buried in your neck, his breath ragged against your skin. Then he propped himself up, his chest heaving, his cock still inside you. The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and confusion. His eyes met yours before he rolled off, collapsing beside you. The air on your sweat-slicked skin felt cold with the absence of his warmth surrounding you.
You stared blankly at the ceiling for a few moments, until unspoken instinct drew your heads to turn, your movements sickeningly synchronized. The raw hunger in his gaze had faded, leaving behind a chilling clarity that was a perfect reflection of the horror dawning in your own gut. What the fuck did we just do?
The question hung in the air, joining the tense silence that had replaced the frantic sounds moments before.
***********************
While Seungcheol showered, you dressed by muscle memory, each layer settling on your skin like a reminder you didn’t want. The soft fabric felt foreign against skin still marked by the raw scrape of his stubble. The elastic of your underwear dug in like a bruising echo of his fingers on your flesh. Every piece of clothing carried its own impossible weight, yet none of it compared to the phantom heaviness of him on top of you.
You floated in those memories, untethered, until a single thought yanked you back to reality: your son.
You slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the hall. You eased the door open, and there he was—your beautiful boy, in a perfect, peaceful heap under the blankets. Mouth parted, one leg dangling free.
A pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. You’d been just feet away, his father pinning you to the bed while the storm raged outside. And here he’d remained, safe in his quiet sanctuary—completely oblivious.
You watched the steady rise and fall of his small chest, forcing your racing thoughts to slow and sync with his breathing, summoning your soul back to the one thing in your world that was still pure.
***********************
It was quieter when you made your way back to the bedroom. The shower was off. The door was ajar, and steam drifted out into the hallway, and with it, the scent of your shower gel and shampoo. It was another jarring reminder that he had been in your space.
He stood with his back to you, a towel slung low on his hips, water tracing paths over the expanse of his shoulders as he dried his hair. You pursed your lips, taking in the sight in front of you. Even now, the sheer sight of him was a physical blow, undoing you all over again.
He turned, and a slow, knowing smirk curved as he caught you staring. Heat flooded your face. You tore your gaze away, feeling like some flustered prude, instead of somebody who’d just been thoroughly fucked.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he chuckled, his voice a low rasp. “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” The light, teasing tone was an attempt to bridge this chasm of awkwardness that had opened between you. He was right, though. You knew every ridge of his chest, the deep V that tapered below his navel, down to the way his skin tasted. But that was before. In another life. Now, that knowledge felt like contraband you were still carrying—and you had to get rid of it.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” you muttered tightly. You pulled the door shut, attempting to contain the potent, dangerous temptation of him on the other side.
***********************
Down the hall, you heard your son’s bedroom door open and close. Moments later, Seungcheol appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Sounds like there’s a break in the storm,” he said, his voice soft.
“Yeah. It looked nasty for a moment there.” You turned back to the coffee machine, your back a rigid line.
He leaned against the counter, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. “Looks like you finally remodeled the bathroom.”
“Sure did.”
“Looks amazing. Better than what I could have done,” he joked, a weak echo of his old bragging.
He cleared his throat. “So, uhm… are you okay?”
You glanced over, your expression carefully neutral. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were quiet after. I got worried when I got out of the shower and you were gone.”
“I just went to check on him,” you said, brushing it off.
He nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours, refusing to let it go. “And after that? You kind of ran off.” His voice dropped, the question a direct challenge.
You let out a sharp exasperated breath. “Look. So we had a moment. We’re both adults, right? Do we really need a post-mortem?”
You felt him retreat, the walls you’d just thrown up brick by brick coming up again. The silence stretched, and in your desperation to break it, you grasped for the first weapon you could find.
“So, I heard she took him to the zoo last week,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “Without you.”
The accusation hung in the air. It stopped him dead. She.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, running a hand through his damp hair. “I know we agreed I have to always be there, but the office called, and we were in crisis mode. I just didn’t want to let him down. She assured me she wouldn’t let—”
“It’s fine,” you cut him off, your tone deceptively calm. “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there would be times when he’d have to be alone with her when you have him. I mean, she lives there.”
Hearing the calmness in your voice didn’t ease his worries, so you met his gaze with a small smile. “Relax. All I’m saying is that if she’s alone with our son, I’d like to know.” You knew you’d regret the next words even as you said them. “If you want, you can give her my number for emergencies. Tell her I don’t bite.”
“Thanks,” he said, the relief washing over him. “It… means a lot that you would offer that.”
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He, uh, also wouldn’t shut up about her sea lion impression. He brings that little plushie she got him everywhere.” The words spilled out too fast. You were talking just to fill the quiet, anything to drown out your thoughts—whether she made him groan like that, whether her taste lingered on his tongue, whether he was already counting the minutes until he could see her again. Stop! You bit the inside of your cheek.
“Yeah. She’s great with him.” He smiled fondly.
She’s great.
That was the sound of a door closing, a line drawn in the sand. The mind‑blowing sex was a distant memory, just like the version of him that had once been yours. What stood here now was just Seungcheol. Your son’s father. Her partner.
“So, about next week,” he began, hands sinking into his pockets.
“You can pick him up whenever. Just call. I’m working from home anyway,” you cut in, a tight smile stretched across your face.
“Oh. Okay. So… meet at the usual neutral pickup point?”
“Actually,” you said, the thought forming even as it left your mouth, a reckless impulse disguised as efficiency. “It might be easier if you pick him up here after I get him from school. It’s on your way, right?”
He froze. Not shocked, but slightly confused. As if he was replaying the sentence in his head, checking if he’d heard it right. You’d never let him pick your son up from the house. Not since the custody agreement. And for a beat too long, he let himself believe this meant something else.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer than it should have been.
“Yeah, it’s only practical!” You shrugged like it was nothing, hoping it would dash whatever internal monologue he was having in his head.
“Right. Practical.” He nodded slowly. The moment stretched, his eyes searching your face for a crack you weren’t offering. Then he redirected, building on the practicality of your offer, to make it sound more justifiable.
“Or… what if I just grab him from school? I get off early Tuesday. I can swing by, pick up his things, save you the interruption.”
You’d only meant to extend an olive branch, to prove you were unaffected. Yet his counteroffer hung there, reasonable and simple, and a reminder that you inadvertently cracked open a door you weren’t sure you wanted open.
“He gets out at 1:15, right? I can come by at 12:30?” he added, nudging that door wider.
The silence weighed heavily with words trapped in your chests. He was trying to be helpful. You were trying to pretend you didn’t need it. Neither attempt succeeded.
“Sure. I’ll have his bag ready.”
“Great. Tuesday at 12:30?”
“Tuesday at 12:30,” you echoed.
He leaned in, aiming for your mouth, but you turned at the last second. His lips brushed your cheek. Tonight was a one‑off. A lapse in judgment. Nothing more.
“See you,” he murmured awkwardly.
“Bye,” you whispered, your throat tightening around the word.
You listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, the creak of the door, the soft click as it shut. The sound brought a dull ache in your chest. You stayed where you were, surrounded by the scent he left behind and the echo of things you didn’t say.
But as your gaze drifted to the small pile of your son’s toys on the floor, the ache settled into something steadier, something you can almost convince yourself is peace. You didn’t lose everything. You just outgrew what wasn’t meant to last. Even if a part of you still wished it had.
Damn muscle memory.
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Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; protected sex
Word count: 5.2k words
Summary: You and Seungcheol are navigating co-parenting when you cut your son's camping trip short. As old routines resurface and lines blur, a moment of vulnerability leads you from a tentative goodbye to an impulsive reconnection.
A/N: Coming out of my writing rut with another Cheol fic? With yet another laundry reference? Who am I??? 😂 Idk. I blame Cheol brainrot (per uze). Plus, the storm out here is getting to me, and I needed an outlet. Hope you all like it!
Tagging @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs. You're a gem! And @yoongukie-ff, because I mentioned writing this fic that would make her suffer lol
The last text came over an hour ago: Already left the campsite, don’t worry. But the flash-flood alert that lit up your screen minutes ago has your stomach in knots. It’s a two-hour drive—1.5 if he books it—which he usually does. Today, you’d begged him to stick to the speed limit. It’s the first storm in months, making the roads slick and unpredictable.
Any minute now… you said to yourself.
A car pulled into the driveway and your body jolted. You snatched the umbrella you’d propped by the door earlier and rushed outside.
Seungcheol moved quickly, unbuckling your son from his car seat. He barely stirred as the three of you huddled under the umbrella and hurried back toward the house.
Inside, your son shifted in Seungcheol’s arms, murmuring something with his cheek still pressed to his dad’s shoulder.
“Shit…his bag—”
“I got it. Just take him to his room,” you called over your shoulder, already heading back out.
When you returned, Seungcheol was crouched by the bed, easing your son’s shoes off. You headed straight for the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Skipping his bedtime bath made you wince, especially after camping. He smelled like campfire smoke and wet dirt. Lord knows if he’d had a proper shower in the last two days.
Tonight you let it go. There was no use waking him up, and you could always wash the sheets in the morning.
He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two. But the storm shifted course overnight, and was headed straight for the camping ground area. You’d called Seungcheol this morning, asking him to pack up early. Surprisingly, he hadn’t argued.
“He conked out right away,” he whispered. “Didn’t even make it past the park exit.”
“Sounds like he had a lot of fun,” you said, then paused. “Sorry I had to cut it short. I know he’s been looking forward to this trip all month.”
“No, no—it’s fine, really. Better safe than sorry.”
Redressing your sleeping son was a delicate balancing act. His limbs hung limp, head heavy against his dad’s chest, making every movement challenging. You reached for the hem of his shirt, and Seungcheol instinctively shifted his grip, steadying your son’s upper body so you could peel the fabric away. Your fingers brushed his as you tugged the sleeve free, and for a moment, neither of you pulled away.
You moved around each other without speaking, with Seungcheol adjusting his hold, and you working quickly to replace dirty clothes with clean ones. A hand on your wrist to help guide a pant leg. Panicked glances when your son stirred. It was a routine you hadn’t shared in a while, but it came back easily. Like muscle memory.
Once changed, Seungcheol gently laid him down. But the moment his head hit the pillow, his eyes fluttered open, bleary and disoriented.
“Mommy?” he croaked drowsily.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re home,” you murmured, brushing his hair back. “Go back to sleep.”
Seungcheol leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Love you, bud. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
Strangely, that made him more alert now. “Wait—where are you going?”
“Daddy has to go,” you said gently.
“Go where?”
He was still half-asleep, you told yourself. He knows this routine. “To his house.”
“No, don’t go. Please?” he begged, clutching his father’s wrist.
You forced a smile, smoothing his hair again. “Sweetheart, he has a long drive back, and I bet he’s tired. You’ll stay with him the whole week next week though.”
“Noooo, I want you both,” he insisted, voice cracking. “Please?”
You glanced at Seungcheol, torn. He gave a small shrug, already lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.
“I can stay a few more minutes,” he told him tentatively, then turned his gaze to you. “If…that’s okay with mommy?”
You sighed, then nodded. “Just until you fall asleep.” Your son squealed softly, eyes already fluttering shut in relief.
You settled opposite Seungcheol. Your son reached out and grabbed both your hands in a death grip—just in case one of you tried to slip away before he was fully asleep.
You hummed softly, threading your fingers through your son’s hair. Seungcheol flicked the nightlight switch, and the room was instantly filled with glowing constellations. You remembered when your son unwrapped it for his birthday—how he gasped in wonder, then whispered, It’s like camping…but inside. The memory elicited a quiet laugh from you.
Seungcheol caught the sound and glanced over. His eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something he hadn’t in a long time. Something he forgot he missed.
Eventually, your son’s grip loosened. His face was peaceful again, lashes matching his dad’s resting against his cheeks. You eased your hand free, and Seungcheol did the same, rising first. You followed behind, pausing at the doorway for one last look before pulling the door closed.
In the kitchen, Seungcheol was rubbing his eyes. He looked away mid-yawn when he saw you coming down the hallway.
“Coffee?”
He hesitated. “I don’t want to impose—”
“Not at all. I offered,” you said, already reaching for the mugs. “Besides, I’d rather you not fall asleep on the drive home. Especially in this weather.”
He nodded, then smiled faintly.
You set a mug beneath the dispenser. “Still take it the same way?”
He was caught off-guard at the question, but eventually nodded slowly.
You handed him the mug, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, as the storm hummed steadily outside. Standing opposite each other in the kitchen wrapped in silence.
Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward the hallway as he took a sip. “He’s getting so big. He was so excited to help me set up the tent.”
“Interesting.” You leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. “Last time you let him help, he got tangled in the rainfly and cried for twenty minutes. I thought you were going to throw him into the river,” you snorted.
He clicked his teeth, rolling his eyes at the accusation. “I was not going to throw him,” he muttered, but his smile faded. “I had a short fuse back then. I’m working on it.”
He swirled the coffee in his mug, then chuckled. “He’s just a very strong-willed kid. Like someone I know…” He arched his brow at you.
You shrugged, feigning innocence. “It builds character!”
“Yeah, no shit.” His laugh was soft, but tired.
You sipped your coffee, watching the way he stared into his mug, thumb tracing the rim.
“He asked if we could all go next time.”
You let out a small laugh. “Did you tell him no?”
“I said maybe.” He paused, eyes still on the mug. “He said he missed when we did things together.”
The words settled between you. You nodded slowly, unsure what to do with that. And tonight was hardly the moment to unpack it. “I think he just misses the idea of it.” Your eyes dropped to the floor.
“Sometimes I miss it too.” His voice came so quietly, as if he didn’t mean to say his thoughts out loud. You took a few beats before answering.
“I mostly miss the parts that didn’t hurt.” The words cut deeper than you intended. You weren’t trying to be cruel, just honest.
As much as you wished your son could grow up with both parents under one roof, you and Seungcheol knew that wasn’t possible. Not without reopening wounds that hadn’t fully healed. For all the things you disagreed on, there was one thing you had agreed on: you wanted your son to be happy. And in order to make that happen, you would not raise him in a warzone.
He nodded, quietly acknowledging.
He glanced at the clock behind you, cleared his throat. “I should probably get going.”
You watched him drain the last sip, then move towards the sink.
“Cheol, just leave it.” You tried to intercept him, but he was already rinsing his mug clean.
“Nah, I got it.” He set the mug on the rack and wiped his hands on his pants before heading toward the door. You rolled your eyes at the gesture, but bit your tongue. That’s not your job anymore, you reminded yourself then followed him toward the front door.
He paused at the threshold. “Thanks for the coffee.”
His hand hovered near the door latch, the other tucked into his pocket like he was restraining himself from reaching for you. His jaw tightened and shoulders lifted slightly, as if bracing against a familiar pull.
It had taken months of therapy to stand this close without recoiling. To be in the same room without wanting to rip each other’s head off. Still, tonight felt different. Heavier. Like something was pressing in from the edges.
You gave a small nod. “Drive safe,” you said automatically.
“Yeah.” His mouth tugged faintly, somewhere between a smile and a sigh.
“You should go before the wind picks up.” It was a half-hearted nudge, more suggestion than insistence.
“Guess I should.” But he didn’t move.
His gaze drifted—not to your eyes this time, but lower, to your mouth. You felt it again, that subtle shift in the air.
You looked away first, clearing your throat, but the tension didn’t ease. You swallowed hard. “Goodnight.”
“‘Night,” he echoed. He shifted his weight, hesitating—then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. You felt the uncertainty of his hold, but once you leaned in, it settled into something familiar.
It’s just muscle memory, you convinced yourself.
Your hands found the back of his jacket, and for a moment, you let yourself rest there. Into that nook between his chest, the warmth from it, the steady thrum of his pulse beating…It all came rushing back. The ache beneath. Not quite yearning, but something close to it. A whisper of what used to live between you, before the fights, before the silence. Before it all fell apart.
His hold slightly tightened, making you wonder if he felt it too.
He pulled back slowly, reluctantly. Then he opened the door. The cool air slipped in, and you flinched—not from the sudden chill, but from the thought of letting that door close behind him.
“Cheol!” His name tumbled out before you could stop it.
He turned immediately, brows furrowed.
Heart racing, you took a step, close enough to hear the subtle hitch in his breath.
Before your brain could process, your hand lifted, brushing along his jawline. His lashes fluttered, leaning into your touch instinctively.
But logic cut through. You shouldn’t reach for him. You shouldn’t want him. You just…shouldn’t.
You shook your head and stepped back. “Sorry. I… I need to stop.”
He caught your wrist, his hold gentle but firm. “Is that what you want?”
What you wanted was to talk yourself out of this.
He moved closer, crowding your space, whispering, “Tell me to stop.”
But the words wouldn’t come. You were standing at the edge of a cliff, telling yourself not to jump, and yet your body leaned forward anyway.
“Don’t.”
His arm banded around your waist, pulling you against him as his mouth claimed yours. No hesitation left—only the inevitable you’d been running from. He broke the kiss long enough to kick the door shut, the lock clicking into place.
And then you’re freefalling.
***********************
His lips crashed against yours, with raw, desperate hunger that took your breath away. Your hands flew to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer in response.
Every step toward the bedroom was careful, breaths ragged but hushed—the kind of restraint born from not wanting to wake your son.
A loose floorboard betrayed you. It gave a sharp, sudden creak beneath Seungcheol’s foot, making you both go still. You both held your breaths, listening for any stirring from across the narrow hallway.
Nothing. Just the long stretch of silence.
Relief flickered, and desire resumed. Your fingers curled at his nape, tugging him back down to your mouth.
You moved again, a tangle of limbs and mouths stumbling through the dark hallway. The sound of the bedroom latch barely registered before you spun him, shoving him backward until he fell onto the mattress with a laugh. He barely had a moment to sit up before you were straddling him, settling into his lap and claiming his mouth again. It was as if the last two years had been erased. Just this—the heated, possessive slide of his tongue against yours, so intoxicating it made you ache with the regret of ever letting it go. His hands framed your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks with a tenderness that made your chest hurt, your body molding to his like it had never left.
Your mouth broke from his, trailing a path of wet kisses down the column of his throat. You nipped at his collarbone, and he arched into you. His hands slid down your spine, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. He ground his hard length against the ache blooming between your legs.
“A little eager, are we?” you teased, your voice breathless.
“I don’t want to play games,” he rasped, his hand already sliding under your shirt to palm your breast, the material of your bra a rough tease against your skin. He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you?”
You shook your head, a shaky breath escaping you. With a dark smirk, he peeled your shirt off, his movements sure. Your bra followed, his fingers expertly working the clasp. He leaned back, his gaze raking over you, hungry and unabashed.
You cleared your throat. “My eyes are up here, sir,” you joked, though your voice was weaker than you intended.
He chuckled softly. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice thick with awe.
The warmth that spread through your chest was dangerous, a feeling you couldn’t afford tonight. What you needed was raw, not soft. The cool air on your bare skin was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of his mouth as it closed over a peaked nipple. You gasped, your back bowing as your fingers knotted in his hair. His tongue swirled and teased, his teeth grazing the sensitive tip with just enough pressure to make you whimper. Shocks of pleasure ricocheted through you, settling between your thighs, where the need for him was so painful you could physically feel it.
Your bottoms felt like a flimsy barrier against the slick heat that begged for him. You moaned, your hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt until he growled in frustration and yanked it over his head himself. You splayed your palms across the warm, solid expanse of his chest, the sight of him bare and wanting making your head spin. He kissed you again, a deep, claiming kiss, before his hand dipped past your waistband.
Without hesitation, his fingers slipped through your slick folds. “Oh, shit… all this for me?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that made your knees weak.
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, rocking your hips against his hand, shamelessly chasing the friction. He found your clit, swollen and desperate, and began to circle it with the exact, maddening pressure he knew you liked. Your eyes rolled back as white-hot pleasure shot up your spine.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered against your ear. “Let me hear you.” He slipped two fingers inside you, making you whimper at the sudden, perfect stretch. “So wet. So fucking perfect for me.”
Your hips moved on their own, riding his hand as the tension coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You were so close, teetering on the edge from his touch alone, but it wasn’t enough.
“I need you.”
“Let me get you off like this,” he urged, his fingers stroking deeper. “You’re right there. I can feel it.”
Damn him and every damn secret of your body he still owned.
“No,” you choked out, forcing your hand past his to palm the hard length straining against his pants. You gave him a firm squeeze, pausing his movements as his hips jerked with a groan. “I said, I need you. Now.”
He relented, withdrawing his fingers, the loss a brief, hollow ache. But then his hands were on your bottoms, tugging them down your legs in one rough, urgent motion. You kicked them away, completely bare before him, consumed by a need so visceral it burned away every last shred of control you had.
He made quick work of his bottoms, and when you turned from the nightstand, he was gloriously naked and fully hard. A sight you knew by heart, yet one that still made your breath catch. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto the bed effortlessly. The air thickened instantly with his scent—and that fucking cologne. The smell that had been absent for a while was back, and you knew it would haunt your sheets for days.
As he settled between your thighs, he paused. His gaze landed on the foil square in your hand, brows furrowing with surprise. It was a silent but loaded question.
“What?” You pushed the packet into his palm, chuckling. “Safety first.”
A wry smile touched his lips, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of jealousy. “Who are you fucking?”
You held his stare, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it feel like a power play. “Right now, you,” you finally answered.
A slow grin spread across his face. The condom was forgotten for a second as he crushed his mouth to yours, the kiss deeper, hungrier. He broke away to tear the foil with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours. The rustle was loud in the quiet room. You watched as his hands rolled it down his length—a riveting yet unfamiliar sight you’d hated yourself for wanting.
When he finally settled back over you, the skin-on-skin contact you craved was gone, replaced by a thin, sterile barrier that was a stark reminder that you were no longer the same people you used to be.
But the beauty of muscle memory is that it doesn’t care about time. All it takes is the right prompt, and your body flows right back into its old rhythm instinctively. His touch was that prompt.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the heat of him an insistent pressure against your slick flesh. He slid in, and the stretch and fullness took your breath away. A delicious ache that chased away every thought that wasn’t him, here, now.
“Missed this,” he grunted, more to himself than to you.
You didn’t answer. You just hooked your legs around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back, and pulled him deeper. “Fuck… you’re so tight.”
A whimper was all you could manage, your nails scraping desperate lines down his shoulders. The feeling of being so utterly filled, the familiar shape of him, the alien friction of the latex—it overwhelmed your senses.
This was Seungcheol. Your Seungcheol. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t.
His hips slowly pulled back—almost all the way out—before a rolling thrust buried him to the hilt again, forcing your back to arch off the bed. He set a punishing rhythm from the first stroke, deep and relentless, each one hitting a place inside you that made your eyes roll back and flutter shut.
“Eyes on me,” he demanded.
Your eyes flew open, meeting his with that same fierce, stubborn energy he’d always known. Neither of you said a word, but the argument was right there in the air between you. Every snap of his hips was a question: Remember this? And every helpless gasp he elicited from your lips was your only answer: Yes.
He shifted, angling his hips, and the next thrust dragged directly over your clit. You clenched around him again, milking his length as he drove into you, his rhythm unyielding.
“God, you fuck me so good,” you admitted shamelessly.
You were completely and utterly blinded by how good he made you feel. A cocky smirk touched his lips.
He withdrew, leaving you achingly empty for a heartbeat. He manhandled you onto your side, folding your legs together until your knees touched, then he entered you from behind. The new angle was devastating. The coil inside you tightened violently, pleasure building with every rut of his hips.
You could feel your climax approaching, a tidal wave gathering force just offshore. A cry tore from your throat, the intensity of his movement combined with the utter helplessness of your position hurtling you toward the edge.
“I’m close,” you gasped.
He grunted, his voice strained. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
His words were the final trigger. The room spun into a blur. Your body seized, muscles clamping down on him in rhythmic waves. The sharp and all-consuming pleasure ripped through you, leaving you trembling and boneless.
He fucked you through it, his movements becoming more frantic, chasing his own release. The sound of skin slapping against skin, his ragged breaths, your own whimpers filled the room.
“Fuck,” he growled, his voice raw as his body seized above yours, then you felt that deep, rhythmic pulse as he spilled into you. For a moment, his full weight crushed you, his face buried in your neck, his breath ragged against your skin. Then he propped himself up, his chest heaving, his cock still inside you. The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and confusion. His eyes met yours before he rolled off, collapsing beside you. The air on your sweat-slicked skin felt cold with the absence of his warmth surrounding you.
You stared blankly at the ceiling for a few moments, until unspoken instinct drew your heads to turn, your movements sickeningly synchronized. The raw hunger in his gaze had faded, leaving behind a chilling clarity that was a perfect reflection of the horror dawning in your own gut. What the fuck did we just do?
The question hung in the air, joining the tense silence that had replaced the frantic sounds moments before.
***********************
While Seungcheol showered, you dressed by muscle memory, each layer settling on your skin like a reminder you didn’t want. The soft fabric felt foreign against skin still marked by the raw scrape of his stubble. The elastic of your underwear dug in like a bruising echo of his fingers on your flesh. Every piece of clothing carried its own impossible weight, yet none of it compared to the phantom heaviness of him on top of you.
You floated in those memories, untethered, until a single thought yanked you back to reality: your son.
You slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the hall. You eased the door open, and there he was—your beautiful boy, in a perfect, peaceful heap under the blankets. Mouth parted, one leg dangling free.
A pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. You’d been just feet away, his father pinning you to the bed while the storm raged outside. And here he’d remained, safe in his quiet sanctuary—completely oblivious.
You watched the steady rise and fall of his small chest, forcing your racing thoughts to slow and sync with his breathing, summoning your soul back to the one thing in your world that was still pure.
***********************
It was quieter when you made your way back to the bedroom. The shower was off. The door was ajar, and steam drifted out into the hallway, and with it, the scent of your shower gel and shampoo. It was another jarring reminder that he had been in your space.
He stood with his back to you, a towel slung low on his hips, water tracing paths over the expanse of his shoulders as he dried his hair. You pursed your lips, taking in the sight in front of you. Even now, the sheer sight of him was a physical blow, undoing you all over again.
He turned, and a slow, knowing smirk curved as he caught you staring. Heat flooded your face. You tore your gaze away, feeling like some flustered prude, instead of somebody who’d just been thoroughly fucked.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he chuckled, his voice a low rasp. “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before.” The light, teasing tone was an attempt to bridge this chasm of awkwardness that had opened between you. He was right, though. You knew every ridge of his chest, the deep V that tapered below his navel, down to the way his skin tasted. But that was before. In another life. Now, that knowledge felt like contraband you were still carrying—and you had to get rid of it.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” you muttered tightly. You pulled the door shut, attempting to contain the potent, dangerous temptation of him on the other side.
***********************
Down the hall, you heard your son’s bedroom door open and close. Moments later, Seungcheol appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Sounds like there’s a break in the storm,” he said, his voice soft.
“Yeah. It looked nasty for a moment there.” You turned back to the coffee machine, your back a rigid line.
He leaned against the counter, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. “Looks like you finally remodeled the bathroom.”
“Sure did.”
“Looks amazing. Better than what I could have done,” he joked, a weak echo of his old bragging.
He cleared his throat. “So, uhm… are you okay?”
You glanced over, your expression carefully neutral. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were quiet after. I got worried when I got out of the shower and you were gone.”
“I just went to check on him,” you said, brushing it off.
He nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours, refusing to let it go. “And after that? You kind of ran off.” His voice dropped, the question a direct challenge.
You let out a sharp exasperated breath. “Look. So we had a moment. We’re both adults, right? Do we really need a post-mortem?”
You felt him retreat, the walls you’d just thrown up brick by brick coming up again. The silence stretched, and in your desperation to break it, you grasped for the first weapon you could find.
“So, I heard she took him to the zoo last week,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “Without you.”
The accusation hung in the air. It stopped him dead. She.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, running a hand through his damp hair. “I know we agreed I have to always be there, but the office called, and we were in crisis mode. I just didn’t want to let him down. She assured me she wouldn’t let—”
“It’s fine,” you cut him off, your tone deceptively calm. “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there would be times when he’d have to be alone with her when you have him. I mean, she lives there.”
Hearing the calmness in your voice didn’t ease his worries, so you met his gaze with a small smile. “Relax. All I’m saying is that if she’s alone with our son, I’d like to know.” You knew you’d regret the next words even as you said them. “If you want, you can give her my number for emergencies. Tell her I don’t bite.”
“Thanks,” he said, the relief washing over him. “It… means a lot that you would offer that.”
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He, uh, also wouldn’t shut up about her sea lion impression. He brings that little plushie she got him everywhere.” The words spilled out too fast. You were talking just to fill the quiet, anything to drown out your thoughts—whether she made him groan like that, whether her taste lingered on his tongue, whether he was already counting the minutes until he could see her again. Stop! You bit the inside of your cheek.
“Yeah. She’s great with him.” He smiled fondly.
She’s great.
That was the sound of a door closing, a line drawn in the sand. The mind‑blowing sex was a distant memory, just like the version of him that had once been yours. What stood here now was just Seungcheol. Your son’s father. Her partner.
“So, about next week,” he began, hands sinking into his pockets.
“You can pick him up whenever. Just call. I’m working from home anyway,” you cut in, a tight smile stretched across your face.
“Oh. Okay. So… meet at the usual neutral pickup point?”
“Actually,” you said, the thought forming even as it left your mouth, a reckless impulse disguised as efficiency. “It might be easier if you pick him up here after I get him from school. It’s on your way, right?”
He froze. Not shocked, but slightly confused. As if he was replaying the sentence in his head, checking if he’d heard it right. You’d never let him pick your son up from the house. Not since the custody agreement. And for a beat too long, he let himself believe this meant something else.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer than it should have been.
“Yeah, it’s only practical!” You shrugged like it was nothing, hoping it would dash whatever internal monologue he was having in his head.
“Right. Practical.” He nodded slowly. The moment stretched, his eyes searching your face for a crack you weren’t offering. Then he redirected, building on the practicality of your offer, to make it sound more justifiable.
“Or… what if I just grab him from school? I get off early Tuesday. I can swing by, pick up his things, save you the interruption.”
You’d only meant to extend an olive branch, to prove you were unaffected. Yet his counteroffer hung there, reasonable and simple, and a reminder that you inadvertently cracked open a door you weren’t sure you wanted open.
“He gets out at 1:15, right? I can come by at 12:30?” he added, nudging that door wider.
The silence weighed heavily with words trapped in your chests. He was trying to be helpful. You were trying to pretend you didn’t need it. Neither attempt succeeded.
“Sure. I’ll have his bag ready.”
“Great. Tuesday at 12:30?”
“Tuesday at 12:30,” you echoed.
He leaned in, aiming for your mouth, but you turned at the last second. His lips brushed your cheek. Tonight was a one‑off. A lapse in judgment. Nothing more.
“See you,” he murmured awkwardly.
“Bye,” you whispered, your throat tightening around the word.
You listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, the creak of the door, the soft click as it shut. The sound brought a dull ache in your chest. You stayed where you were, surrounded by the scent he left behind and the echo of things you didn’t say.
But as your gaze drifted to the small pile of your son’s toys on the floor, the ache settled into something steadier, something you can almost convince yourself is peace. You didn’t lose everything. You just outgrew what wasn’t meant to last. Even if a part of you still wished it had.
Damn muscle memory.
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