bunny

🩵

Chan’s face hurts from smiling. The pain is nothing compared to what you’ll probably feel once the anesthetic wears off, of course, but it’s still painful.

Not that he’s going to stop smiling. You’re adorable like this, bundled in blankets on the couch, cheeks puffy and lips stuck out in a cute little pout. Your hair is in a loose, messy ponytail, 

And you can’t stop staring at him, which might be the most endearing part.

“Do you need something, baby?” he asks, and your wide eyes widen more.

“Whoa.” Your voice is almost muffled, because you’ve refused to take the gauze out of your cheeks. Something about how you’re gonna die without it. Chan just agreed after the third time you started whining and batting him away.

“What is it?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he knows.

You whisper like it’s a secret: “The cute guy called me baby!”

And there it is. Chan has to fight back his giggles. This has been happening almost nonstop since the car ride home, and it’s never less adorable and hilarious.

“I did, baby,” he says, and you gasp.

“Whoa! He did it again!”

This time, a short laugh slips out before Chan can compose himself. “Baby, I’m your boyfriend,” he says slowly, poking your shoulder.

Your jaw drops. Then you whine in pain, mouth snapping shut, and Chan coos as a little bundle of blanket presses up against your cheek. You don’t seem to have the motor skills to get your hand free.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, leaning in and brushing your hair out of your eyes. You look like you’re about to explode. It’s so cute. He seriously can’t stop smiling. “You’re adorable. How about I make you a smoothie, yeah? Would you like that?”

You nod, eyes wide, and he taps your nose.

“Alright. One smoothie, coming right up!”

He drops a kiss on your forehead and heads for the kitchen. Just as he rounds the corner, he hears you squeal:

🤍

The way your fingers toy with the collar of Chan’s jacket is already enough to make him lose his mind. That, plus the pulse of the music and the adrenaline and alcohol pumping through his veins, is leading in a very dangerous direction.

Leading, as if he isn’t halfway there already, hands on your hips in the middle of the dance floor. Bodies swarm around him, bumping and jostling, but none of them are you, arms curled lazily around his neck, eyes sparkling with golden glitter, lipstick and lipgloss perfect and teasing him. He wants to mess it up. He really wants to mess it up.

But every time he leans in, you turn away, pretty lips curling in a tantalizing smirk.

“You said you wanted to dance,” you whisper in his ear, fingers pressing at the back of his neck to pull him down to your level. He’d go even without the direction. “So we’re going to dance, baby.”

Chan’s mouth goes dry. Your hips move under his hands, back and forth to the beat, and it’s less like he’s holding you and more like he’s trying to hold on. You tilt your head back, hair spilling around your bare shoulders, a trio of necklaces ringing your neck, and it’s so unfair. So unfair. He never should’ve dragged you to this club tonight. Maybe you wouldn’t have dressed up so much, but he’d kiss you silly in your pajamas any day of the week. He didn’t mind.

Now, in your halter top and pleated skirt and freaking lipstick, you’re just punishing him. You’d wanted to stay home. He’d coaxed you out. Now he wants nothing more than to be back home, and you aren’t letting him.

Pure torture. It’s awful. You’re in his arms, right there, and yet Chan can’t kiss you.

It’s driving him crazy.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, tugging at your hips. “Please, babe. I’m sorry. You were right, we should’ve stayed home.”

Your eyes gleam with triumph. Normally he’d bristle at that, try to fight for his pride, but right now that’s the last thing on his mind. The way your lips quirk into a smile is all he can think about.

“There we go,” you whisper, and then you’re taking his hand and dragging him through the crowd and towards the door.

Chan doesn’t make it there. The moment you’re free from the mob of dancers, he’s trapping you against the first wall he can find, and you laugh into his mouth as his lips crash into yours.

“Hey, slow down,” you manage between kisses. Shut up, he thinks, because you taste like strawberries and vodka and it’s driving him insane. He kisses you again and again, then when you laugh again he tucks his head in the crook of your neck to kiss over the necklaces he bought you. “Mm – Chan – Chan, baby, at least wait till we get to the car,” you giggle, giggle, and now you’re just laughing at his pain. He pauses, looking up to catch a glimpse of your eyes as they dilate.

“Don’t tell me to wait,” he begs, because, yeah. That’s what it’s come to.

But your damn eyes dance with mischief, and he knows you’re not done.

“Car,” you repeat, brushing his hands off of your hips, and he can only make a strangled noise as you disappear out the front door.

He has the keys, buried somewhere in his pocket, so by the time he drags his scattered brain together and makes it outside, you’re leaning against the back door of his sedan, heel propped up on the tire, arms crossed and hair fluttering in the cool night breeze. You’re beautiful. And you’re looking at him. His heart clenches in his chest, or maybe it’s his lungs that are dying, but either way he somehow manages to get across the parking lot and click the car open.

You turn around, pulling the door open, and Chan has to restrain himself from tackling you straight into the backseat. As it is, he loops one arm around your waist and drags you inside the car, protecting your head with the other.

Your laugh is a blessing and a curse as he pauses only long enough to yank the door shut behind him. It slams hard enough to jostle the whole car.

Then he looks down at you, clothes rumpled and hair spread out on the seat, and everything crashes into him yet again. Your beauty. Your laugh. Your fiery, teasing, passionate love, just for him, always for him.

“Well?” you ask, breathless, palm warm on his knee where he’s braced it beside your hip. “We’re in the car.”

But Chan can’t move. You’re too beautiful. He could get lost in your eyes. He could kiss them a million times. Is that weird?

"Angel, If you want to hold my hand, just say so. Don't be violent" he says, hand brushing back his wet hair when both of you are safe under a roof, and you have the urge to smack him. Deciding to play nice, since you were the host, you shove him into the bathroom with a "I'll get you some clothes you can fit in" and shut the door. As you pick up your stuff and begin wringing the water out at the sink, you hear his muffled complaints. Smiling, you take out all your stuff and go to get changed.

Half an hour and one warm shower later, both of you sit down on the floor, slurping down hot ramen. There are no words exchanged, only the sounds of chopsticks clinking and occasional "Oww" as one of you burns your mouth with the steaming noodles, and the other resorts with a mumbled "Careful".

Satisfied, you take your bowls and dump them into the sink for later, when Jeonghan rolls up his sleeves and begins washing.

"Oh come on, I'll do it later" you try to dissuade him, but he's stubborn as ever, and only steers you to the kitchen stool and plops you down. You give up, and assign yourself the task of admiring him, against the backdrop of your black cabinets and red pans hung up, like a star in the galaxy of your tiny kitchen, a metaphor you come up with so quickly, you would've second-guessed your affection for him if you weren't already together.

When he realizes you're staring, he sends you a cheeky smile and a horrible attempt at a sleazy wink and you burst out laughing.

"Just finish the dishes you dork" you quip, squeezing his shoulder and moving past him to take out a plate.

"Hey, no more plates. I forbid you from taking any more" he says, and you hit back with a "No one asked you to do all the dishes mister" but he stops you by physically standing in front of those cabinets.

Dammit, he was tall. Damn him and his height. What did he have to be so tall along with being so handsome? To ruin your life?

You resort to tickling him, but he starts tickling you back with his wet hands and it has somehow developed into him chasing you across the apartment. You're pretty sure the neighbours might complain with how loud you're screaming, but you don't care.

When both of you (Jeonghan) finally finish doing the dishes and stop being gremlins, you race to the couch and land on it heavily, letting out an "Oof".

Jeonghan, the menace that he is, lifts a leg and drapes it on you. You push it down without even opening your eyes. He puts it up again, undeterred. You push it down again. When he puts it up for the third time, you push his down with far more force than necessary when dealing with him and drape your legs on him instead. He hums content, doesn't even protest. Of course, he probably got you exactly where we wanted you. You huff. Little devil.

Still you can't help but soften when he begins rubbing your legs, the movement comforting. You follow his hands through lidded eyes, already feeling sleepy. His hands, go up and down, and before you know it, you're dozing off. You shift and place your head on his shoulder and he chuckles, breaking the silence in the apartment.

Around you, the city has gone quiet after the rain stopped. Only the kitchen light stays, warm lights spilling over your bone-tired souls, held up only by each other.

"Bed?" he asks, and you hum. He understands, like he always does, and gently gets your legs off his lap to stand up. When he finishes stretching, he pulls you up and you land on his shoulder again.

"Won't carry me?" you ask, voice warbled from sleep, and Jeonghan can't help but find you adorable, half-lidded gaze and all.

"Of course" he claims, and goes to lift you up when you back away laughing. You would've loved for him to carry you to the bedroom if not for the fact you knew if he did, both of you would just come tumbling down on the floor. He now uses that tactic whenever he wants to scare you, or snap you out of your disoriented haze whenever you're zoning out.

Dully glowing neon stars greet you on the side of your wall as you enter the bedroom. When he asked you why once, you'd said "I can touch the stars this way." He'd mumbled a joke after, but sometimes that's what he pencils in his diary when he asks himself why he wants to be near you all the time.

Your desk, cluttered as always, is piled with notebooks and papers. He just looks at it and you defend it with "I know, I know. I keep meaning to clean it, but I'm so tired."

He just brushes strands away from your face, "Let's do it together tomorrow, hmm?" you nod, and plop down on the bed. As he brings out the covers and fluffs them so they're warm and toasty, you keep peering at him in the yellow light.

For a faint moment, you think about all the people who could've witnessed the Jeonghan in front of you, about the many who could've written about him better, painted him and immortalized him for centuries to come with their brilliance, but they couldn't. He chose you, and that feels like a quiet victory you didn't know you wanted. You have him now, for everything it's worth.

"Hannie"

"Yes, angel?"

"Stay with me, 'kay?"

He smiles, a wry smile different from all the smiles he's given you this evening. "Just this night or is there a number?" he jokes, as he pulls himself up to slide under the covers with you.

You turn to him, gaze serious, "Every night. As long as there are nights in the world and there's a morning after."

He turns to you now, pulling you into his chest as he leaves a gentle kiss against your forehead.

A/N: If you made it this far, please leave a comment or a reblog. Feedback is much appreciated :D (please be nice to me, this is my first time writing)

"You don't even have to ask."

. . . is someone more extroverted than him (but not too much)

• there's a very specific sweet spot here that he's looking for, someone who's not super extroverted but also not as much of an introvert as he is. since jun definitely leans more introverted, he doesn't mind sitting back and letting you talk to your heart's content. with a partner who's more extroverted than he is, there's no pressure for him to carry the conversation or make jokes. he can just listen and jump in when he wants to, not because he feels obligated to fill the silence when you're around.

• i think he enjoys having extroverted friends (how could he get along so well with svt if he didn't lol) so he's grown used to being around rambunctious energy. maybe not as rowdy 24/7 as someone like hoshi, but he'd like having a partner who knows how to have fun and let loose once in a while. as long as you're enjoying yourself and he doesn't have to interact with a ton of strangers, he doesn't care.

• for most of his life he's taken on a 'big brother' kind of role, so deep down i think he'd secretly want someone who'll take care of him so he can relax. he wants somebody who's not afraid to flag down a waiter and complain about his order being wrong, when he'd rather suck it up and not bother the staff. he wants somebody who'll hold his hand on busy streets and make sure he doesn't get caught up in the crowd and left behind in the chaos. he wants somebody who'll be the older sibling for him this time, someone who's mature and caring in the same way he is.

. . . values communication and honesty

• he's said this plenty of times, but jun is a very honest person. he isn't so honest that he uses his honesty to hurt people — quite the opposite, actually. the last thing he ever wants is to make his partner or his friends uncomfortable by telling harsh truths. but at the same time, open communication is really important to him. having to learn multiple languages for his job, miscommunication happens a lot and he's acutely aware of how frustrating it is when other people don't understand what he's trying to say. even if it may hurt his pride sometimes, he'd want someone who'll always tell him the truth, because he prefers to know instead of hearing little white lies that won't help him grow as a person.

• i think he's very philosophical and he reflects a lot, and he always wants to learn from others and better himself, which is why communication is so important to him. if there's a better, more efficient, more kind way to live his life then he wants to achieve that, and the only way to do that is by being honest with himself and everyone in his life.

. . . is someone he can let his inner child out with

• we've all seen the runner-up winner episode of gose! (if you haven't, then what are you doing go watch it right now?? it's so cute i promise you'll love it) jun is a guy that really loves to play games and be silly. he's so whimsical and finds fun in practically anything, so his ideal type wouldn't mind doing "childish" things together. he wants someone who is truly genuine in everything that they do: who isn't afraid of looking stupid, who doesn't go along with the crowd, who doesn't obsess over how people perceive them.

• he wouldn't fit well with someone who's strict or stubborn or too nonchalant, someone who's a workaholic, because he knows how important it is to have a balance in your life and not take yourself too seriously sometimes. obviously he wouldn't be comfortable around someone who looks down on him for being immature or makes fun of him for acting like a kid sometimes. the man has been working since he was 3 years old, cut him some slack! svt understands this and it's why they treat him so gently. they adore him because they know he needs space to be a little dumb and a little dorky without judgement. he's spent so much of his life being serious, so his ideal partner would be someone who embraces his weird side, and loves him not just in spite of it, but because of it. weird baddies have to stick together so it's a requirement for him sorry you've gotta be a little bit strange.

[NSFW] . . . is a switch who always loves trying new things

• jun is so good at adapting to whatever situation he's in, and i think that would carry over into the bedroom. he's flexible, and he wants someone who can be flexible too and keep up with his many desires. sometimes he's had a rough day and he wants to just turn his brain off and let his partner call the shots, and he'll be your good boy and do whatever you tell him to do. sometimes he wants to be a little bratty and make you force him into submission instead. sometimes he's feeling brave and wants to take charge, and he be a little bit of a mean dom too. but most of the time, to him sex is just sex, so as long as you both feel good it doesn't matter exactly what the roles are. he's very much a "go with the flow" person, so he wouldn't work well with somebody who's very rigid and only likes one certain type of sex.

• he's a man of many talents (singing, dancing, acting, modeling, cooking, martial arts, speaking like 10 different languages... the list goes on) and he doesn't want to do only one thing for his entire life, so i can't see him wanting to stick to one type of sex forever either. like a cat, he's curious about everything, and he wants to try every new thing he comes across. he's open to almost anything, so he'd want a partner who is equally willing to play around with him, even if it doesn't end up being something either of you like. the experimenting is the fun part!

• he'd also want someone who isn't afraid of talking about sex, because while even he can be shy about it sometimes, it's normal and okay and there's nothing weird about it. he loves post-sex discussions where you just lie in bed together and talk about what you liked, what you didn't like, what you want to try differently next time. communication is very important to him, and if something isn't working, he wants to know right away. if it's something he can fix, then there's no reason to beat around the bush instead of tackling it head-on.

• bonus: i am on team "jun wants to be pegged" so i believe his ideal type is someone who isn't afraid of using toys/other items in the bedroom. do NOT try to come between him and his favorite dildo.

© junkissed 2026. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did please reblog with your thoughts, or leave a comment or send an ask! it shows me that people are interested in my writing, and knowing people liked this makes me want to write more! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

He's transformed for the occasion: black slacks hugging his lean hips, a crisp white button-up shirt tucked neatly, every tattoo concealed beneath the fabric. His dark hair is slicked back just enough to stay out of his piercing eyes, giving him an air of refined elegance that contrasts sharply with the rebel you know—the one who revs his motorcycle too loud and smirks at rules like they're suggestions.

Your father studies your boyfriend, appraising him. “Wonwoo, it’s good to finally meet you.”

There's a hint of skepticism in his tone, but Wonwoo doesn't flinch.

“Yes, sir. I'm grateful for the chance to meet you both properly.” He turns to your mother, offering a charming smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “The house smells great—did you make all this yourself?”

She blushes slightly, waving off the compliment as she gestures for everyone to sit. “Oh, it's nothing special. Just a family recipe.”

As dinner begins, Wonwoo dives in effortlessly. He asks your father about his work, nodding thoughtfully at stories of engineering projects, and shares the story of how you met, focusing on the fact you met at college and omitting the motorcycle ride.

“You know, Wonwoo,” your mother says midway through the meal, passing him the mashed potatoes, “our daughter speaks highly of you. She's always been so responsible, our good girl. It's great to see her bringing home such a nice young man.”

Wonwoo's gaze flicks to you, a subtle heat in his eyes that only you catch, before he replies, “She's incredible. Smart, kind—I'm lucky to have her in my life.”

His foot nudges yours under the table, a secret press that makes your cheeks warm. The conversation flows easily after that; he compliments the wine your parents chose, laughs at your father's dry jokes, and listens intently as your mother recounts neighbourhood gossip. By dessert any tension in the air has eased into approval.

As plates clear, your father leans back in his chair. 'It's getting late, and the drive back might be rough with the weather picking up. Why don't you stay the night, Wonwoo? We have a guest room down the hall.'

Your mother nods enthusiastically.

Wonwoo inclines his head graciously. “That's very kind of you. I'd appreciate it. Thank you.”

You exchange a quick glance with him, smiling at how well the evening turned out.

The evening winds down with tea in the living room, polite small talk fading as your parents retire around ten. You bid Wonwoo goodnight in the hallway, your voices hushed and formal for their sake, though his fingers graze your wrist as he whispers, “Sweet dreams,” with a wink that belies the bad boy beneath.

---

In your old bedroom, the clock ticks past midnight. You're asleep, lost in dreams, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that skims your thighs and a pair of cotton underwear hugging your hips.

The door opens with a whisper-soft creak, not enough to disturb you. Wonwoo moves like a shadow, closing it behind him and turning the lock with practiced silence. He's shed his shirt somewhere in the guest room, left in loose sweatpants that do little to hide the bulge growing against the fabric.

His bare feet pad across the carpet, eyes adjusting to the dim light spilling through the curtains. He pauses at the bedside, gaze raking over your sleeping form—the way the t-shirt has ridden up, exposing the curve of your ass, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. The thought of claiming you here makes his cock twitch harder.

He slides onto the bed carefully, the mattress dipping under his weight as he spoons you from behind. His body molds to yours, chest pressing against your back, one arm slipping around your waist to pull you flush. The heat of him seeps through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, his skin feverish with restraint. You stir faintly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping, but don't wake yet. Wonwoo's lips brush the nape of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo.

Then, without warning, his hand clamps over your mouth—firm, unyielding, fingers splaying wide to seal in any sound. At the same moment, his mouth latches onto the side of your neck, sucking hard, teeth grazing the skin as he draws a deep, bruising mark.

The sharp sting and sudden pressure jolt you awake. Your eyes fly open, heart slamming in your chest as panic flares—then recognition hits. Wonwoo's body is a solid wall behind you, his hips grinding forward to press his hard cock against your ass. It's thick and insistent, the length of it nestling between your cheeks, throbbing with need. You try to gasp, to turn, but his grip holds you pinned, his palm muffling the noise into a pathetic whimper. His tongue swirls over the fresh hickey, soothing the ache even as he bites down again, lighter this time, marking you deeper.

"Shh, baby," he murmurs against your ear, voice a rough rasp laced with amusement.

His free hand slides under your t-shirt, palm flat against your stomach, fingers dipping just below the waistband of your panties. "Didn't mean to startle you. But fuck, I couldn't stay away. Lying in that guest room, staring at the ceiling, all I could think about was you in here. Touching yourself in this little bed, biting your lip to keep quiet."

He rolls his hips, dragging his cock along the cleft of your ass, the friction making him groan low. "Got me so hard imagining it. You, all innocent, rubbing your clit to dirty thoughts.”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, your body responding despite the shock. You squirm against him, ass pushing back instinctively, feeling the rigid heat of him twitch in response.

You pull back just enough to breathe. “Wonwoo, wait. They're right down the hall. If they hear—"

He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through his chest as he guides you onto your back and captures your lips, swallowing your protest.

“You think I'm worried?” He nips at your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before releasing. “I'll just have to keep you quiet.”

Your breath hitches, a mix of fear and thrill coiling low in your belly. You nod, biting your lip to stifle another sound, but he sees the anxiety in your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the door.

“Trust me,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, trailing hot breaths down your neck. His hands roam now, one sliding under your shirt to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You arch into him, legs parting as he shifts to kneel between them on the bed.

The kisses intensify, messy and urgent, his tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers pinch and roll your nipples, sending jolts straight to your core. You kiss him back hungrily, hands threading through his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low growl from him.

He presses his body against yours, the hardness of his cock grinding slowly against your thigh. The friction makes you gasp, and he silences it with another deep kiss, his weight pinning you down. Your mind races—images of your parents' bedroom door opening, footsteps in the hall—but Wonwoo's touch drowns it out, his hand slipping lower to cup you over your underwear, fingers pressing against the damp fabric.

“Already wet for me,” he murmurs, voice husky as he nips at your earlobe. “Good.”

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down in one smooth motion; you try to clamp your thighs together, cheeks burning. But he pries them apart gently, settling between your legs, his broad shoulders forcing you open.

“Spread for me. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

You obey, heart pounding, as he leans down, his breath ghosting over your inner thighs. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to hold you still. Your anxiety spikes again—what if a moan escapes? What if the bed creaks too loud? You cover your own mouth with one hand, but Wonwoo shakes his head, prying it away.

“No. I'll handle that.” He shifts up briefly to kiss you once more, softer this time, reassuring, before trailing kisses down your chest. He pushes your top up, exposing your tits, and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the mattress.

A muffled cry builds in your throat, but he releases your nipple with a pop, moving lower, his lips brushing your stomach, then the sensitive skin just above your mound. Your pussy aches, slick and ready, and he inhales deeply, smirking up at you.

“Been craving this. Do you know how hard it was pretending to be the perfect boyfriend while I wanted to bend you over that dinner table?” His words send heat flooding through you, and you squirm, thighs trembling.

Finally, he dips his head, tongue flicking out to trace your outer lips, teasing you without mercy. You bite your lip hard, but a soft whine escapes anyway. Wonwoo's eyes snap up, locking on yours as he reaches up and presses his palm flat over your mouth, fingers splaying across your cheeks. The pressure is firm, muffling any sound, his skin warm and slightly calloused against your lips.

“Quiet now,” he commands, voice a low rumble. “Or I'll stop.”

You nod frantically under his hand, eyes pleading, and he rewards you by flattening his tongue against your clit. The sensation hits like lightning—wet, hot pressure that makes your hips buck. He holds you down with his free arm across your waist, his mouth working you relentlessly. His tongue circles your clit, then dips lower to push inside you, tasting your arousal with hungry laps.

“Fuck, you taste perfect,” he whispers against your skin, the words vibrating through your core. His hand stays sealed over your mouth, thumb stroking your cheek in contrast to the dominance. “So wet, dripping for me. My good little slut, creaming on my tongue while your parents’ sleep.”

The dirty praise seeps into your veins, making you clench around nothing, your body betraying how much you need him. He sucks your clit into his mouth, then soothes with broad licks that have you writhing below him.

Your hands fist the sheets, knuckles white, as waves of pleasure build. He hums in approval, the sound sending vibrations straight to your nerves. He pushes one finger into your pussy slowly, aiming to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. You moan into his palm, the sound trapped and desperate, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity.

“That's it, baby,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your juices. “Squeezing me already. You love this, don't you?”

He adds a second finger, thrusting them in and out while his tongue returns to your clit, flicking rapidly. His hand over your mouth tightens slightly when you get too loud, a warning press.

He devours you methodically, tongue lapping at your folds, sucking your clit until it's swollen and throbbing. His fingers pump faster, scissoring inside you, stretching your walls as your arousal coats his hand. You can hear the wet sounds—slurps and squelches that seem deafening in the quiet room—and it mortifies you, cheeks flushing under his grip. What if they hear that? But Wonwoo doesn't care; he groans into your pussy, the vibration making you shudder.

“Come on, soak my face,” he whispers, voice muffled against you. “I want to feel my girl gush for me.”

The praise pushes you closer, your body coiling like a spring. He senses it, increasing the pace—tongue swirling, fingers crooking relentlessly against your g-spot. Your thighs quake around his head, trying to close, but he shoves them wider with his shoulders, burying his face deeper. The orgasm crashes over you, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, juices flooding his tongue. You scream into his hand, the sound absorbed by his skin, body convulsing in silent ecstasy.

Wonwoo doesn't stop, licking you through it, drawing out every tremor until you're oversensitive and twitching. Only then does he ease back, removing his hand from your mouth slowly, letting you gasp for air. His chin drips with your release, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, smirking down at your wrecked form.

“See? Kept you quiet just fine.” Wonwoo eases his fingers out of your pussy with a wet pop, the sound obscene in the hushed room, leaving you clenching around emptiness.

Your body still hums from the orgasm, thighs slick and trembling, but the anxiety hasn't fully faded—but he's not done. His eyes darken as he unties his sweatpants.

“Now, turn over. I need to fuck you.” The aftershocks of pleasure make you compliant, rolling onto your stomach as his cock springs free, thick and hard, and he rubs the head against your soaked entrance. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up,” he growls.

You whimper, face half-buried in the pillow, the soft cotton muffling the sound, but he tugs your head up just enough to expose your face. His free hand snakes around, fingers brushing your lips before clamping over your mouth from the side, palm sealing tight. “No noise, remember? Or do you want Mommy and Daddy to see what a slut their good girl really is?”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, shame and desire twisting together as you nod against his grip. His cock nudges your entrance, thick head parting your lips, and he pushes in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching your walls with that familiar burn.

Unprotected, raw—you feel every ridge, every vein as he sinks deeper, bottoming out with a low groan that vibrates against your back. His hips flush against your ass, he stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his breath hot on your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he whispers, lips grazing your ear, his hand firm over your mouth to catch any gasp. “Like this cunt was made for me.”

He starts moving then, pulling out halfway before thrusting back in, the motion deliberate, controlled. You push back against him instinctively, meeting his thrusts, the slap of skin on skin growing louder despite your efforts to stay quiet. His hand muffles your moans, fingers digging into your cheek just enough to sting, a reminder of his control.

“That's it,” he growls softly, pace quickening.

He punctuates each thrust, his cock plunging deeper, the head brushing that sensitive spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your arms tremble, elbows buckling as pleasure builds again, coiling tight in your core. The fullness of him has arousal trickling down your thighs.

He notices, chuckling darkly against your neck. “So wet, you’re creaming all over my cock.”

You try to respond, but it comes out as a desperate whine into his palm, tongue pressing against his skin. He rewards you by reaching around and rubbing your clit. The dual sensation—his thick shaft filling you, the friction on your swollen nub—has your body seizing, walls fluttering around him.

His hand over your mouth tightens when a louder moan builds, and Wonwoo tilts your head back, exposing your throat. He bites down there lightly, teeth grazing, then sucks another mark that'll need covering tomorrow.

His roughness pushes you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you without warning. Your pussy spasms around his cock, sucking him in further as waves of ecstasy crash over you, thighs quaking. You cry out into his hand, the sound trapped and vibrating against his skin, body arching as you grind back, chasing every pulse. Wonwoo groans low, thrusts turning erratic, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, yes—take it all,” he hisses, burying himself deep one last time. His cock throbs inside you, hot spurts of cum flooding your walls, painting you from the inside as he grinds against your ass, prolonging it.

His hand slips from your mouth slowly, letting you suck in air, lips tingling. He pulls out with a slick sound, watching his cum start to drip from your pussy, a satisfied smirk on his face.

It wasn’t until your good boy was sixteen that things started to shift. His friends were all having their first sexual encounters, and they began to tease your perfect church baby that he was a virgin. Mingyu tried to pretend their words didn’t hurt, but you knew differently. Although you tried to push him in the direction of spending more time with other church children, Mingyu continued to hang out with these raunchy boys, as they were on his high school basketball team. 

He held off valiantly from the compulsions of the deadly sins, but one cold December night, your perfect golden boy finally snapped and gave in to temptation.

The demon known as Wonwoo appeared the moment Mingyu first typed the words ‘porn hub’ into his cellphone, and in the darkness of Mingyu’s room, you met the man who would be your antihero for as long as Mingyu would continue to live.

And Wonwoo is a demon with a reputation. Whereas you like to cherry-pick your wards as the kindhearted humans who are pure of soul, Wonwoo is known for his ability to sniff out those who are easily tempted by sin. His last human was a sexual fiend, and he got addicted to OnlyFans. he lost his relationship and all of his money due to Wonwoo’s coaxing of the addiction. The man died prematurely while drunk driving, which is something of a success story for the demon who collected his soul in the end. 

So why was this demon in particular here with you and Mingyu?

What had seemed like an easy task had become more difficult than you ever signed up for, and Wonwoo seemed to relish in the knowledge that he was here to contradict your every musing in Mingyu’s ear.

One:

“I hope you have your popcorn ready, angel,” Wonwoo grins, as the two of you hover in your between-worlds guardian posting. It’s kind of like an apartment, with two sides, the good and the evil, with a massive monitor to watch what Mingyu is doing at any given time. There are speakers for you both to try to persuade him into things, and your voices are what Mingyu might classify as opposing sides of his subconscious.

“Frat parties can be positive,” you insist as you settle next to Wonwoo. “Last time, he saved that girl who blacked out.”

“Yeah, the wild goose chase,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “He should have been hitting on girls and slamming jello shots, but instead, you convinced him to track down the girl’s dorm room, carry her all the way home, and make sure she was okay when she woke up hours later. He even held her hair back while she puked. Yuck.”

When Wonwoo knows he’s lost to you, he generally fucks off, goes back into his demon side of the apartment, in his demon room,  or leaves altogether to complete other tasks.

Demons don’t need sleep, and technically, angels don’t either, but you’re a self-identifying lazy girl, and you prefer to have rest when Mingyu sleeps, rather than be twenty-four seven working like Wonwoo is. You wonder if his packed schedule is what makes him such a dick, but you also have seen the joy he takes in doing bad deeds, and you can only assume that when he’s not here with you in Mingyu’s head, he’s off pillaging and causing mischief elsewhere.

Wonwoo looks through Mingyu’s eyes, and he leans toward the communicator where he can send his words to your ward. “Get a drink,” Wonwoo insists. “Something fun. Something fruity. Something with way too much alcohol that’s masked with sugar.”

You sigh, also leaning forward. “We should start slow with some water.”

You can sense Mingyu’s inner turmoil as he makes his way to the kitchen, and that’s where he bumps into Hoshi and Seungkwan, both of whom are ruled by their inner demon.

“Hey buddy, want a drink?” Hoshi grins, cheeks pink, eyes clouded with booze.

“Reject him,” you say.

“Accept,” Wonwoo pushes. 

“Sure, why not?” Mingyu grins, taking the cup of purple liquid. He downs it easily, and you sigh. So tonight will be a more indulgent evening, and you hate the way Wonwoo sits back with a smile.

“Score one for me, angel,” Wonwoo muses.

“The night is still young,” you huff.

Wonwoo leans forward again. “You know what goes good with alcohol? Cocaine. Or ecstasy. Something fun. Maybe molly.” 

You’re flabbergasted. “Mingyu has never-”

“Now is the night to start, he’s at a frat party, with friends, and we know Vernon always has a bong on hand. Maybe weed, something chill.”

You hate him, and you spend the next two hours battling Wonwoo for dominance of Mingyu. Wonwoo wins when it comes to alcohol, but your sweet boy isn’t interested in drugs, no matter how much the demon insists it’s the perfect night to dabble.

And that’s when Mingyu first lays eyes on Kimi. 

She’s a year younger than him, someone he’s heard about and seen a few times, but never talked to. She looks gorgeous, in a flowy top and jeans that hug her just right. You can sense Mingyu’s heartbeat quickening, and in his drunkenness, he’s even more susceptible to Wonwoo, who leans forward. “You should fuck her tonight, there’s never a time to be a whore like the present.”

“No sex, you like her!” you argue back. “Talk to her, get her name, look for longevity.”

Wonwoo scoffs. “A one-night stand with a girl like that? Who could think of something better?” 

“Uh, maybe a relationship?” you snap. 

“We don’t know anything about her!” Wonwoo yells. “And we don’t need to know.” 

You lean back from where Mingyu can hear your subconscious pushings, glaring at Wonwoo. “What’s with you and rough, anonymous sex?”

“It’s the best way to have it,” Wonwoo tells you, his grin widening. “I think our Mingyu boy would love to try some of the things he’s seen in the porn I’ve pushed him to watch. You know, bondage, tying a girl up, all the good shit.”

“Consentually, of course.”

“With you here, it would always have to be consensual,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“You’re despicable.”

“I’m a demon.”

“Even demons have their limits.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Not really.”

“Well, my Mingyu is a good person. He’d never stoop to your level.”

“Well, he watches the porn I want to watch.”

You click your tongue. Wonwoo convincing Mingyu to watch porn is always the worst, and it’s when you leave the viewing station. The demon can be particularly convincing when it comes to observing sex acts on Mingyu’s phone, but you know your good boy would never go further than simply watching. He’s not the type to ever act on some of the more raunchy ideas Wonwoo forces into his head.

No matter how hard Wonwoo pushes, you know your Mingyu.

And you’re thankful that by the end of the night at the frat party, Mingyu agrees with you that he’s now too drunk, and he retires to bed.

The viewing station goes dark as Mingyu drifts to sleep, and you stand up with a sigh, glaring at Wonwoo. 

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to admit that you kind of like the whole bondage sex thing,” Wonwoo sighs.

“What?” you gasp.

“You always leave the room when he and I watch porn.”

“Because I’m a pure being! Because porn and sex go against what I stand for!”

“Porn and lust might be ‘anti-angel’, but sex is natural; it’s God-created. Humans are like any other animal, and they’re meant to have sex, to procreate,” Wonwoo says simply. “I know you’re loose on your whole ‘celibate until marriage’ ideals. When Mingyu lost his virginity, you were happy because it was soft. You might be an angel, but you don’t follow a strict code, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you follow the bible to the letter. I’m just curious how loose your morals really are. You might think I’m here to test Mingyu, but I’m really here to test you.” 

“And who do you think you are to test me?” you glare.

Wonwoo shrugs. “Just a demon who specializes in lust, a demon who took one look at you on Mingyu’s shoulder and decided, ‘you know what, I’d fuck that angel.’”

“As if that’s a compliment.”

“It is, most angels have sticks up their asses the size of the Empire State Building. And don’t get me wrong, you have a stick up yours too, I’m just curious if you’d want something else up inside of you at the same time.”

“I can’t believe you,” you groan, hating the way your body reacts to his sinister smirk, the slight floodyness of his hair, and the regal way he stares at you.

“You don’t have to believe me when I say I want to defile you. I’ll prove it to you soon enough,” Wonwoo’s smirk widens. “You might be an angel, but angels aren’t impervious to sin. After all, demons were angels once, until they stopped lying to themselves and gave in to the carnal pleasures. We’ll get there, don’t worry. I might be a demon, but I can be patient.” 

Two:

“Hold it, you’re not going anywhere,” Wonwoo grins, grabbing your arm as you’re about to leave the room, when Mingyu pulls up pornhub with Kimi on his mind. 

“I’m not sitting here with you for this; it’s weird,” you insist, pulling yourself away from him, hating the way the cold of his touch lingers on your skin.

“Boys will be boys, let the man find some release,” Wonwoo tells you, his grin widening.

“Boys may be boys, but you were whispering in Mingyu’s ear all day that he should have a jack off session and think about ‘that chick from the frat party.’”

Wonwoo shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard to convince him.”

You let out a deep breath. 

“Watch this,” Wonwoo leans forward so Mingyu can hear him. “Look up ‘rope BDSM.’”

“Oh my gosh!” You cover your eyes with your hands as Mingyu quickly follows through with Wonwoo’s suggestion.

“There’s something so sexy about having complete control of another person,” Wonwoo insists, leaning back and staring at you with dark eyes. “Admit it, you liked controlling Mingyu before I showed up.”

“It’s not remotely the same.”

“It is, sort of.” The demon shrugs. “You like control. I know you do. Because every time you don’t get your way, you have a little fit.”

“I do not!”

“Look at you, angel, you’re practically stomping your cute little foot right now.” Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, and you hate how attractive it is. “If you play your cards right, someday, I might let you have a little control over me.”

“What, like tie you up?” you scoff.

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Does that excite you?”

“In your dreams,” you snap.

“Angel, we both know I don’t sleep. But I do imagine things, things about you…”

Your breath catches.

“I imagine what you sound like, what you taste like. I imagine the look in your eye when I have you immobilized and at my mercy. I imagine making you crack, making you finally admit that pleasure is exactly what it means in the dictionary; the feelings of delight, something you enjoy with every fiber of your being, something you’d beg for me to give you again and again.” 

Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and it’s crazy to you that Wonwoo can say everything he just said with a completely straight face. He has zero shame in admitting the things he’s just admitted, and yet, you feel like the dirty one. 

“I’m leaving,” you say again, more firmly this time.

“I won’t stop you; you have full control of yourself, and that’s what makes this interesting.” Wonwoo turns his attention back to the screen, where Mingyu is now in the throes of enjoying porn. 

“You’re evil,” you snap.

“I’m a demon, it’s part of the job description,” Wonwoo says absentmindedly.

You fight the urge to stomp your foot, and with one last scoff of displeasure, you go back to your quarters, throwing yourself down onto your bed with a muffled scream. 

Three:

It’s been a month of chaos. Wonwoo has become somehow even more dirty, and every time he whispers some sexual idea in Mingyu’s ear, his eyes are fixed on you. 

You squirm when he mentions bondage, porn, rough sex, and more dirty things that are not for an angel’s ears. 

And to make matters worse, you know that Wonwoo is imagining himself doing all of these dirty things to you. To be the object of sin and desire is new to you, and it brings an uncomfortable feeling to the pit of your stomach.

You grapple with yourself every night, unable to get Wonwoo’s voice out of your head.

The word ‘tantalizing’ has never had much merit for you, but now, you understand. Wonwoo oozes sex and intrigue; he makes your mind go to places it's never before visited; dark, lustful places that make your heart race and your skin tingle. 

The little smirk that quirks onto his lips when he knows he’s irritated you has become burned into your mind's eye, and you can’t escape the shiny points of his canines, or the flash of black that overtakes his irises when he’s being demonic. 

You can feel your resolve to stay true to your morals is slipping, and in its place is a growing need that’s threatening to overtake you, body and soul.

This is the power of a truly strong demon, and it both scares and excites you while you war with yourself. 

Four:

After another long day of Wonwoo being raunchy, Mingyu finally goes to sleep. The viewer goes dark, and you stand up with a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” you muse, “but I’m thankful you didn’t push for more porn.”

“He’s on a streak, you know,” Wonwoo smirks. “But I figured I could let you off the hook for one night.”

“Let my pure boy off the hook, you mean.”

“No, I meant what I said. You’re the one who has a problem with it, not Mingyu. He’s just a hot-blooded man who’s hardly had any good sex in his life. A bit of porn can’t hurt.”

You roll your eyes. “Scientists who study the interaction between porn and erectile dysfunction would beg to differ.”

“Human scientists.” Wonwoo’s smirk widens. 

“I’m not having an argument with you, I’m off the clock.”

“Off the clock,” the demon repeats with a chuckle. 

“Yes, off the clock, which means I also don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“You enjoy ‘dealing with me.’” Wonwoo insists.

You scoff loudly. “In what diluted world can you come to that conclusion?”

The demon steps closer to you. “The world where I’m a demon who can read sexual energy, and lately, it’s been wafting off your aura like smoke. And where there’s smoke, well, there’s fire.”

“I think you should get your eyes checked,” you fire at him, your arms crossing over your chest in an effort to keep that ‘sexual energy’ contained. 

“You’re such a virgin that it’s almost laughable,” Wonwoo tells you, his voice lowering. “Most angels don’t have the kind of lustful energy you do, virginity and all, but every being that exists is plagued by at least one of the seven deadly sins, angels included. It seems to me that your carnal desire is sex, which isn’t anything to be ashamed of. I’ve worked with angels who are greedy, angels who have a sense of divine wrath, but pride is the main trait I’ve seen. One could argue that all three of those sins are more disgusting on an angel than that of simply wanting to be touched, to experience one’s form to the fullest.” 

Your mouth feels dry, and you lick your lips, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t worry, angel, I don’t need a response, not really. But… I would never defile an angel without her wanting it, so when I ask you this next question, I’ll need at least an enthusiastic nod if not a verbal ‘yes.’”

“What do you need to ask me?” you whisper.

Wonwoo is close enough to touch you now, and he reaches for your hand, tracing his thumb against your palm. Your mind is telling you to pull away, but you can’t. His touch is cold, but there’s something so nice about it…

“Can I kiss you?” Wonwoo asks, his words hanging in the air like a heavy smog.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to help, and you stare at the beautiful demon. Your body is screaming yes, but your mind is still plagued with trepidation. 

“It’s a sin.”

“A kiss isn’t a sin, and besides, you’re off the clock, remember?” His smirk is just so beautiful, and you have to remind yourself that even though he’s a demon, Wonwoo was crafted by God’s own hands. “I think you can forgive yourself for a small misdemeanor, after all, humans are forgiven for much worse.”

“I…” Your heart is hammering in your rib cage, and never in your long life have you felt a desire like this.

“Or… I could wait,” Wonwoo sighs. “I won’t pressure you. I’m a demon, but I’m not an asshole.”

The idea of waiting even longer makes your skin tingle, and you can feel a frown of dissatisfaction appearing on your face.

“You can kiss me,” you say, and the words feel foreign on your tongue.

“Even though you hate me?” Wonwoo grins, cocking a brow.

“Even though I hate you.”

The demon lets out a laugh, dropping your hand in favour of grabbing your hips. He pulls you toward him, being shockingly gentle for a man who’s so outspoken about his taste for rough sex.

“Nobody has to know about this,” Wonwoo whispers as he leans closer. “Even angels are allowed to have dirty little secrets.”

“Then this will be our little secret,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as your hands instinctively go to his shoulder, tugging the demon even closer.

He meets your gaze as he slowly leans in, giving you all the time in the world to change your mind. But you’re in too deep now, and there’s no going back.

His lips press against yours gently, and your whole body is flooded with what you can only describe as pleasure, like a cool breeze wafting over you on an extremely hot day. You want more, and Wonwoo tugs you closer by your hips, his tongue snaking out to rub your lower lip.

Your mouth opens a little, a whimper escaping you as the kiss deepens. Wonwoo releases a low growl, and butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach from the sound.

Nothing in the world has ever made you feel this way, as if you’re glowing, and all because a dark being is tantalizing you toward sin.

With a gasp, you pull away, breathing heavily. 

Wonwoo holds you, not pushing for more; he gives you mental space to analyze what’s just happened, while still keeping you physically close, like a protector.

It’s such an odd notion, the idea that a demon could be any sort of protection for an angel like you. 

“I think…” You swallow thickly. “I think I need to have some time alone now.”

“I understand,” Wonwoo nods, his hands slipping away from your hips. “The ball is in your court, angel. Until you decide what you want to do, this is our little secret.”

“Our little secret,” you repeat like a mantra, but the words don’t do anything to help the anxiety building inside of you. It’s as if at any moment you could be struck down for impurity, except, even when you’re alone later, no hand of God comes to smite you.

You think carefully about what Wonwoo’s said, about all living things having their sinful, carnal desires, even angels.

Maybe this is natural, maybe this is okay… maybe. 

Five:

You’ve been yearning for Wonwoo in a way you’ve never yearned for anything since your creation. It’s taking every ounce of your self-restraint to keep your distance from him, and Wonwoo’s not making any of it easy.

Every dirty whisper in Mingyu’s ear, every glance at you while he talks about sex, bondage, and porn… 

It has your heart racing, your skin heating, and your core throbbing in a way that used to be foreign but is now becoming all too familiar. 

“Should I push for more sin tonight?” Wonwoo asks as Mingyu gets ready for bed. “Or have you had enough?”

You groan, knowing that you’re wet from the day you’ve had. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He cocks a brow.

“I’m so tired of all of this.”

“Tired of fighting your own desires, you mean,” Wonwoo corrects, seeing right through you.

You hate that your ‘sexual aura’ is visible to him, hate that no matter how hard you try to fight it, Wonwoo will always know the truth.

And the truth is: you want this demon to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked. You want to get a taste of the sin he has to offer, the sin he claims other angels partake in secretly.

Why are you holding yourself back, holding yourself to a set of standards, if others in your angelic profession don’t?

“What are you thinking about?” Wonwoo asks, watching you carefully.

You release a deep breath. “Everything.”

“Sounds like a lot,” the demon chuckles.

“It is.”

“Too much for a sweet angel like you to carry on her own shoulders.” 

You study his face, wondering if he’s being condescending or not.

“Being a demon is much easier. I don’t have to worry about anything,” Wonwoo continues, leaning back in his seat. “No rules, no standards, no fear. Just existence. Freedom.”

“I’m free,” you insist.

“Are you really?” Wonwoo grins. “Could have fooled me.”

“I am free! I’m an angel! I have the most freedom in the world!”

“Freedom to kiss who you want to kiss? To act on the desires that were literally built into you? Why would God have made you with the sin of lust if he did not intend for you to act on it? To torture you for your entire existence?” Wonwoo shakes his head. 

“He bestowed temptation so his creations could rise above it and devote themselves to Him,” you insist. “It teaches spiritual strength and perseverance.”

“Whatever you say, little Miss Sunday School.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo grins.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because it makes me want you even more!” you scream. “For a reason I can not comprehend, I want you. I want you for the teasing, for the chastizing, for this disgusting ego that I would never condone on a human ward. I want it. I want all of you. And it’s killing me!”

Wonwoo stands up abruptly, and you mirror him, heart racing in your chest.

You can’t believe you’ve just admitted all of it, all of the deep dark things you’ve been thinking about for weeks.

“An ego can be sexy,” Wonwoo says finally. “Although I’d classify myself as more of a prideful being than an egotistical one.” 

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, hating that his smirk is the most handsome thing you’ve ever seen, hating that he’s right. 

“Tell me you want this again,” Wonwoo urges you, stepping closer.

“I want you! You already heard me say it!” Your skin is hot with irritation, both sexual and emotional, and you can hardly think straight.

“No, tell me you want this.” Wonwoo grabs your hand, tugging you to his chest. He looks down at you, his lips almost ghosting over your own.

“I want this,” you whimper, feeling defeated and broken. 

You can no longer hold yourself back, and part of you doesn’t want to.

“I’ll be gentle,” the demon promises, bringing his mouth down to your throat, where he presses soft kisses that take your breath away. 

“I thought you liked it rough,” you say, releasing a chuckle that brings your anxiety down.

“I also like pleasure. I’m prideful, not a narcissist. Tonight, your pleasure will come first.”

Your skin tingles, and you swallow a lump in your throat. You can feel your fear dissipating. Part of you had imagined he’d want to try bondage with you right away, so it’s a relief that he’s going to meet you at your level, which is… well, nonexistent.

You are a free being. And tonight, you will lose your heavenly virginity of your own volition.

Wonwoo begins to suck on a spot just below your ear, and it makes you moan. You throw your arms around the demon, tugging him closer.

One of Wonwoo’s hands slips down to your bum, squeezing you through your white pants. 

God, he feels so good, and you focus on the feeling, pushing aside your racing thoughts.

You draw his lips to yours, and Wonwoo groans with pleasure, tugging you so you’re flush to his body. 

Kissing him is like magic, and you get lost in it easily. Your core is wet, and you can feel your panties getting sticky, which is a tantalizing thought.

“Bedroom,” Wonwoo says, breaking the kiss. 

Without missing a beat, the demon reaches down and lifts you bridal style. You gasp, clutching onto his shoulders and blinking up at him. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Wonwoo laughs. “As if I was about to take your virginity in a living room.” 

He heads toward your side of the apartment, and he pushes the door of your bedroom open.

Your room is all creams and minimalism, a true safe space, and he pauses to look at it for a moment. He’s never been in your room, nor you in his.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just… very different from my side of the space.” 

“No whips and chains hanging on the walls?” you tease.

“How about no black onyx floors or dark colours.”

“Well, I am an angel,” you point out as he gently sets you on the bed. 

“Yes, baby, the best angel I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” 

“Without a doubt. The most angelic.” Wonwoo climbs on top of you, and your legs spread instinctively as the demon looks down at you. “I’ve never met an angel who has never sinned. It’s endearing.”

“Will you still find me endearing after tonight?” you ask.

“I’ll find you endearing forever,” Wonwoo promises.

“Who knew such sweet words could come from a demon.”

Wonwoo laughs. “If anyone deserves sweet words from me, it’s you.”

“You’re just saying that to get me in bed.”

“We’re already in bed.”

“Good point.” You grab the nape of his neck, tugging his lips down to yours.

This verbal foreplay has become trite, and you’re ready for more, ready for all Wonwoo is about to give you.

For the first time, you taste desperation on his lips, and it excites you. He grinds gently down against you, and it’s the first time there’s been pressure on your core. Tingles of pleasure run through you as you tighten your legs around his hips, willing him to push harder.

Wonwoo groans, following through with your silent plea. He ruts hard as you kiss each other, stimulating your clit through your clothing.

One of his hands reaches up and grabs your breast through your white sweater, massaging you and making you gasp.

“Such pretty sounds,” Wonwoo whispers, biting your earlobe gently. “Can’t wait to hear you screaming my name.”

“Wonwoo,” you whimper, wiggling beneath him, eager for more.

He sits up, and with one tug, Wonwoo removes your sweater, leaving you in a cream bra. 

“All white everything, huh?” he laughs.

“I’m an angel.”

“So you keep reminding me. You always wear such loose, modest clothing, but I imagined you’d be gorgeous under all these layers.” He licks his lips, his thumb teasing the lace of your bra. “Should I go slow?” 

“Go medium,” you tell him.

Wonwoo lets out another chuckle. “That wasn’t one of the options.”

“Make it one of the options.”

He shakes his head at you, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

You thread your fingers through his raven black hair, mewling as he massages you through your bra. Your nipples are aching already, and there’s a sense of great relief when he finally takes your bra off. 

“So pretty,” Wonwoo muses, kissing down from your throat to your breasts, where he captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

You whimper desperately, your entire body on fire with the pleasure.

“And so sensitive too,” the demon groans, gently dragging his teeth over your sensitive bud.

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please, what?” he looks up at you.

You let out a shuddery breath. “More.”

 “Your wish is my command, angel,” Wonwoo teases, his hand gliding down your body. Deft fingers slip under the waistband of your pants, but he stays over your panties as he makes contact with your clit.

You writhe against the bedding, eyes clenched shut as foreign ecstasy washes over you.

He continues to suck on your nipple as he toys with your pussy.

“Soaking through your panties,” Wonwoo tuts. “My dirty girl.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you’re shocked that you like the way his words feel. It’s a sinful kind of praise, and it makes you dizzy as you watch him, anticipating what he’ll do next. 

Wonwoo takes his time as he licks and sucks your nipples, playing with your pussy through drenched fabric.

It’s a relief when he finally tugs your pants down, leaving you in only panties.

Then, Wonwoo sits up, tugging his shirt off with one motion.

Your jaw drops at the view of his bare torso. He’s lean but muscled, and you wish you could trace the lines on his skin, but Wonwoo made it clear that tonight is about you. 

“I’m going to eat you out now,” Wonwoo explains, as he sinks to the floor. “Bet you taste like nectar and sunshine.”

Talking about your ‘taste’ makes you shy, and you close your thighs, only for him to gently pry them open.

“Don’t be bashful, baby,” Wonwoo coos, pressing kisses to your skin. 

“What if I don’t taste like nectar and sunshine?” you ask.

“I can already smell it on you,” Wonwoo promises, an attempt to be assuring, but now you’re talking about smell, and it makes you even more anxious. “You know what, let’s leave taste and smell out of this for now, okay?”

“Yes, please,” you nod, biting your bottom lip.

Wonwoo hooks his fingers in your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs.

The cool air of the room on your wet core makes you groan, back arching a little as you writhe against the bed.

Cold hands grab your thighs, confidently spreading you open. 

“Just breathe,” Wonwoo reminds you as he leans forward and licks the entirety of your core lewdly.

“Shit!” you gasp, thighs quaking.

The demon chuckles. “That’s the first time you’ve ever swore.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, and he shakes his head at you, returning to his task.

Soon, you’re moaning through your fingers, and your other hand reaches down to grab at his hair, keeping his face buried between your thighs.

He eats you out like a starved man, ravaging your pussy with licks and sucks that have your head spinning in the best possible way.

And then Wonwoo begins to growl, and you’ve never heard anything so erotic.

Your own gasps and whimpers are filling the room, and you can feel something getting tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

“Wonwoo,” you pant. “I think… I think I’m going to cum!”

He releases a groan, and the vibration of it on your clit makes your legs shake. All of your muscles are tense, waiting for that final push-

Then you look down, and your eyes lock with his. His pupils are blown, and he looks absolutely demonic, but there’s something so incredibly sexy about this powerful demon worshiping you with his mouth on your core-

You cum like an electric shock, your entire body jolting, muscles releasing only to clench again as the waves surge through you.

You scream, grabbing at the bed sheets like an anchor as your orgasm overtakes you.

Wonwoo is unrelenting on your core, groaning and eating you messily, and it only makes the whole situation more erotic.

You’ve been to Heaven, but nothing has ever felt like this.

“Wonwoo!” you scream when the pleasure begins to feel like it’s too much, like you can’t contain or sustain this type of ecstasy anymore.

The demon pulls away immediately, looking up at you.

“Angel,” he breathes, “you’re glowing.”

“What?”

“You’re glowing,” he repeats. Wonwoo grabs your hand from the bed, lifting it so you can see that your skin is literally aglow.

“Is this normal?” you gasp in panic.

“I’ve never seen it.”

“And you fuck a lot of angels?” you snap.

“Not really,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I find most of you to be too high-strung.”

“I’m high-strung.”

“But it’s endearing on you.” His thumb gently rubs your glit, and you jolt, releasing a gasp. “Glowing can’t be harmful.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure it’s just pent-up energy,” he muses. “Should I give you more?”

You take all of one second to consider his words before nodding. “More.”

Wonwoo nuzzles against your inner thigh with a laugh, and then he teases a digit between your pussy lips, gently sinking it into you.

You groan, your inner walls having never been touched before.

“So warm,” Wonwoo breathes. “So tight.”

He gently finger fucks you, teasing your hole open, and he brings his mouth to your clit again.

His pace is slow, and you know he’s letting you acclimate to the stimulus. 

You can feel yourself dripping on his digit, and the slick is making it all too easy for him to work you open. Soon, he adds another finger, and you groan desperately, loving the slight stretch.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers before I give you the real thing,” Wonwoo explains.

“Okay,” you whimper.

He returns to sucking on your clit, but he’s not being as gentle as he was before.

You can feel that tension building again, and with each slick sound of his fingers fucking into you, you know you’re getting closer to the edge.

Whimpers escape your lips, and you gasp when he crooks his fingers, hitting a spot that has your whole body coming alight with pleasure.

You’ve heard Wonwoo talk about the ‘g-spot’ before, and you’re pretty sure he just found yours.

Your toes are curling, muscles getting incredibly tight as his pace quickens.

“I’m close!” you cry out, grabbing the bed sheets again, your heart racing in your chest.

Wonwoo groans a sound of affirmation, and again, his noise of pleasure is what sends you over the edge.

Just like the first time, he works you through your orgasm, unrelenting, while the pleasure courses through you. You’re a throbbing, whimpering mess by the time Wonwoo pulls away, and you watch with shy delight as he licks his fingers clean, moaning at your taste.

“How did that one feel, angel?” he asks. 

“So good,” you whimper. 

Wonwoo stands up, looking down at your nude form.

“Ready for the real deal?”

“I’m scared,” you admit, seeing the outline of his cock through his pants.

“That’s natural,” Wonwoo breathes, undoing his belt. “And if you still want to change your mind…”

“No.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Let’s do this.” 

Wonwoo pulls his pants down, and suddenly, his cock is slapping up against his stomach.

Your jaw drops at the sight of him. He’s long… well, you’re pretty sure he’s long, not that you have much to compare it to. 

“That’s going to fit inside of me?” you ask.

“Angel, your pussy is wetter than a slip and slide, it won’t be a problem,” Wonwoo laughs.

“Just… go slow.”

“Not medium?” he teases.

“Wonwoo…” you groan.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises, now fully nude as he climbs on top of you. “Don’t worry.”

Wonwoo presses his lips to yours, and you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pouring all of your attention into the meeting of your mouths.

Wonwoo slowly begins to rut, teasing his cock through your wet pussy lips and bumping your clit. The grinding feels phenomenal, and soon you’re a moaning mess beneath him, your core aching to be filled.

As if he can read you, the demon reaches for the base of his cock, lining the tip up with your wet hole. His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to speak if you need him to pause or slow down, but as his tip slips inside of you, you realize there will be no need for breaks.

Sure, the stretch is new, but it’s not bad.

In fact, your pussy is trying to swallow him up, and with each inch after inch, you feel more and more complete.

Wonwoo truly is your opposite, the yin to your yang, and it feels phenomenal to finally be connected like this.

“You okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can see his muscles feathering, as if it’s taking every ounce of self-control for him not to let loose and fuck you stupid.

“Feels good,” you groan, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him further into you. 

Wonwoo moans deeply, and a moment later, he’s fully sheathed in your wet core.

You both release sounds of pleasure together, and your lips meet in a fiery kiss.

You love tangling your fingers in his hair, and it makes him kiss you harder. He’s still fully inside of you, unmoving as your walls adjust, but soon, your own hips are rocking, and he takes the cue to begin to thrust.

The first movement is shallow and slow, and you revel in the drag of his cock against your inner walls.

You cry out, throwing your head back, and Wonwoo latches onto your throat, sucking and nibbling.

Your pebbled nipples press against his chest, and each movement toys with them.

You can feel Wonwoo everywhere. He’s completely commanding every one of your senses, and not a single thought is going through your mind except for one word: more. 

His pace is increasing, and you get the sense that he’s reacting to your sounds, figuring you out based on your whimpering and whining.

You pull Wonwoo away from your throat by his hair, and you open your eyes, looking up at him.

God, he truly is the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen. 

He’s truly a vision, lust-blown pupils and all, his hair a mess from where you’re tugging on it. 

You breathe in each other, lips almost meeting but just separate, and the teasing makes everything more seductive.

Wonwoo pulls out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your side. He moves behind you, a cold big spoon as he enters you again. His breath is hot on your shoulders, and he takes the opportunity to gently bite your neck, making you gasp. You reach behind yourself, grabbing his hair again, which earns you a groan of pleasure. 

His hand is on your hip, and he fucks into you desperately, adjusting your body ever so slightly, opening your leg a little so he can hit deeper.

“Wonwoo!” you whimper when his hand slips from your hips to your core, his fingers teasing your clit.

“That’s it, scream my name,” he grins, biting your earlobe and making you shiver.

“Wonwoo!” you say it louder this time, unable to contain yourself as he works you closer and closer to the edge again.

“Gonna cum on my cock, huh, angel?” he chuckles. 

“Yes, I’m so close,” you whimper, pussy tightening around him.

“Not yet.” Wonwoo pulls out of you suddenly, and you whine, only for him to adjust you. 

Now you’re sitting on top of him, with Wonwoo propped against the headboard.

“Why am I on top?” you ask, confused.

“Oh angel,” he licks your nipple, “just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re the one who is in control.”

His hands are on your hips again, and he lifts you slightly, allowing him to plow up into you.

You cry out from how deep his cock is hitting you, from the way he’s using you like a ragdoll.

You throw your head back, and his mouth latches onto your nipple. Your hands fly to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he fucks you stupid.

Each smack down of your core on his cock has pressure on your clit, and you can feel that orgasm bubbling again.

You feel drunk, or, what you think being drunk would feel like. It’s a pleasurable dizziness, a mind numbing euphoria and a tingling that flutters through your entire body.

Wonwoo growls, and you know it’s a sound of affirmation, a sound to push you toward the edge.

A few more rough thrusts have you tumbling into ecstasy, your entire core clamping down on Wonwoo’s cock. Your head falls forward, your lips making contact with the crown of Wonwoo’s head as he also groans. He pulls off of your nipple, panting desperately as he holds you down, his cock burried in your throbbing pussy.

You know he’s cumming too, and feel his muscles twitching, his shoulders tight with tension.

And his sounds… nothing in Heaven or on Earth sounds the way Wonwoo does when he’s wrapped in pleasure.

Your entire body sings with delight as the two of you hold onto each other, jolting with the aftershocks of your extreme highs.

The two of you hold each other, breathing in one another.

Wonwoo leans his face against your breasts, and you cradle him.

You’ve never felt this close to anyone.

For a moment you can forget that he’s a demon and you’re an angel.

None of that matters right now.

Finally, Wonwoo pulls away with a sigh. “This changes things.”

“It does,” you agree.

“We’re bound together for as long as Mingyu lives, so… you better not decide you hate me tomorrow.”

You laugh. “You irritate me, but I don’t hate you.”

“I’m not going to stop telling Mingyu to pursue his sexual desires.”

“I never expected you to,” you admit with a sigh.

“And you’re… okay with it now?” 

“As long as it’s consensual, fine, he can be as dirty as he wants to be.” 

Wonwoo laughs, cuddling close to your chest again. “See, in this day and age, some sins like premarital sex are outdated.”

“We could debate that,” you laugh, running your hands through his hair.

“I think I would like that.”

“I feel like it would be a case of unstoppable force meets immovable object.” 

Wonwoo chuckles, and you love how beautiful he is when he smiles. “Sounds like us.”

“But we can’t let our sexual escapades get in the way of doing our job for Mingyu,” you declare.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your work,” Wonwoo groans. “You’d probably bite my cock off if I tried.”

“Consider yourself warned.”

“Consider yourself worshipped.”

“Huh?” you blink down at him.

“You’re still glowing, angel.” Wonwoo plays with a piece of your hair. “It’s been a long time since a demon like me has had anything to look up to.”

“You look up to me?”

“In some ways, but don’t make this more of an embarrassment than it already is.” Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “You’ve reformed me… slightly.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the power of good pussy.”

“Great pussy,” Wonwoo corrects. “And no. If I’m being honest, I think you’ve been changing me for the better for a while, bit by bit.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Wonwoo smiles. “And I’m just happy.”

“I can live with that.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this one was fun, it was a little late to be posted because my puppy has a tooth infection and it's been a hell of a week. reminder! Patreon charges on the FIRST of every month, so if you're going to get my Patreon, just be aware of that, or wait until June 2nd :)

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🔮 preview. Your core tingles as you test the bindings on your wrists. There is truly so much he can teach you about the darker side of sex, the pain that turns into pleasure, the freedom of being completely immobilized and at the mercy of someone you trust to take care of you. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, bdsm themes, wrist bondage, pleasure dom!Wonwoo, oral/pussy eating, wonwoo has powers in this… including a long demon tongue, overstimulation, finger fucking, body/breast worship, squirting, dacryphilia (arousal from tears/crying),  dirty talk, praise, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) angel. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 140

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

To your shock, Wonwoo isn’t pushy with you the way he’s pushy with Mingyu. He hasn’t said a word about the soft sex the two of you have continued to have for months now, and he hasn’t made you feel lesser than him for being vanilla either.

Wonwoo treats you very differently than he treats Mingyu, but you know that every time Wonwoo brings up rough sex in Mingyu’s ear, it’s because Wonwoo himself has an interest in it.

The demon has talked about being a sexual pleaser, and your need to please him has grown too. Can you really hold Wonwoo and yourself back from reaching another level by dabbling with the BDSM themes he’s so fond of?

Can you… condemn him to vanilla sex for as long as the two of you are connected through Mingyu?

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In the office, he was practically invisible. While everyone else buzzed about their day, he quietly roamed the halls, clutching a Stanley Cup and typing away on his MacBook, a blank expression lingering on his face.

To his colleagues, he was just the exceptionally bright guy who seemed to drift through their conversations without leaving a mark—too absorbed in his own thoughts to ever truly engage. It was as if he was a ghost in a sea of chatter, always there but rarely acknowledged.

But he was eye candy to you and Minseo, one of the more attractive males on your floor.

And right now, his handsomeness was tenfold as he carefully ran his fingers down your leg, purring to himself.

“You’re sensitive,” he muttered, making an observation as he pushed up the skirt of your dress.

Tonight was the office get-together, where you and all your colleagues celebrated your survival of the year-end. What was supposed to be a casual dinner turned into a bet amongst you and Minseo.

The topic? Seungcheol, obviously.

“How good can he even be in bed? He looks like he doesn’t even know how to get a girl wet,” Minseo had laughed.

Your breath hitched when you sawSeungcheol’s eyes darken, that familiar twinge of his calculating personality swimming in those brown irises.

He’d pushed your dress up fully and was now face to face with the dark spot on your underwear.

“Is this from the kissing earlier?” He asked, voice raspy.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to scream at him– ‘Yes, Seungcheol! This is what happened when you kissed me against the wall and spread my thighs with your knees and and–’

But you simply nodded, not trusting yourself to make any noises.

“Mm... I like it,” He nodded, his fingers tracing your pussy through the fabric of your panties. A short breath left your mouth and his eyes instantly snapped back up to meet yours.

You knew exactly what he was doing.

You’d seen him do it countless times before, especially when he truly locked in. That distant, intense look in his eyes—like he was plotting, scheming, and unraveling a plan in his mind.

And now? He was going to figure you out.

Seungcheol’s fingers gently prodded at your clitoris, lightly rubbing the bundle of nerves through the fabric. His fingers were exploratory, cautious. His eyes switched between watching you and looking at the dark spot in your panties increase in size slowly.

Even just the clitoral stimulation had your thighs twitching, the gentle flick flick flick of his thumb against you made jolts run up your spine.

“May I?” He asked softly. You looked down to find his beady eyes staring at you, free hand ghosting against the elastic band of your underwear. The sight made you want to kiss him. But it was evident that he was too focused on your pussy to give a shit about that.

You managed another nod, watching him peel the panties off of you, his eyes calculating.

The second that the layer between your most intimate spot and his sharp gaze was gone, Seungcheol let out a groan, his palms on the side of your cunt’s pout, gently spreading the skin to see you.

“God, she’s beautiful,” He muttered, the warmth of his breath making you whine. He noticed it, of course. The bastard always noticed.

His eyebrow raised, the thick hair creating a beautifully slanted line as he stared at you for a brief moment before blowing a stream of cool air into your pussy.

“Jesus fuc–” your breath hitched, back arching slightly as you looked down to find him staring at your cunt like he’d unlocked a hidden gem.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he leaned in, making you choke on thin air. “That feels nice, hmm?”

Before you could even think, his mouth descended on you, placing a sweet, soft kiss onto your mound. The contact made you sigh, fingers shyly finding his hair as you tugged, urging him to go deeper, do something.

But Choi Seungcheol had other plans.

The man placed another kiss along your folds, hissing softly as you tugged the strands on the back of his head. The third kiss came right on your clit before his tongue snaked out, moving from one side to the other, toying with you.

Seungcheol looked up at you, eyebrows scrunched together and that familiar glint in his eyes deepening as he heard your breathing pattern change.

He flattened his tongue, licking a languid stripe up your cunt before puckering his lips and slowly sucking the clitoris into his mouth.

Your slick oozed out of your folds, breathy moans mixing with the mild hum of his air conditioning as he dipped his head lower, his tongue parting your lips and sneaking inside.

“Oh...”

His nose nudged your clit and your grip on his hair tightened, tugging sharper as you whined, dragging your hips upward to catch his nose again.

But his palm roughly flattened against your stomach, pinning you down. The way his thumb brushed against your skin had goosebumps rising.

“Let me– Please,” Seungcheol whispered, like he was some mind-reading maniac who had figured out what you wanted despite you doing nothing but moaning pathetically.

He shifted the position of his head, nose bridge rubbing right against your nerves, his tongue flattened over your pussy as he mouthed at you like an animal lapping water.

You were not going to last.

Seungcheol figured that out too.

“I got you, darling,” he hummed, mouth lapping at you as he bobbed his head up and down, the friction against your most sensitive button and the pressure of his treacherous tongue against your intimates had you crying out his name like a war cry.

You came fast and hard, vision going white for a split second as you breathed loudly, hips grinding to ride out the high on his mouth. He let you use him, before finally coming up for air.

With lazy eyes, you almost giggled at the way he was staring at you. Internally, Seungcheol was making a mental checklist— likes to get her clit played with, sensitive skin on her lower stomach, gets very breathy when nearing an orgasm...

Yeah, you were not going to survive the night.

©️ absinthehyuk, 2026

When you manage to gingerly shuffle up to not splash the water over the edge of the tub onto the tiles, you dry your hands off on the towel waiting for you, then grab your phone. You just about manage to get a glance at the caller ID — John Bun 🐰 — before the calls times out.

Slightly alarmed, you quickly unlock the device with the intention of immediately calling back— because it’s really so rare that he ever rings you—, but then it starts to ring with a new incoming call with the same ID, and you don’t hesitate to press answer.

“Hey, Mama!” Jungkook greets brightly the second the call connects.

“You…sound okay,” you realise, eyebrows furrowing as you lean back into the water after putting the call on speakerphone and leaving the device on the little ledge to your right, where your bath products are lined up ready for use.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he sounds utterly bewildered.

“Jungkook, the last time you called me, you thought aliens had abducted you,” you remind flatly.

“In my defence, I was really drunk and forgot where I was.”

“I still don’t know why you rang me of all people.”

“Gyu told me to. He would’ve done it, but he was too busy crying about not wanting to be probed by anyone but you. Did you ever peg him, by the way?”

“Pretty sure you didn’t call me at 11am on a Monday to ask that,” you muse, adjusting so that you can reach a lump of bubbles floating just out of arms’ length, to hold them in your hands and watch the rainbows dance on their shiny, curved surface.

“You’re right. We’ll circle back,” he decides, and you huff a laugh out. “Have you got a sitter for Tae for Wonwoo’s wedding yet?”

“Wonwoo’s wedding?” you repeat, lifting your head as you think about it. “Oh, no, we decided that I’m not going, just Gyu. We don’t want to leave Tae all those hours when we’re out of the city. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was closer, but it’s too far for us to be comfortable with that.”

“Oh, in that case, do you think you’d be able to watch Jihoon?”

“Jihoon? Why would I watch Jihoon?” you mumble confused.

“Babe, Wonwoo’s my cousin, remember? He and Yoongi may not be related by blood, but they still consider each other cousins.”

“Oh yeah, right. Forgot you’re related for a sec.”

Jungkook snorts an amused laugh before talking. “Mm, so, what do you think? I was going to ask if you think your sitter would watch Jihoon too, but if it’s you, it’s even better because he knows you! Wonwoo’s asking about Yoongi’s RSVP for the sake of seating and catering; he needs it before the end of the week really.”

You hum in understanding, remembering how stressful getting responses for your own wedding invitations was, and you and Mingyu had kept it small. You’re not very close with Wonwoo, but he has enthused a few times about the wedding plans when you’ve crossed paths, clearly very excited to create the big, beautiful wedding of his dreams. Luckily, his wife-to-be is just as enthusiastic, and the pair have extended the invitation to pretty much all of their friends and family to join them in celebrating the union. You know it’s going to be huge, and you don’t envy them for all the work they have to do, but you do sympathise. A lot.

“Well, I’m more than happy to watch Jihoon, yeah; he’s a sweet kid,” you answer.

“He is, he’s great,” Jungkook agrees quickly, cutting you off, but you don’t mind and just giggle instead. He sounds so genuinely fond of his nephew that you’ll never be anything but endeared by the man butting in to praise the little boy.

“But obviously, it all depends on if he would be okay with staying the night here with me and Tae. I know they’re booking a whole bunch of hotels for their guests, so Yoongi will stay there, and even if not, it’ll be too late by the time he gets back for Jihoon to still realistically be awake and endure the drive home. Plus, it’d be nice for Yoongi have some time off the dad clock.”

“It would. I don’t think he’s had any time for himself since the bitch left, other than when Ji’s in bed.” You can’t help but linger on the fact Jungkook refers to who you can only assume is Jihoon’s mother as “the bitch”— which coming from a man who doesn’t like to call people such names, says a lot—, plus, the venom in which he hisses the insult. You’re beyond curious about Jihoon’s mother, Yoongi’s ex-wife, but it’s not your place to ask. Yoongi obviously doesn’t want to even be your friend, so there’s no way he’d be happy to know his brother told you about the woman he was supposed to have a family with.

“Mm, so, as I said, I’m fine with it as long as Jihoon is. And obviously, Yoongi and I would need to discuss it properly to figure out logistics and such.”

“Mm, yeah, yeah, I’ll call him after school today to let him know you’re available….and convince him to actually agree to go to the wedding that is.”

For a second, you’re quiet as you let his words settle. “Jungkook.”

“Yes, beautiful?” he coos, extra sweet, knowing that you’re using your stern tone— something you’ve used on him many times over the years when he’s done something you don’t approve of, or he’s just being plain stupid.

“Why does that sound like Yoongi doesn’t even know you’re asking me any of this.”

“I have no idea, you gorgeous, stunning, jaw-dropping–” he cuts off with a giggle when you sigh heavily. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t mentioned anything to him yet. I’m at Wonwoo’s right now and he asked me; said Yoongi’s been saying he can’t because of Ji, and everyone who he trusts to look after him will be there.”

“Jin’s going?” you ask, trying to recall if Wonwoo was at Seokjin’s wedding, if the pair even know each other that well, but there were so many people at the wedding that you didn’t get a chance to even take in half of them; and with Wonwoo being a photographer known for his specific brand of angsty shots, he’s likely worked with Seokjin for more artsy fashion shoots. You just haven’t ever seen the pair interact before, and Wonwoo can be particular with the brands and models he works with, so you know there are a lot of people who have never worked with him despite how well-known he is.

“They’re on their second honeymoon then,” Jungkook says and you hum, recalling Seokjin vaguely mentioning booking a trip in February the last time you spoke to him a couple weeks back.

“Won’t that be their third?” you wonder, thinking about the recent bundle of photos Seokjin uploaded to his private social media— just for close friends and family— of him and Celeste off in a forest somewhere on a honeymoon, even though they had been on one immediately after their wedding.

“Oooh, right. To be honest, I think he’s just really going to milk this whole married thing and call any holiday they go on a honeymoon.”

You can help but laugh softly in agreement. “He will, but it’s sweet, how in love they are.”

“Mm, suppose. Anyway, Yoon says he’s got no-one and doesn’t know any sitters who can handle autistic kids, so I thought ‘hey, I know a foxy mama who—'”

“Don’t ever call me a foxy mama again,” you interrupt in a tone so unimpressed that Jungkook cracks up, cackling away down the phone, making you glad it’s not pressed to your ear right now. You’ve been attacked by that very laugh through the phone before, and it’s not something you want to ever experience again. 

It takes Jungkook a minute to calm, during which time you just enjoy the warm water relaxing your muscles, dancing your fingers through the water, and idly humming softly to yourself as you wait.

“Hey, is that water I hear?” he asks when you abruptly lift your arm to combat the very sudden itch of your nose that you just can’t ignore.

You hum in confirmation. “I’m in the bath.” Jungkook gasps sharply, then hangs up, making you look at your phone utterly bewildered and a little concerned that something has happened to him. At least until seconds later, when a request for a video call comes through and you snort amusedly. After drying your hand, you reach over to accept, though leave your phone where it is, angled up to the ceiling. “Pervert.”

“Let me seeee,” he whines, not even trying to argue your accusation.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll come over and join you!” You know he’s serious by the fact you can hear him moving.

“Fucking hell,” you huff and pick up your phone to angle it so that your shoulders and above are in view. “Happy?”

“Did you get prettier, huh?” he coos, grinning dumbly at the camera and failing to wink at you, making you laugh. At least he’s now stopped trying to rush over to your house and he’s sitting back down— you can only hope he’s found a room in Wonwoo’s house out of everyone’s ear shot to have this call. “Where’s Gyu? I actually did call him first because I know he’s not at work and you two talk about literally everything, especially about Tae, so I knew he’ll know about the sitter thing too, even if you’re the one who usually arranges it–”

“You’re rambling, bunny boy.”

“Right. I just suddenly have a lot of energy I need to get out.” He fails to wink again, and you just laugh. “I can’t believe my seduction attempts have one again been thwarted by my inability to wink.”

“You can wink,” you point out, having seen him do so before. “It just…comes and goes.”

“And I would like to go to your place and come–” He cuts himself off with a snigger when he sees you exaggeratedly rolling your eyes. “Okay, but seriously, what’s Gyu doing? Can I come over?”

“He’s grocery shopping.”

“Oh, he’s in the zone,” he realises. “No wonder he didn’t answer my calls. It’s so fucking weird how obsessive he gets grocery shopping.”

“It’s cute…as long as we’re not in a rush. He’s just particular about ingredients and wants to find a good bargain!” you defend your best friend, even if Mingyu’s particulars when grocery shopping have frustrated you on more than one occasion.

These days, you only go grocery shopping together if there isn’t a single plan for at least the following three hours, and if Taehyung isn’t with the pair of you. The poor boy gets so bored and more frustrated than you do when the two of you have to watch Mingyu stare between the same two punnets of grapes for ten straight minutes before he decides which one to buy. Which is extra frustrating when you know the man will eat pretty much anything put in front of him, so he has no reason to be so fussy when he buys groceries. He doesn’t even care if you bring home the most battered items in the store, he just cares what he buys. You’ll never understand, and you’re not even sure Mingyu does himself, but you leave him to it, and he’s usually happy shopping alone anyway.

“Mm, sure, sure,” Jungkook replies, not at all agreeing, just placating you, and you roll your eyes again. “You know, I could give you an even better reason to roll your eyes,” he says, extra sleazy, and finally manages to wink through the camera at you this time. “I did it! That’s worth at least a boob shot.”

“I can’t tell if you mean you mean that as a sex act, or for me to angle the camera down,” you admit amusedly.

“Uhh, honestly, if you show me your tits right now, I will be running to my car and heading straight over. So consider that carefully. If I see the tiddies, I’m gonna come over and put them in my mouth,” he warns, making you laugh. “I’m serious.” He looks it too, completely straight faced and eyes a little dark where they’re focused on the bottom of his screen, as if he can use the power of sheer want to get your bare chest in camera range.

“I know. You’re so cute, Kookie,” you coo. Seconds before the bathroom door opens, you hear familiar footsteps, so you just look over unworried as Mingyu enters your bathroom without even knocking the door. “Done shopping already?” you question bewildered, he only left half an hour ago.

“I got all the way there and realised I forgot the bags,” Mingyu admits, crossing the room to squat down beside the tub with his arms crossed on the edge. “And I knew you’d kill me if I bought more when we have so many.”

“I would,” you confirm simply, thinking of the frankly far too expansive collection of reusable shopping bags— even the fancy insulated ones— that the pair of you have collected over the years living together, yet still often forget to take shopping with you. You tend to keep a stash in the boot of your car ready, but Mingyu always forgets to restock the ones you try to get him to keep in his own car. More often than not, he does drive yours though— simply because it’s bigger and more comfortable—, but sometimes he does actually drive his own car when it’s just him, though you never know until you find your car missing from the driveway when you peer out of the window. At least you have full access to his car too, and there’s a spare car seat for Taehyung in the garage if you ever need it when you have Taehyung with you.

“Who’re you talking to?” he wonders, suddenly realising that the view on your phone screen isn’t a video, but a video call, making him frown confusedly about the fact you’re video calling someone while naked. Though when you turn the phone and his best friend waves at him, Mingyu huffs a laugh. “Hi, Koo. This is why my call didn’t go through then; you’re trying to fuck my baby mama again.”

“Trying being the keyword,” Jungkook answers shamelessly with a nod to match, making Mingyu snicker. “She won’t even let me see the tiddies.”

“You literally just said you’d come straight over and put them in your mouth if I did!” you defend. “I am trying to have a relaxing bath here.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to come shopping with me?” Mingyu asks, pouting at you in an adorably sad kind of kicked puppy-dog way. “I was bored on my own.”

“Seriously?” you mutter while giving him an unimpressed look, though he knows he’s got you, he’s already grinning victoriously and bouncing up to reach over and pull the plug from the bath to begin draining the water.

“This is exactly why people think you’re still together,” Jungkook sniggers, watching you give in to your ex-husband so easily after him doing nothing more than pouting for your company. Admittedly, it’s not the first time you’ve given in so easily to Mingyu wanting your attention— actually, it’s pretty damn regular—, and you’re very certain it’ll likely continue for as long as you remain such good friends.

“We’re soulmates, that’s why,” Mingyu announces, taking your phone and talking to Jungkook himself as you get out of the tub and dry yourself off with a towel diligently. Suddenly, when you’re bending over to dry your feet, you realise that Mingyu is weirdly silent, and so you look over at him curiously, only to find his gaze glued to you. You raise a pointed eyebrow at him, making him sigh defeatedly. “Why did we agree no sex when we divorced? I still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and seeing you literally naked and bent over in front of me is cruel, baby.”

“Naked and bent over?” Jungkook repeats, sounding a little pained. “Quick, switch camera view, Gyu!”

“No. My eyes only,” Mingyu argues extra childishly, still watching you as you finish drying off, then hang the towel on the heated rail for it to dry off. You walk over to Mingyu and carefully tuck up at his side, so although Jungkook can see you again now, your nude body is out of his view. Mingyu is still staring down at you with a darkness growing in his gaze that, admittedly, still makes your body begin to grow warm, remembering how well he always worshipped your body when you were together.

Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to remember that you both were very adamant on being nothing but friends once you divorced; cutting off sexual intimacy between you for the sake of not blurring any lines.

It’s even harder to remember when Mingyu looks at you like this, like he wants to drop to his knees right now and bury his face between your thighs until he can’t breathe; and then keep going until you have to force his head out and hold him back by a fistful of hair until he’s returned oxygen to his lungs. That particular circumstance was a very regular occurrence ever since the first time the two of you had sex all those years back. You honestly think Mingyu prefers giving oral than actually fucking with how he would beg for it sometimes, then not even try to do anything else when his chest was heavy, face messy, and eyes so dark and crazed you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even mentally present in the real world anymore.

Thinking of that, of how good Mingyu always was, how desperate to please you, it does make you almost forget why you can’t push him down onto the nearest surface— floor included— and climb onto his face. It’s even harder when you’re pretty sure he’d let you and be so enthusiastically grateful about it too. But you can’t risk things getting confused between the two of you, not when it could ruin everything and you have a son to consider.

“Don’t forget to call Yoongi about Jihoon staying here,” you say to Jungkook, who nods, letting out a soft, slightly disappointed breath knowing this is you ending the conversation and he won’t be getting a view of your naked body or the chance to drive over and see it up close.

“What?” Mingyu murmurs confused, frowning at you slightly in bewilderment, yet turns to say goodbye to Jungkook when you do, then hangs up and locks your phone while toddling after you into your room, no longer staring at your body but the back of your head in curiosity. “What’s that about Jihoon staying here?”

“So Yoongi can go to Wonwoo’s wedding. Koo asked if we have a sitter for Tae for it because he was going to see if they would also be able to look after Jihoon, as we would’ve already found someone suitable to watch a child with autism, and Yoongi doesn’t know any sitters, especially ones like that.”

“Ah, you told him you’re not going,” he understands, and reaches past you to shuffle through the clothes hanging in front of you now that you’re in your walk-in wardrobe. You leave him to pick out your outfit while you pull on your underwear and apply your skin care.

When you’re done and head over to your bed where Mingyu is comfortably reclined in wait, you’re not at all surprised to find that the outfit laid out at his side ready for you matches the one he’s wearing. Taehyung gets his love of matching from his dad, after all.

It’s not until Wednesday that you hear anything back about potentially looking after Jihoon in February so that Yoongi can attend his cousin’s wedding.

When Mingyu returns home from picking Taehyung up from school— the little boy happily bouncing along at his side and already animatedly telling you everything he did at school today—, Mingyu holds out a little folded piece of paper to you with a sly, suggestive grin. You give him a questioning look, but he just winks at you then walks off, so you turn back to your son and leave the paper alone until he’s done talking.

As soon as Taehyung darts off to take his water bottle to the kitchen ready to be cleaned and refilled for tomorrow, you focus on the paper in your hand. Unfolding it, you’re met with neat handwriting of a note with your name at the top, and to your surprise, Yoongi’s name and phone number at the bottom.

The note doesn’t say much, just that Jungkook talked to him, and although Yoongi isn’t certain Jihoon will be okay with it, he at least appreciates the offer and would like to meet to discuss it; he’d really like to attend Wonwoo’s wedding and play the piano for his cousin’s first dance, like Wonwoo has asked him to do since they were kids. You can’t help but think how sweet it is, both of Wonwoo to want his cousin to play the piano at his wedding for his first dance with his new wife, but for Yoongi to want to do it so much that he’s willing to leave Jihoon with someone he doesn’t consider family.

Although you know Yoongi will still be at the school now and won’t finish work for a little bit as he finishes up whatever he needs to after class, you grab your phone, save his number, and send him a text to suggest he and Jihoon come over this Saturday after lunch to discuss it and gauge Jihoon’s comfort at your house.

Then, you put down your phone and forget about it for the following few hours as you focus on your family, until you find a response from Yoongi agreeing, and something in your chest flutters at the thought of seeing him in your family home this weekend.

By the time the doorbell rings on Saturday afternoon, Taehyung is all but vibrating out of his skin. Ever since you told him last night that Yoongi and Jihoon will be visiting for a few hours today, Taehyung has not stopped talking about everything he wants to show them, everything he wants to do with Jihoon.

You and Mingyu have both had to remind your son a few times that Jihoon likes much calmer things, not running around and lots of stimulation like Taehyung does. He always nods at the reminder and calms down, thinks of calmer things until he inevitably forgets in his excitement.

As you head to the front door, you can hear Mingyu gently reminding Taehyung one final time to be gentle with Jihoon and not overwhelm him with toys, games, and options.

“Hi, welcome!” you greet once you open the door to the father-son duo standing on your little porch. You’re not surprised to find them in matching coats, beanies, and boots, though it does make you smile a little brighter, utterly endeared. “Come on in,” you offer, stepping aside and motioning into the house.

Yoongi softly nudges Jihoon encouragingly on the back, so the boy tentatively enters first with his dad right behind him, the man giving you a little smile in grateful greeting before you shut the door and motion to where they can put their shoes, and the slippers that Taehyung had diligently set up— and straightened a dozen times— as soon as he rushed excitedly downstairs this morning barely awake.

“Thank you for inviting us over,” Yoongi says when you’re hanging up their coats in the coat closet, door open on your right and the pair in view as Jihoon carefully peers around what he can see of the house from the entrance hall.

“Of course, Taehyung has been really excited to hang out with you more, Jihoon,” you inform, careful not to give away the real reason they’re here, just in case after discussing it with Yoongi thoroughly, the pair of you decide that Jihoon staying with you for the night won’t work out. You don’t want to risk upsetting the boys by prematurely telling them about a sleepover that can’t even happen. Not that you’re even sure if Jihoon would be excited to have a sleepover with Taehyung, but you’d rather not risk it.

“Oh,” Jihoon mutters softly, looking down at the slippers on his feet. You can see him wiggling his toes, pressing them up against the material, and you hope he finds them comfortable. They’re technically Taehyung’s, extra soft and very expensive— more than you’d ever pay for slippers if it wasn’t for his sensory struggles—, but your son is adamantly against wearing shoes when he doesn’t have to; something he actually gets from you. You never wear slippers at home, only Mingyu does, and he still gives the pair of you judging looks when you both remove your socks too and pad around barefoot.

Figuring Jihoon isn’t feeling particularly verbal right now, you lead the pair into the living room, where Mingyu is physically holding Taehyung down to stop the boy running off to greet the Min family with probably too much excitement to not overwhelm poor Jihoon the second he walks into the house.

“Hey,” Mingyu grins at the pair. “Welcome to our home!”

“I call can you Yoongi ‘gain?” Taehyung immediately asks his teacher, who chuckles and nods in consent. “Yoongi!” he cheers, wriggling out of his dad’s arms to dart over and hug Yoongi, who doesn’t fail to return the affection, just like always. “Ji, Ji, wanna watch anime?” Taehyung asks, bouncing over to Jihoon as soon as the hug breaks, though he respectfully doesn’t get to close, and is careful to not raise his voice or bounce too much as the older boy glances at him. “We can watch in my playroom! I have many lots pillows, and beanbaggies, and blankets, and soft, soft, soft teddies!”

“Baby, how about we let Jihoon and Yoongi get comfortable and used to the house first?” Mingyu suggests, noticing that Jihoon is shrinking in on himself a little.

“Oh, okay!” Taehyung bounces off to clamber back onto his dad’s lap. “Want watch nice music?” he suggests, already picking up the TV remote from the couch beside Mingyu to switch to YouTube and find the very same video you played for Jihoon in the hotel that day. Jihoon must recognise the music because as soon as it starts to play, he lifts his head enough to peer up at the large screen, then gingerly moves over to sit on the other end of the sofa to the pair and watch.

“I should really find this video and save it,” Yoongi muses quietly on your right, suddenly a lot closer having walked further in once his son had bravely moved first.

“I’ll send you the link to the playlist,” you offer, looking at him, and he looks away from the TV to give you a little, grateful grin. “Go sit, I’ll grab drinks, what do you two like? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, water, juice…” you trail off, trying to remember exactly what beverages you have, knowing that all three members of your family have the bad habit of finding new drinks interesting in the store, yet by the time you get home, you no longer want to try them, so they get added to the collection for a later date. At least there are always a lot of drink options for guests to choose from.

“Is it alright if I come look what you’ve got? Hoon can be particular about like juice brands and stuff,” Yoongi responds, looking a little awkward about asking.

“Yoongi,” you start in an amused little tone as you rest a hand on his upper arm. “If anyone understands, it’s me, you don’t need to be embarrassed about asking.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He smiles at you, slightly sheepish, yet also grateful, before he follows you through to the kitchen. “Oh wow,” he mutters when you open the side of the double fridge reserved mostly for drinks, with some healthy snacks set on the bottom shelf for Taehyung to reach whenever he wants them. “That’s a lot of options.”

“Yeah, we’re a family of compulsive drink buyers it seems,” you muse with a little giggle as you step aside to give Yoongi the space to explore the options at his own pace.

“Buyers and not drinkers, it seems,” he jokes and you giggle again. Yoongi shoots you a quick look, lips curled up in a smile, before he turns his full attention to the bottles, cans, and cartons neatly arranged on the shelves.

“How about daddy, then?” you ask once you’ve topped up the water in the coffee machine ready for use. You hear items hitting one another and turn to find Yoongi fumbling to straighten the drinks he had knocked over. “You okay?”

“Y–yeah–yep!” he replies while quickly glancing at you, giving you a short view of the soft pink suddenly painting the high points of his cheeks.

“Alright,” your tone is a little suspicious because the man is too flustered to not be lying, but you decide to let him have his secrets. “So, what would you like to drink?”

“Oh uhm, a coffee would be great, thanks.”

“On it!”

Once Yoongi has grabbed a drink for Jihoon— and commented that it’s Jihoon’s favourite, so you make a mental note to buy more— he takes it through to the living room while you finish making the hot drinks, including a hot chocolate for Taehyung because the boy always wants one when you and Mingyu both have hot drinks. You’re pretty sure he likes it because it makes him feel involved, and maybe even like a mini adult, as the three of you sit with your matching mugs together.

As soon as you place the tray of steaming mugs onto the coffee table, Taehyung gasps excitedly and scoots over to sit on the floor up to the low table, pulling his favourite coaster— shaped like a daisy— forward for you to place his adorable little mug on with a little spoon beside it.

“Thank you!” he chirps, big eyes glued to the marshmallows bobbing in his mug and already picking up the spoon to scoop up one of the sweet treats.

“Here, you can help yourself, Jihoon,” you offer the boy as you place a few packets of sweet snacks down after removing them from the tray. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to grab a packet of mini cookies, and thankfully, it encourages Jihoon to join the younger boy at the coffee table and pick a snack for himself.

“Babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu calls, extending one arm towards the table and making a grabby hand.

“Manners, daddy,” Taehyung reminds.

“Please, babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu corrects himself, making you grin to yourself amusedly while tossing over the tub of mini marshmallows.

“Yoongi, fancy something?” you check, motioning to the options.

“No, thanks,” he replies from where he’s settled comfortably on the sofa in one corner; Mingyu is in the other, so you plop down in the space in the middle. The sofa is large enough that there’s still room on either side of you for another adult, and you take advantage of that room to bring your legs up to cross under you comfortably.

Surprisingly, it feels like this is something the five of you often do; it feels natural to sit there with your drinks and snacks, the only sound the videos playing on the TV.

When you glance at Yoongi on your right, he looks pretty comfortable, eyes mostly on the TV as he sips at his coffee— making a pleased little expression every time the flavour coats his tongue, causing you to preen secretly, proud to have made him something he likes so much— but intermittently glancing down at his son to check in on the boy.

As far as you can tell, Jihoon looks content too as he ever so gradually makes his way through the snack he picked, and sips at his drink. It makes your lips curl up a little when you spot Jihoon making the same pleased face with his drink as his dad does his own. It’s endlessly endearing how much the boy takes after his father; how much he obviously looks up to the man to copy him, even subconsciously, as much as he does.

Although Taehyung usually jumps up after he finishes his hot chocolate— either to cuddle up to you, Mingyu, or a plushie; or to find something to do to get his fresh energy out—, he sits there today, eyes flickering to Jihoon on his right routinely. You can see that Taehyung has some energy to get out; he keeps fidgeting and adjusting his seated position frequently enough that Jihoon glances at him with a little furrow of his eyebrows.

“Tae, why don’t we go get your energy out, huh?” Mingyu suggests, already getting up. “Then after, maybe Jihoon will like to join us in the playroom, and we can watch that show you said you think he’ll like?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung enthuses, turning wide eyes on Jihoon. “We watch anime after I do my zoomies?” he requests. “It has many lots good songs! They are very pretty songs.”

“Oh, okay,” Jihoon agrees after taking a couple of seconds to consider it.

“Yay!” Taehyung cheers, getting to his feet to immediately run at his dad. Mingyu turns and darts off with a cheeky grin, and Taehyung laughs before happily following, determined to catch his dad. “I will get you!”

“Never!” Mingyu calls back, then the pair are out of the room, and you can hear them running through the kitchen, so you know Mingyu is taking Taehyung out to the back garden where they can screech and yell as they play as much as they like without disturbing the calm of the house. You’re not at all surprised when you hear Mingyu collide with the new stools at the breakfast bar, toppling them over while Taehyung cackles at his dad.

“I told him he’ll run into bigger stools,” you muse, glancing at Yoongi. “The old stools were smaller and tucked under the breakfast bar easily; these ones stick out a bit, but Gyu’s a giant, so we need giant stools, apparently.”

“The cons of being tall,” Yoongi replies with a little grin that makes you giggle.

After a few more minutes, Jihoon is done eating and glances at the sofa, so you shuffle over into the now empty corner, giving him space to join if he wants to. It makes you feel like you’ve done something right when he doesn’t hesitate to get up and clamber into your previous seat, leaving an equal distance on either side of him. You thought he’d sit nearer his dad— his source of comfort and safe space—, but he seems happy where he is. You smile to yourself as you turn your head away from him to focus back on the TV and let the calm envelop you.

By the time Taehyung and Mingyu return, pink cheeked and bringing a chill from the autumn air, you’ve managed to have a conversation with Jihoon. A very successful conversation about his favourite snacks and drinks if you do say so yourself. Yoongi barely even participated either, just at the start to help prompt Jihoon along to respond to your attempt at conversation, but then the boy seemed to relax and answered you easily enough. Admittedly, he’s still pretty withdrawn, but you still feel like it’s a big step and good sign; and judging by the tender-proud look on Yoongi’s face, he feels the same way.

“I got my zoomies out!” Taehyung announces once he toddles into the living room. He grabs his water bottle from the coffee table and sucks down a fair amount before looking expectantly at Jihoon, chest heaving as he catches his breath from drinking so much at once.

“I think Tae is trying to ask if you want to go watch anime now,” you state to Jihoon amusedly. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, then beams when Jihoon slides off the sofa.

“I’ll be right here,” Yoongi assures gently when Jihoon looks at him for support. For a second, it looks like Jihoon might return to his dad’s side, but he gathers his nerve and nods in understanding before turning to follow Taehyung out of the living room and upstairs to the playroom. You assume Mingyu is already there, based on the thud of something being dropped upstairs; you’re not even surprised by that at this point and don’t react to the soft thud.

“Let me clean up all this, then we can talk about February while they’re occupied,” you suggest, already getting up to gather all the mugs and empty wrappers onto the tray to take to the kitchen.

“I can help,” Yoongi offers, shuffling to the edge of his seat but you make a noise and wave him off.

“You’re our guest, you just sit. Plus, it’s easy enough for me to handle alone,” you assure, and prove your point by lifting the tray. “You can put something else on if you want,” you offer, motioning vaguely to the TV with a tilt of your head before leaving the living room.

Only a couple of minutes later, you’re back with fresh drinks for you both, and Yoongi is curiously flicking through the videos on the playlist still playing.

“This is a good playlist,” he comments once you’re sitting comfortably back in your corner, though now curled up with your shoulder against the back rest so you’re facing him instead of the TV. “I recognise some of the songs in the titles, but a lot I’ve never heard of. They’re all calming?”

“Yeah. They have a bunch more on their channel, but these ones work for Tae the best,” you answer, propping your head on your fist as you rest your elbow on the back of the sofa. “They also have some really upbeat ones too, and Tae listens to them when he wants to bounce around, but it’s mostly the calm playlist. I’ll share this playlist with you, but obviously you can make your own version, though Jihoon seems to like this one.”

“He really does. I tried to find the videos after that day in the hotel, but I didn’t really know what to search or anything, so I was just aimlessly scrolling for, like, an hour,” he admits with a chuckle before placing the remote back on the table to instead pick up his mug of steaming coffee to cup in his hands. He adjusts his position so that he’s angled more towards you and tucks his left foot under his right thigh to make it and easier position to be in. Weirdly, it makes you smile to yourself; he looks so comfortable and almost at home in your house despite it being the first time he’s visited. Something about it feels right to you, and your chest flutters with soft warmth.

You take a moment to silently appreciate the ease between you— and the man before you—, and only once he’s settled in his seat do you decide to start talking. “He seems okay so far, I think it’s a good sign, right?”

“Mm, definitely,” Yoongi confirms with a nod. “I think that by the time February comes around, and after spending more time together, he’ll be okay to stay for a night.”

“We can definitely do a trial or two beforehand; so that he can try it out while you’re still in town if he can’t handle it and needs to go home.”

“I’d really appreciate that. I mean, I appreciate all this anyway; you being so open and willing to try this out and look after him for me. I don’t exactly have anyone who I can rely on this much, only Kook and Jin, and they’re always busy, so it really means a lot to me that you’re giving us this chance.”

“You deserve to have someone to rely on like this, Yoongi. And the opportunity for a break and time to yourself while knowing your son is safe and in capable hands, somewhere he’s understood. Well, as best as we can understand him, of course. I’m not assuming I’ll know everything and be able to handle every eventuality by then, but that’s not even something we can say after a lifetime with a child. We’re still learning more about Tae all the time and I literally birthed him,” you joke.

Yoongi chuckles, nodding understandingly. “Yeah, I get it. Even kids without these extra needs will constantly be changing, learning, and growing, so it’s impossible to ever know everything about how to handle anything they or life may throw at us.”

“Exactly! The best we can do is prepare with what we know and do our best.” He hums in agreement. “With that in mind, what do I need to know about the cutie?”

“Well…” He lets out a breath then pulls his phone out. “I actually did write up a document with everything I could think of, just so I didn’t forget anything, though I still probably have. Is it okay if I send it to you? I didn’t want to just shove that on you without permission.”

“Of course, send away!” you assure, already grabbing your phone ready to read the document as soon as you receive it. “The more I know, the better. And with it written down, I can refer back to it when I need to.”

“Great, thanks. Some people can be funny about like, written instructions like this,” he says, more of a mumble as he focuses on sending the correct document to you on his phone.

“Mm, like you’re implying they’re incompetent and can’t do it without step-by-step guidance.”

“Yes!” Yoongi lifts his head to look at you with slightly widened eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. Why do some people insist on making everything about them?” he huffs, almost pouting; it takes everything in you to not react to how cute he looks.

“One of life’s great mysteries,” you respond in a dramatically solemn tone that makes Yoongi’s almost sulky expression break as he laughs. “Does Jihoon know about the wedding?” you wonder as you open the document on your phone now that it’s come through successfully.

“He knows Wonwoo is getting married, but not that I might go. I don’t want to say anything to him until I know for certain.”

“Understandable. Tae obviously knows that Gyu is going but not about this.” You motion vaguely between the two of you before crawling across the cushions closer to him— unaware of the slightly alarmed expression that crosses his face at your unexpected move—, so that you can sit close enough to show him your screen. “Can you clarify on this?” you request and look at the man in time to see his posture relax, confusing you a little, but you aren’t given the chance to ponder on it as Yoongi peers at your screen then begins to explain in better detail what information on the document means.

By the time Yoongi and Jihoon leave that evening, you know Jihoon far better than you ever expected to— at least on paper—, and you feel far more confident that you can properly watch over the boy for a day while his dad is out of town.

Jihoon seems to relax a lot more too. You even hear him laughing cutely when Taehyung needs another round of garden zoomies with his dad, and Jihoon accompanies them outside— though doesn’t run around with them, but he does at least perch on the swing and watch the pair with a big smile.

Still, as much as the day seems to have been a great help, you and Yoongi both know that Jihoon is nowhere near ready for a sleepover without his dad— or even to spend a few hours at your house without the man—, so you make plans to meet every Saturday for the foreseeable future. You both hope that spending more time together will help ease Jihoon into feeling comfortable and safe with you and Taehyung, while also making sure that you can handle potential issues that may crop up while Yoongi is right there to teach you what his son needs to regulate and relax.

Even though you’ve agreed to not tell the boys about the potential sleepover— in worry of Taehyung getting upset if it doesn’t happen, and Jihoon feeling uneasy and therefore, unable to give you the chance to prove yourself to him—, you, of course, can’t hide the new plans from them, and let them know that the four of you are going to be spending time together regularly from now on. To no-one’s surprise, Taehyung is beyond excited about it, whereas Jihoon seems a little uncertain, but his smile doesn’t completely fade away with the news, and that really feels like a good sign.

As agreed, the next Saturday, you and Taehyung meet Yoongi at Jihoon’s favourite playpark.

When you arrive, you understand why Jihoon prefers this one out of all of the parks in the city. It’s nestled away almost secretly amongst a patch of trees in the middle of a neighbourhood that you’ve never even driven through before. There doesn’t seem to really be anything but residential buildings in the neighbourhood as far as you can see, not even a little family run restaurant or convenience store, so you can easily imagine that it’s always as quiet as it is now. Honestly, if you didn’t love your house so much, you would even consider having a curious look for house listings in this neighbourhood, it really is so calm.

“Hey, glad you found it,” Yoongi greets you when you get close enough to where he’s sitting on a bench just outside of the gated play park, with his arms already full of Taehyung— who hadn’t hesitated to run off ahead of you the second he saw his favourite teacher.

“It really is a hidden treasure, huh,” you muse, taking a seat on the bench and picking up your son’s backpack from where he’s carelessly dropped it onto the damp grass, now running off into the park. As you sit, you can easily spot Jihoon perched on the climbing frame, contently watching the world go by. You’re a little worried that Taehyung is going to ruin the older boy’s calm, yet Jihoon notices Taehyung approaching— hard to miss with the calls of “Ji! Ji!”—, and smiles a little before moving aside, silently inviting Taehyung up to join him.

“Mm, a previous student’s grandmother actually told me about it a couple years back,” Yoongi informs as you both watch your sons greet one another once Taehyung has clambered up the holds to the platform Jihoon is on. “She brought all her grandkids here, and said the locals look after the park well.”

“Oh, that’s really nice that they do that.” He hums in agreement. “I’m surprised we’re the only ones here if the locals love it so much.”

“Sometimes others come along, but I think there aren’t many kids who live locally. I think this neighbourhood has become a kind of retirement village,” he says with a chuckle. “There are a couple retirement homes; the block opposite the entrance is one, actually. I’m always getting comments from old folk about how cute Hoonie is, so, heads up, if any come along, they will coo over Tae.”

“It’s exactly what he deserves, he’s adorable and deserves all the cheek pinches,” you declare with a tinge of theatrics that make Yoongi laugh.

“Okay, I can’t even deny that; he really is such a sweet kid.”

“So’s Jihoon.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a little breath that sounds like it’s full of nothing but love for his son. “We did pretty good, huh?”

“We did indeed.”

The two of you sit and watch your sons play together for a while in content silence, just enjoying that the weather is still just nice enough to do this without worry of any of you getting cold.

“It’s Jihoon’s birthday soon; it’s on a Friday, but I thought seeing as we’re meeting on Saturdays anyway, would you two like to come over for lunch and cake? Jin and Cel will be there.”

“Oh, yeah, we’d love to,” you agree without hesitation, smiling at him. “Anything on the no way in hell list where gifts are concerned?”

“Mm, not that I can think of. You have that document with his triggers and such on, so I trust you won’t get anything that will set him off. And thankfully, he doesn’t like anything that annoys me really, so that’s not a concern,” he chuckles.

“Lucky, Taehyung loves glitter,” you comment, giving him a pained look that makes him laugh.

“I’ll buy him a whole set for his birthday,” he jokes, and laughs a little louder when you gently hit his arm in silent complaint. “I’m kidding, I’d never buy glitter as a gift, that’s just a giant fuck you to a parent.”

“And slime.”

“Yes!” he agrees. “And playdough. My parents bought Hoon so much playdough when he was little, and he was obsessed with it. I found it all over the place for days after he played with it.”

“So that’s a no to a giant playdough set?” you tease.

“Ugh, don’t give me flashbacks,” he retorts, making you snicker a laugh. “You know, I’m not even sure how he’d feel about it anymore.”

“Tae is either really into it, or doesn’t care at all, and it usually changes part way, so even he’s learned to just avoid it because he doesn’t want to tidy it up once he loses interest and the texture starts to get to him.”

“Least he learned.” You hum in agreement. “I actually meant to say that he doesn’t really want a party or anything, for his birthday.”

“Oh?” you turn your head to look at Yoongi curiously, though he’s watching the boys compete who can swing highest on the baby swings, despite the fact the swings more suited for their age group are perfectly available. You just hope that they don’t get stuck in them where their butts have dipped into the centres, legs flopping over the edge unable to fit.

“He’s been really into Japan since Tae gave him that snow globe and got him into anime, so I suggested we go in the winter break for a late birthday slash Christmas gift. Hoon’s really into the thought, even if he’s anxious about it too, but he actually mentioned Taehyung going too, as he’s the one that introduced him to anime. So, I was wondering if you guys would be interested in that? Going to Japan with us at the end of December?” he asks, now turning his head to look at your surprised expression. “Not like a full holiday together or anything, we can do our own things and just have a day to celebrate Hoon’s birthday, or an afternoon or something, depending.”

“Tae really wants to see the snowy mountains for his birthday,” you inform, earning a questioning look. “His birthday is at the end of December, so we were already planning to go to Japan,” you explain, lips turning up into an amused grin.

“Oh.” Yoongi’s expression quickly mirrors yours. “How convenient.”

“Mm, especially as Tae said he wants Jihoon there.”

“Oh, really?” The man’s expression softens, looking so touched by your son’s wish to include his son in the boy’s birthday plans. “I’m not sure how Hoon will handle the snow, but celebrating their birthdays together sounds great.”

“We could travel there and back together, rent places near each other so that Gyu and I can support you with Jihoon, if you want?”

“That would actually be really good; I’m not great at travelling honestly, so knowing I have another pair of adults there to help will lessen a lot of my anxiety.”

“Then it’s a plan!” you declare, offering a hand for him to shake.

“Will Mingyu be okay with it?” he checks, looking amused, and hand hovering as if he’s waiting for the final confirmation before sealing the deal.

“I don’t see why not. But I can call him now to make sure,” you reason, already reaching into your coat pocket to grab your phone and dial Mingyu’s number.

“Hi, baby!” Mingyu chirps brightly as soon as the call connects, and as it’s on speakerphone, Yoongi hears and is visibly amused by it.

“You’re on speaker, Yoongi’s sitting with me,” you warn before your ex-husband can say something weirdly suggestive about your time with Yoongi— like he already did this morning, and last night, and multiple times since last weekend.

“Hi, Yoongi!” Mingyu greets.

“Hi, Yoongi!” Jungkook’s familiar voice yells, then all you hear is the pair squabbling; Mingyu complaining about Jungkook yelling in his ear, and Jungkook declaring that it’s Mingyu’s fault for not already having the call on speakerphone.

“Still so weird that your ex-husband is my baby brother’s best friend,” Yoongi mutters to you as the two continue to argue childishly. You only hum in agreement.

Honestly, you’re a little distracted by how Yoongi doesn’t seem to be reacting negatively in any way in regard to your connection to his brother. Jungkook must’ve told him by now about the two of you hooking up at Seokjin’s wedding, so the fact that Yoongi knows and isn’t reacting to that information at all can only mean that he really doesn’t think of you in that way at all. Yoongi has no interest in you past very platonic, and that makes a sour drop form in your chest.

It’s not like you’ve been deluding yourself into thinking the man has any romantic or sexual interest in you whatsoever. But there was a part of you that hoped that one day, he might. Having the confirmation that it won’t happen hurts more than you thought it would. Maybe, just maybe, you like Min Yoongi more than you realised.

“Guys,” you interrupt the bickering duo before you can get too deep into your self-pity; you can save that for later.

“Yeah, babe?” Mingyu asks, and Jungkook mimics him before cackling at the audible slap Mingyu must land on Jungkook in retaliation.

“Yoongi and I have been talking about the boys’ birthdays.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, Jihoon wants to visit Japan, and Yoongi was thinking of going at the end of December too. Considering both boys want the other there to celebrate and experience the home of anime together, we thought combining the trips would be a good idea. What do you think?”

“Hell yeah!” Mingyu cheers, sounding genuinely excited. “Man, we’re going to have so much fun. Has Jihoon been skiing before? Doesn’t matter, we’re going to go and I’m going to take a million videos of them waddling around like penguins in their snowsuits.”

“I think he’s in,” you muse to Yoongi over Mingyu’s excited rambling.

“Me too!” Jungkook exclaims. “I’m coming with you. I want a family Japan trip!”

“Yeah!” Mingyu enthuses. “Kookie can come along, right, babe? We can take the boys out and you two can chill at the accommodation!” he suggests.

“I mean, that does sound pretty good,” you say, looking at Yoongi in wait for his reaction.

“You can come, if you promise not to bring strangers back to the accommodation for sex, Kook,” Yoongi replies reasonably, landing a stern look on the phone in your hand as if his brother will see it.

“I won’t!” Jungkook promises. “It’s family time.”

“Alright, then I have no problem with it,” Yoongi says, and the two best friends on the other end of the call cheer happily, making you both laugh.

“Are you coming home for dinner tonight, Gyu?” you ask.

“Mm, no, we’re meeting the guys.”

“Okay, have fun both of you, and tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do, baby. Have fun with the boys and Yoongi. Bye, Yoongi!” After the four of you have said goodbye properly, you end the call so that you can lock your phone and tuck it back away in your pocket safely.

“Have you looked into accommodation or anything yet?” Yoongi asks as the two of you resettle with eyes on the boys, where they’re now laid on the table of a picnic bench just outside of the fenced park to cloud gaze, pointing out different shapes to one another. You’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying, but you just know that Taehyung is likely coming up with imaginative stories based on the characters he finds in the fluff.

“Sort of, but only briefly. I think Gyu bookmarked some things on the family computer though. If you have no plans, do you want to come back for dinner, and we can discuss it more while the boys play? You can also teach me how to cook in a way Jihoon likes.”

“Oh, yeah, actually, that sounds really good, thanks.”

“This one looks good,” Yoongi says where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar with your laptop to research different accommodations and options while you cook dinner. At first, Yoongi had helped, just so that you know how to cut and prepare the foods so that Jihoon will eat it all, but then you shooed him off to your laptop where it’s been sitting on the dining table since last night. Though he moved it to the breakfast bar so that you can easier talk to one another without raising your voices and risking he boys overhearing.

Upon returning to the house earlier, the two of you had intended to check out the options Mingyu has bookmarked on the family computer since the idea of going to visit snowy mountains in December first cropped up back in summer. But as the boys are in the living room making use of the almost absurdly large TV to watch the same anime show they started last weekend, it’s not exactly possible to use the PC as it’s in the living room too, and neither of you want to risk the boys seeing what you’re doing until it’s set in stone.  

“Mh?” you question, peering over and leaning onto the counter as he turns the laptop so that you can see the screen. “Oh, that’s pretty.”

“Yeah. The resort itself is pretty small and very private. It’s pretty expensive, I won’t lie but I figure it’s not really an issue for any of us?” his tone lifts at the end into a last-second question, as if he has suddenly realised that maybe you and Mingyu aren’t as financially comfortable as he previously assumed; or at the very least, you may not be comfortable with him making comments about the number in your bank account.

“I mean, I assume it’ll be fine unless it’s ridiculously extortionate pricing,” you reason amusedly. “And you have producer money still, I take it?”

“Oh, yeah. Royalties and all that,” he answers simply and nods, leaning awkwardly around so that he can also see the screen without turning it away from your view, and clicks through to find a particular accommodation and show you the price. He’s right, it is expensive, but he’s also right in that it’s not an issue. “There are multiple cabins but they’re all only two bed, so I don’t know if your family are okay with you sharing two rooms? Hoon and I can share one in our cabin and Kook can have the other; I’m fine with sharing a bed with Jihoon and he doesn’t mind either.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine with us. Gyu and I usually room when we go on family trips.” That earns a surprised, and tentatively questioning look from Yoongi. It’s clear he wants to question why you still share a bed with your ex-husband, but he doesn’t know if he can. “I know, everyone finds it weird, but we don’t. We still consider each other our most precious friend, and nothing is ever uncomfortable. Other than when he insists on cuddling in hot weather, forgetting he sweats like fuck during his sleep. It’s pretty gross, I won’t lie,” you admit, earning a little snort of a laugh from the man.

“Sounds it.”

“Mm, but he’s cute, so he gets away with it.” You shrug and turn your attention back to the pans on the hob to check on the progress of dinner, so Yoongi settles back onto his stool and turns the laptop to face him again.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as you both work on your separate tasks, just the clicking of the laptop keys and clink of utensils filling the air. It feels weirdly domestic, and you have to force that thought out of your head before your mind clings to the image. The last thing you need is to get delusional about the future in store for you and Yoongi. Going on a family trip together doesn’t help either, but at least you’ll be in different cabins, so you won’t have to see him first thing in the morning and share sleepy breakfasts together; that really would fuck with your mind too much.

“Oh, these two cabins are pretty much next to each other,” he comments. “One has two double rooms, and the other a king-sized room and a bunk room. I think seeing as you’re going to be sharing with a sweaty giant, it would make sense for you guys to have the cabin with the king-sized room.”

“I’m going to tell Gyu you called him a sweaty giant,” you tease.

“Please don’t; he could break me so easily, he’s huge,” he mutters, eyes a little wide as he no doubt thinks about how buff your best friend is.

“I’m sure Kookie would come to the rescue of his big brother.”

“Nah, he’d say I deserve if for shit talking his bestie.”

“Okay, probably true; he’s always the first to defend Mingyu for anything,” you muse. “You have nothing to worry about anyway, Gyu would never hit you, not on purpose anyway. He’s clumsy as anything. But he wouldn’t hit you for that, just probably pout at you.”

“That might even be worse,” Yoongi mumbles almost dumbly. “Tae’s pout is lethal, and he has to have learned it from somewhere.”

“Oh yeah, he takes after his dad in most ways, the puppy eyes and pout especially,” you confirm, nodding.

“I’d rather Mingyu just punch me in the face than that,” Yoongi decides, making you giggle amusedly. “So, king-size and bunk room sound good to you?” he checks as he turns his gaze back to the laptop screen. You hum in confirmation. “They also have an option to have a vehicle rented and waiting at the cabin; and they seem to do one big enough for us to all fit, what do you think of that? I know we’ll be doing our own things a lot, but I figure we don’t really need two cars when there’s trains and buses and stuff.”

“Yeah, makes sense to me. We’ll put all our names down so any of us can drive it, yeah?”

“Mm, yeah, can do,” he agrees before falling quiet once again.

Although it took him a while, Jihoon ate everything on his plate happily, and you’re still riding that high of approval even once you and Yoongi are done cleaning up from dinner and are sitting in the living room looking at your laptop together while the boys get some air in the back garden while it’s still early enough to allow it.

“I think it’s perfect,” you decide once you’re both done thoroughly reading over the website of the resort, checking its location in relation to activities and necessities— such as the closest grocery store and public transport stations—, and that the cabins that suit your families are available for the time you want.

“Mm, do you need to check with Mingyu before booking?” Yoongi wonders, glancing at you briefly then back to where the curser hovers over the “book” option.

“No, he’ll go along with anything; he knows I’d look into it properly first,” you assure, and reach out to press his finger down onto the button with a giggle. He huffs a soft laugh then the two of you get started filling out the booking form as a bundle with both cabins and the car rental. “Oh, let me get my purse,” you mutter when it comes to the payment screen, and jump up to go find your purse so that you can grab your bank card. Though by the time you’ve returned, there’s a payment confirmation screen up, and Yoongi is tucking his wallet back into his jeans.

“You can send me the money later or whatever,” he decides, waving a dismissive hand. You just hum, knowing that one of you would have to send the other your family’s half of the money anyway, so it doesn’t really matter whose card details are put in for the resort info. “Let’s look at flights, yeah?”

The two of you spend a little while comparing flight deals and travel plans, including how to get to the accommodation from the airport, before deciding on the best method and overall deal, which you book on your card. You make sure to purchase the best seats, with room for the boys to wriggle and move as much as they need to, while potentially disturbing as few people as possible if either of them are overloaded and have a meltdown. You both think it shouldn’t happen, because the boys have been okay on the last flights, but you’d also rather prepare for the worst-case scenario.

Not long after you’re done finalising everything and dealing with the financial situation between you two, the boys come inside, cheeks chill-pinkened and hair a little wild from playing in the gentle breeze. And they both look so genuinely happy. It makes your chest warm to see how content they are together; how they truly seem to enjoy one another’s company so much and can find ways to play together that suits them both enough to have these precious smiles glued to their faces.

“C’mere,” you prompt, moving along the sofa to sit in the opposite corner as Yoongi, and pat the space between you. The pair both clamber up onto the sofa, and Taehyung immediately cuddles up to you. Although he doesn’t cuddle into his dad, Jihoon does sit close to Yoongi’s side, and ever so slightly leans into him. You watch Yoongi’s expression soften out; you can easily imagine that it always feels so special for Jihoon to initiate affection as it’s so rare, even if it’s something as small as this.

“Boys, are you able to listen for a bit?” Yoongi questions; you can’t help but immediately press your lips together, trying to hide your amused smile due to Yoongi using what you have to assume is his teacher voice. It works though, and both boys turn to look at him with attentive eyes. “So, we were thinking, as it’s something you both want to do for your birthday treats at the end of the year, we will all go to Japan together.”

Instantly, Taehyung gasps loud and sits upright, scrambling up onto his knees. You have to pull him back and onto your thighs to hold him tight, press his soul back into his body to prevent him from exploding out and landing on the father-son duo. You think that Yoongi wouldn’t really mind, and would likely just find it amusing, but you’re very positive that Jihoon would not be impressed.

“We go together?!” your son screeches. Jihoon flinches but doesn’t react to Taehyung otherwise. He’s still staring up at his dad with big eyes, but now his mouth is open in shock; you can’t tell if that’s a bad reaction or not.

“Yeah. We’ll have separate cabins, but we’ll travel together and spend some time together. Definitely to celebrate your birthdays, but we’ll also do our own things too.”

“I am excited Japan to go with you and Ji!”

“I’m excited too,” Yoongi replies, looking like he means it entirely, though there is a little concern in his eyes when they flicker to Jihoon, but he doesn’t linger on his son, no doubt knowing that Jihoon needs some time to work through the idea on his own.

“Oh,” Taehyung says, suddenly deflating as he turns his head to frown at you. “Daddy will be sad.”

“Oh, baby, daddy is coming too, silly,” you assure and kiss his forehead, smiling yourself when he’s smiling again in the few seconds it takes for you to press your lips to his skin and lean back. “And Uncle Kookie is coming along.”

You have no choice but to let go of your son when he starts to wriggle so much that his bony butt digs into your thigh, making you silently wince. Taehyung is more than happy to be set free to allow him to bounce and jump around the living room, clapping and making excited sounds, unable to keep his joy locked up inside. If it wasn’t for Jihoon, you wouldn’t want to even attempt to get Taehyung to try and calm down quite yet— you know he needs to get this out—, but Jihoon has curled his shoulders up to his ears and put his hands over them as he stares intently down at his legs, legs bouncing agitatedly.

Though before you can do more than adjust your position with the intention of reaching out to grab Taehyung and pull him back onto your lap to squeeze again— knowing it genuinely does help him sometimes—, Yoongi is sliding off of the sofa and approaching Taehyung. You watch intrigued as Yoongi kneels down in front of the boy and starts to quietly sing some notes. Slowly, Taehyung stops bouncing so much, his eyes and head stop rapidly moving— unable to focus on one thing— and instead, lock onto Yoongi’s mouth. Then, Taehyung’s sounds and hands stop their noise so that he can mimic his teacher, matching the notes with his own voice, though his hands continue to flap and flick at his sides for a few more moments.

“Good job,” Yoongi praises gently when Taehyung has calmed a lot and they’ve run through the scales multiple times together. “Would you like to show me the rhythm game you mentioned earlier?”

Taehyung nods and grabs Yoongi’s hand to excitedly lead him over to the cosy corner; the corner of the living room with an extra fluffy rug, cushions in all shapes and sizes, and a huge beanbag chair that Taehyung always sinks into and gets partially covered in, but he loves it. The pair sit on that beanbag together— Yoongi lets out a little yelp with how he immediately sinks into it quicker than expected, and Taehyung giggles— with the boy’s tablet to play the new, colourful rhythm game while sharing earphones so that you and Jihoon don’t hear the music playing.

Seeing that Jihoon still looks kind of tense, you stick to the trusty and tried method of relaxing him and turn on the soothing playlist— which you know the boy watches every day after school now since you sent his dad the link to it last weekend. As soon as the first video plays, Jihoon’s head lifts so that his eyes can find the screen, and immediately, as if just seeing the opening of the video is enough, his shoulders sink, loosening until his hands lower to his lap to let the soothing music reach his ears uninterrupted.

After a few minutes of sitting and watching the screen with the boy, you get up and go to the kitchen to prepare drinks; coffee for you and Yoongi, hot chocolate for Taehyung, and his favourite juice carton for Jihoon. Plus, a few snacks for everyone to help themselves to because Taehyung is so used to having mini cookies with his hot chocolate that he gets entirely thrown off and antsy if you don’t give him any these days.

While you’re waiting for the coffee machine to finish, you hear little socked feet enter the room and just know it’s Jihoon without looking; you know your son’s footsteps too well to confuse him for anyone else. Curiously, you look over and find Jihoon shuffling shyly closer to you, fingers fiddling with the hem of his jumper.

“Everything okay?” you check, keeping your tone soft. He nods, but hovers like he has something he wants to say, so you wait quietly, giving him the time he needs.

“I…I’m excited to go to Japan with you guys,” he announces in a shy little tone after a few more moments, when you’re setting the drinks on the tray now that the last drink is ready.

“We’re excited too,” you reply, smiling at him when he flickers his gaze up to you, before looking away again.

“Can Tae come over after school so we can watch videos about Japan together? I…I don’t know what Japan is like, so I want to learn before we go.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely, Jihoon; I’m sure Tae would love that. We’ll have to check with your daddy first though.” Jihoon nods in understanding, seeming not surprised that you’ve said that his dad’s permission is needed. Though he does look like he has both relaxed and lit up a little at your permission, as if he is truly excited about doing research with Taehyung ready for the trip.

“I will ask later,” he declares, then glances at the tray quickly, face twisting slightly.

“Oh, do you not want the juice today?” you ask, reaching out for it.

“Can…can I have a hot chocolate too, please?”

“Of course,” you assure. “I’ll put the juice back in the fridge and you can get it whenever you want, okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles, looking relieved, before he turns and toddles back to the living room leaving you to make him a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The boy is just too sweet to not spoil when you can.

Soon enough, it’s the day after Jihoon’s birthday, and you and Taehyung are going to the Min home to celebrate the little boy.

Though as Jihoon’s birthday was yesterday, Taehyung insisted that he needed a gift to take to school for the boy that isn’t the Studio Ghibli boxset that Taehyung is very excited to give to Jihoon today. Which resulted in you and Taehyung spending all of Thursday after school making a whole bunch of bracelets, keyrings, and other tiny little crafts for Taehyung to pick the very best of to give to Jihoon during their lunchbreak yesterday. Honestly, you’re pretty sure Jihoon won’t wear the bracelets because they will likely annoy him, but you think he’ll appreciate the sentiment anyway; he’s a good kid like that.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung calls as soon as the man opens the front door moments after Taehyung has knocked a little tune onto the door. You and Yoongi both laugh softly at Taehyung’s never-ending enthusiasm for calling his teacher by his first name at every possible chance.

“Hi, Tae,” Yoongi replies, easily accepting the big hug the boy gives him as if he didn’t see the man at school yesterday.

Due to the afterschool visits Taehyung has on Wednesdays for the boys to continue their self-imposed Japan research project, he doesn’t hesitate to put his shoes and coat in the correct places, and skip off further into the apartment, making himself at home easily while you work on removing your coat and boots.

“He’s really made himself at home already, huh?” you muse, and Yoongi chuckles, hanging up your coat for you as you work on wrestling your boots off your feet. You knew they’d be a pain in the ass to remove, but Taehyung insisted you wear them because he’s wearing his own tiny version. Fortunately, his boots have zips on the side so they’re easy to get on and off; yours, however, only have laces holding them together.

“Yeah, it’s cute.”

“He hasn’t gotten too comfortable, has he?” you worry, wincing a little at the thought of Taehyung unknowingly overstepping boundaries in his excitement.

“No, not at all. He’s as polite as always, you don’t have to worry,” Yoongi assures. “I honestly can’t even imagine him overstepping.”

While you’re still fighting with your boots— and Yoongi watches amusedly as you swear under your breath at the laces, and yourself for being weak to your son wanting to match—, the apartment door opens and in steps Seokjin and Celeste.

“Take this before I drop it,” Seokjin says, skipping over any greeting to thrust the large cakebox in his arms over to Yoongi. For his part, Yoongi takes it without issue, just an eyeroll, as if he’s used to this very scene playing out.

“Hey,” Celeste greets as she perches by your side on the bench to remove her own boots, her far easier to remove boots. “Those don’t look like fun to put on, or take off,” she muses when you’ve finally shoved your boot off with a victorious sound.

“They’re really not, but I am a mother easily manipulated by a cute face,” you reply with a theatrical sigh, making her laugh.

“She really understands that,” Seokjin says, already sans coat and shoes, and taking the cakebox back from his best friend. You and Yoongi exchange a surprised look before looking between the couple.

“Are you pregnant?” you ask Celeste quietly, not wanting to risk the boys overhearing.

“No,” she answers with a laugh.

“I meant my cute face,” Seokjin informs. You and Yoongi exchange another matching look, this one world-weary, and Seokjin immediately squawks in offense. “Hey!”

“I’m going to ban you from my apartment if you say shit like that here,” Yoongi warns, though judging by Seokjin’s eye roll, it’s not the first time Yoongi’s made that very same empty threat towards the broad-shouldered male.

The four of you make your way together through the apartment, with Yoongi by your side to point out where the different rooms are as it’s your first time in his home. You have to admit, something about it feels exactly like Yoongi; homely, comforting, with enough quirks and knickknacks to give little pops of parts of him that you’ve not had the chance to see much of yet. Of course, there’s also a lot of Jihoon in the apartment, and in some parts it seems more Jihoon than Yoongi, so you have to assume that those areas— like the armchair in the living room with a soft, anime printed blanket, and plushie draped on the seat— are the boy’s preferred spots.

The living room is empty of life, so you all walk down the hallway to pop your heads into Jihoon’s bedroom, where he’s sitting on the floor with Taehyung, and showing him what must be new figurines he got for his birthday yesterday, based on how Taehyung is looking at them with such awe as if he’s never seen them before. You know your son well enough to know that he definitely would’ve familiarised himself with them on previous visits if they were already in Jihoon’s possession.

“Hi, birthday boy! Seokjin crows, though he’s regulating his volume to keep it at a level he knows Jihoon can handle, without losing any of the playful enthusiasm from his tone.

“Hi, Uncle Jin,” Jihoon replies, then smiles at you and Celeste— greeting you both by name—, before he looks aside, shy under all the attention.

“Did daddy spoil you yesterday?” Seokjin coos, walking over to squat down with the boys and look at the figurines without touching. You recall a note on the document that Yoongi wrote for you about his son, stating that Jihoon can be very particular about his precious items, and doesn’t even let Yoongi touch them sometimes, so it’s always best to tread carefully with Jihoon’s personal possessions. Seokjin must know that information from knowing the boy since he was a baby.

“No,” Jihoon replies. “This is from Uncle Kookie,” he informs, motioning to the collection of figurines.

“Oh? Daddy didn’t spoil you? The audacity!” The theatrics makes both boys giggle, and Seokjin smiles, pleased at himself for making the pair laugh— and so cutely too. “Well, Cel and I will have to make up for that, won’t we?” he winks, then motions Celeste over, so the woman approaches and places the gift bag in her hands down.

It’s only now that Jihoon tentatively reaches for it and his jumper sleeve pulls back, that you notice two of the bracelets Taehyung made for him tied securely around the little boy’s wrist. Your lips turn up and you watch in content silence as Jihoon and Taehyung coo over the gifts the couple bought the boy.

When you glance at Yoongi a little on your left, he’s wearing the same soft expression and little smile as you can feel on your own face.

The six of you enjoy a lunch consisting of all of Jihoon’s favourite foods and drinks, followed by the cake Seokjin supplied. The birthday song isn’t sung, and you’re honestly glad about that because you always feel awkward singing it, let alone being the centre of attention; you can imagine that Jihoon would hate being sung to like that.

As soon as they’ve washed their hands and faces when they’re done eating, Jihoon and Taehyung excitedly settle on the sofa to watch one of the movies in the box set Jihoon had been genuinely thrilled with upon opening— he had lit up so brightly and beamed at you, and said his thanks multiple times as he read the list of movies included. You’re not sure which movie they pick to play, but the pair are both grinning as they sit tucked up under Jihoon’s anime blanket side by side, Jihoon holding his plushie from his chair, and Taehyung holding one from the boy’s bedroom— which Yoongi tells you Taehyung always holds when here, so Yoongi is planning to get Taehyung one of the weighted plushies for his birthday.

“Goddammit, they’re so cute,” Seokjin mumbles a little while later when he returns to join adult time at the kitchen table, once he’s back from the bathroom and stopping to hover in the living room doorway to watch the boys for a few moments.

“Yep,” you confirm simply. “Speaking of kids, I thought you were going to get started on your own on your first honeymoon?” you wonder, knowing that it’s not a sensitive topic; both Seokjin and Celeste have been open with you about it, about both doing fertility tests last year ready to expand their family. You know that medically, they should be more than able to conceive, and they’ve certainly had the time to try. Plus, neither had looked downtrodden or upset earlier when you questioned if Celeste is pregnant, so you are confident that they haven’t been having issues in that regard.

“We decided to wait a little longer,” Celeste answers. “But next year, we’ll be parents.” She sounds nothing but confident and certain that you nod, accepting her words easily. You’re already mentally planning an adorable, but absurd, gift you can buy for the baby that will outdo the absurdly large elephant plushie Seokjin bought for Taehyung when he was born. It still lives in Taehyung’s bedroom, and the boy sometimes drags it around the house to join him in his activities.

“And speaking of our wedding,” Seokjin says, grinning at you mischievously in a way you really don’t trust. It makes you want to shut him up before he can say whatever is on his mind, assuming it’s going to be something stupid, but you’re also very curious about what exactly is going on in that freaky head of his. “You finally gave in to Jungkookie, huh?”

“What?” Yoongi blurts out in a mutter that sounds mostly confused, but like he’s made an assumption he doesn’t really want to be true.

“Your baby brother has been trying to get her into bed with him ever since the divorce, and I saw them head hand in hand to his room at the hotel,” Seokjin answers, waving at you vaguely with the hand he’s been using to pick at the contents of the tray of cut fruit and veggies still left on the table for everyone to help themselves too, even if everything else has been cleaned up already.

It’s now that you see Yoongi’s expression rapidly change through multiple emotions before turning eerily blank, that you learn that despite Jungkook having assured you he’d tell his brother about the two of you, he hasn’t. “He didn’t tell you,” you realise, voice a quiet mumble.

“Why would he? Not my business,” Yoongi replies, tone a little harsh as he fiddles with his mug between his hands.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Seokjin apologises, looking nothing but guilty as he frowns at his best friend.

“It’s not my fucking business,” Yoongi repeats and gets to his feet. “Bathroom break,” he announces as he leaves.

“Shit, I really thought he knew,” Seokjin says, turning his attention to you.

“Me too. Kook said he’ll talk to him, but I guess he forgot.” You sigh. “He’ll…get over it right? Being left out?” you question worriedly.

Seokjin’s expression does something you don’t quite understand, but it makes your stomach twist a little, uneasy, like you’re missing something big. You don’t like it, so you look away from him and distract yourself by getting up to clean up the empty mugs, washing them by hand as the dishwasher is already turned on, and you don’t want to face the couple right now.

When Yoongi returns, he’s off; like he’s withdrawn into himself a little, and it makes you unsure how to react, what you’re supposed to do. It continues all afternoon and gets worse when Seokjin and Celeste leave do to their weekly grocery shop.

Although Yoongi is interacting with the boys to respond to their comments and questions about the movie you’re all watching— another from the boxset—, he barely even glances your way. It feels like the physical space between you turns into more than that, like he’s putting his walls back up, and it hurts. Hurts so much that as soon as the movie is over, you tell Taehyung that it’s time to go home. He tries to convince you to stay for “just one more movie”, but you’re firm, and he doesn’t push, knowing that it won’t get him what he wants.

While Taehyung sings along to the radio in his seat behind you on the drive home, your thoughts keep turning back to Yoongi’s blank expression; the wall building; the pain in your chest. All you can do is hope with everything in you that the friendship that has only just started to build, isn’t about to fall to pieces at your feet.

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There is a man laying in your front garden - bleeding to death.

What’s even worse, he is an alpha who is bleeding to death.

The sight made you freeze mid-motion, and your eyes did not let the man leave your sight for a single second.

The scent radiating of him made you dizzy because you didn’t had an encounter with anyone in a really long time. Especially not with an damn alpha.

You forced your breath to calm itself and the omega in you roared furiously because it longed for attention and care. But that didn’t matter. It never mattered to you. You had more important things to focus on.

Panicked, your gaze darted left and right to see if anyone else could have found you—which, in reality, shouldn't be possible. You had managed to stay undercover for two whole years. Was everything you had endured now simply going to be over?

Your heartbeat only slowly calmed down as you realized the bleeding man was the only person around.

You thought about going into your hut again, forgeting about him in your front yard and continuing your peaceful day like nothing happened. But you knew already that it was a lost case.

"We always have to help for those in need, my dear." Your mothers voice rang in your ears and you feel like you will suffocate right here and now just thinking about her.

You really are your mothers daughter so you approached the man with quick steps, claiming your future with this decision.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

You left him lying with his fresh stitched up wound in your front yard.

At least he wasn't bleeding out anymore, though every few minutes you glanced out your window to see if he was still lying there and that you didnt imagine him in your head. Everytime you looked out he was still there, his chest going up and down with each breath he took.

A hard reminder that this wasn't just a sick dream.

But after all, your daily routine had to go on, didn't it? You had your plants to tend to; you would probably be sadder if one of them died than you were about the man in your front yard.

As you were out in your backyard, watering your plants and home-grown vegetables, your thoughts swirled inside your head, so loudly, in fact, that you failed to notice the pained, groaning sounds. It wasn't until you went back inside your cottage and saw the man who was supposed to be lying in your front yard instead leaning against your front door, that you let out a startled scream.

Without a second thought, you grabbed the nearest available weapon and now stood facing him—armed with a weed puller. It seemed rather ridiculous, but you were certain you could inflict significant damage with it, should the man even entertain the idea of ​​attacking you.

He, however, breathing heavily, leaned against the doorframe. And would your heart not pound so wildly again, you might have thought that an amused glint flickered in his eyes. Yet he merely raised his hands slowly, his face contorted in pain.

"I’d rather you didn’t skewer me with that thing there."

"Have you ever heard of knocking?!" you demanded indignantly, not daring to lower your weed-whacker.

"I would have knocked if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that you were the one who probably put me back together.", he looked at you and your weapon of choice in your hand and nodded towards it, "If I had known that you want to kill me now after saving my life I would rather leave now."

Your eyes immediately went to his injured side and thousands of emotions swirled inside you. To your misfortune, the omega buried deep inside you purred in delight at the sight of the Alpha and you breathed in annoyed. You ignored his remark and the stupid omega inside you and wondered how the hell he is able to stand with this kind of wound he has.

The wound you tended to was deep, and… you took a closer look at him.

It took every ounce of his strength to remain upright. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his hands repeatedly clenched into fists as if the mere thought of lying helplessly on the ground again would cause him even greater pain.

Slowly you lowered your „weapon" and eyed him cautiously before nodding your chin towards a chair. He was still hurt, you reminded yourself and that thought alone calmed you down even a little bit. "Sit down. You’re about to collapse again."

A scoff escaped his lips. "It takes a lot more than that to knock me out."

You stared at him, your expression completely blank. "Bold words coming from someone whose life I saved just today." You gestured toward the chair once more. "Do us both a favor and sit down, so my efforts aren't wasted and your wound doesn't reopen."

His gaze darted back and forth before—presumably—the logical part of his brain won , and he slowly walked over to the chair and let himself sink into it. His face relaxed almost immediately, and you couldn't help but scoff. "So it doesn't take that much after all," you muttered, and with the weed-puller in your hand, you took a few steps closer.

"Whoa, get away from me with that thing!" he breathed out and looked at you with wide eyes and you rolled your eyes annoyed.

"I need to look at your wound so it doesnt get infected!" you argued and held up your weed-puller, "this is just for my own protection."

"And who is that thing supposed to protect you from?" He asked while looking at you like you’ve became insane for even pointing with it at him.

"You. I dont know you." you answered defensively and crossed your arms in front of your chest. He didnt respond, only looked at you with slightly widened and confused eyes.

"What?"

"You dont know me?" He asked carefully and his eyes told you everything you needed to know. He doesnt believe you.

"Should I?" Sarcasm dripped in your voice and gestured at him to lift up his shirt. But he didnt move, his eyes still sceptically on you and you had the feeling you'll loose all your nerves with this man in front of you.

„Do I have to know you to see your wound?“ The annoyance inside you was clearly on the table now and to your dismay, an amusing glint appeared in his dark eyes.

„Demanding little thing, aren‘t you?“

Your eyes shined with anger and wordlessly you held up your weed-puller and even if it’s just for the joke or if he’s really scared you‘ll stab him with it, he sighed and lifted his shirt up.

„Well, thank you“ you sighed and let the weed-puller fall down on the floor while your eyes examined the neat line of stitches. You did a pretty well job for such a big gash and it didn’t seemed to be infected. At least one good thing that worked today.

„I‘ll make you a compress with some plants that will help the healing“ you mumured and made your way to your little kitchen sink. „That way you‘ll heal faster“ And with that leave faster.

You pretended to didn’t notice the way his eyes stare at the back of your head or how they wandered through the room. You tried to focus on making the compress until a question from him made you freeze.

„Whats your name?“

„I‘ll tell you mine if you tell me yours“ you said without thinking much and almost immediately cursed yourself out internally. You didn’t want to know him. And you certainly don’t want him to know your name.

Maybe it was the starved omega in you that made you behave like that. You made a note for yourself to drink a fresh tea of cyperus leaves later to suppress your omega needs again. The cyperus plant was a lifesaver to you. It help you with your heat, suppressing it until you almost had no problems with it at all, but it seemed the presence of the alpha brings everything down to zero.

Another reason why he needs to leave as soon as possible.

„I don’t think that’s a fair deal“ he only muttered and laid his head back against the wall.

„Are you a wanted criminal or something like that?“ You asked with a scoff.

He hummed tiredly and just shook his head. „Worse.“

You turned your head around and looked at him, truly looked at him for a few seconds. His dark eyes shined in a devastating sadness as he stared up the wall and the empathy in you screamed to help him.

That’s also a trait from your mother like the saying that you‘ll need to help someone who truly needs it.

And this man almost screamed quietly for help.

You blame your dead mother for your next words.

„You can call me Daisy.“

It wasn’t your real name but it was not nothing. His eyes immediately went back to yours and a glitter of peace appeared in them.

„Thank your for saving me, Daisy.“

The nickname on his tongue made you shiver and before he could notice you quickly turned around again, finishing up the compress. You just wanted to turn around to attach it to him, when his voice mumured again in your little hut.

„Seungcheol.“

„Huh?“ You looked at him confused.

„Call me Seungcheol.“

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Seungcheol went through a lot in his not so long life. Being the only heir of the empire of Noxtus was one thing filled with countless duties, endless expectations and the constant pressure to become a king that is worth to rule its kingdom.

It wasn't necessarily hard for him. He had his loving parents and with that the perfect example how a kingdom should be ruled. He had his closest friends, always having his back and besides their mischieves in their younger days they've all become respecatble men and Seungcheol could see the bright future of him and his loved ones living happily in Noxtus.

Until Lunaria striked at them.

Seungcheol was incredibly lucky that he happened to be training with Mingyu at the time of the ambush. This allowed him to use his sword to take out a considerable number of charging soldiers—and he was truly naive enough to think that they would all make it out unscathed and put the enemy to flight.

That was seconds before he went up to the castle wall to see actually how many soldiers were attacking his kingdom. Before he saw how his father fought bravely against the intruders and failed. Before he saw how the head of his father rolled across the stone and the eyes of his murderer locked onto Seungcheols.

Lee Sinyoung. New King of Lunaria, previously a significant ally of Noxtus.

A fucking traitor.

Everything happened fast after that. He felt hands tugging at him and he saw the frantic eyes of Joshua while voices screamed at him to flee.

Seungcheol was never more confused in his life. How could he flee? How could he leave his people behind - his responsibility?

His friends were lucky that he was still in shock seeing his beheaded father because in no world he would allow them to seat himself onto his horse and force him to flee. He would rather die defending his country than flee like a coward.

"Seungcheol, listen!" Jeonghans hissed and the screams of dying soldiers bleeded in Seungcheols ears. He had to force himself to listen to one of his best friends.

"You are going to die if you stay here.", Jeonghan argued and looked over his shoulders. Joshua and Seungkwan stood before the two of them, guarding them so no one would intervene.

"You all will be dead if I leave" Seungcheol argued back and the damn screams of pain didnt stop-

Jeonghan shook his head and Seungcheol wondered if the day has come that his best friend truly had lost his mind. "We'll be hiding. All of us. You know they wont find us."

A pained expression filled Seungcheols face and Jeonghan smiled up to him while patting the back of Salute, Seungcheols loyal horse. "We'll be fine. Hide and we'll make a plan to get your kingdom back."

"Jeonghan-"

"Go!" His friend screamed at him as new invaders reached them and his friends immediatly striked against them. Seungcheol had to force himself to look away and what was even more important, to not look back as he made the decision to flee. He never hated himself more.

Fate, too, seemed to have something against his decision; for just as he reached the forests of Fyndor, two soldiers from Lunaria emerged, men who had evidently taken up the pursuit.

So, right here, Seungcheol had another chance to prove himself. After all, he was now the King of Noxtus—whether he was within his kingdom or not. He would be damned if two mere foot soldiers from Lunaria were to be the reason he ended up dying.

He chose to fight and the years of training with Mingyu and Hansol by his side had paid off. They were hardly worthy opponents for him, two Alphas who repeatedly attempted with sloppy movements to inflict the greatest possible damage upon him. They didn't fight with their heads; they didn't think the way Seungcheol did.

Minutes later, they laid half-dead on the ground before him, and Seungcheol trembled with barely contained rage. With a swift motion of his hand, he wiped his opponent’s blood from his cheek; then, with powerful hands, he took the helm of the shirt of the man before him and dragged him closer.

"What is he planning?" Seungcheol didn't even have to utter a name before the dying man spat out blood with a grin.

"King Sinyoung spoke of the great empire of Lunaria—and he mentioned you spineless wimps from Noxtus. You aren't worthy of leading an entire nation."

Satisfaction played out in the eyes of the man before him, and Seungcheol couldn't help but scoff, gritting the words through his teeth: "Your king will die. I don't care how long I have to hunt him down. He will pay for what he did to my people."

The man before him seemed as if he could not possibly be any more satisfied. He let out a raspy laugh, even as blood continued to trickle from his mouth. His teeth no longer appeared white; with a bloody grin, the man looked up at Seungcheol and simply whispered, "For that, you’ll have to survive today first."

Seungcheol had no time to react to the words, for a searing pain coursed through his right side. He immediately released the man, who tumbled to the ground laughing, and Seungcheol spun around just as a third soldier withdrew his sword from Seungcheol’s side, the blade glowing red with his blood.

"Does a king bleed any differently than we soldiers do, your highness?", the beta asked with a grin and wielded his sword against Seungcheol again. They both tripped into the direction of Salute and the poor horse was cut from the blade of the men before it turned away and ran into the woods, leaving his owner alone fighting for his life.

Seungcheol hoisted his own sword just in time with the attacks of the enemy, clutching his bleeding right side the whole time. He had to ignore the pain and then somehow stop the bleeding immediately. But first, he had to get rid of this runt.

He must have been guided by some higher power. Seungcheol truly could not explain otherwise how he was able to fight with such a wound and withstand the strong blows of his opponent.

But Seungcheol had always been good at enduring. Discipline had been a virtue of his father—one he had always placed great value upon.

"A king does not simply give up, Seungcheol," he reminded himself of his father's words. "He stands tall and defends his people. For they are our entire pride."

So Seungcheol stood tall, even with a life-threatening wound. His efforts were rewarded by fate, it seemed. In a moment of carelessness of the beta Seungcheol managed to slash his blade across his throat. Gasping for breath, the beta collapsed onto the forest floor and wasted his final words with false hopes: "Long live King Sinyoung."

Seungcheol stared at the three dead men laying before his feet and he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars that he would unleash hell on earth upon everyone who had taken everything from him today.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Seungcheol leaned unconsciously against the wall, sitting uncomfortably in the chair, and for exactly one second, you wondered whether you should go though the trouble of somehow dragging him into your only bed. A glance at his wound, however, settled the matter relatively quickly. You had absolutely no desire for it to reopen in any way—his stumbling around earlier had been risky enough as it was.

It was no wonder at all that he had fallen back asleep almost immediately after your conversation. He must have been in unbearable pain, and his body now needed a period of recovery. The thought of how long that might take troubled you immensely.

You wanted him to leave. You didn't need a wounded Alpha here in your little hideout. That would only bring you the kind of trouble you had steadily managed to avoid for the past two years. But you wouldn't kick an injured person out the door and leave them to fend for themselves. And apparently, he was all alone, with those dark, sad eyes of his, and that damn desperate look from before just wouldn't leave your mind.

So you made the decision to get him back on his feet as quickly as possible. Every hour, you changed the compresses on his right side and kept the tea—steeped with basil, chamomile, and thyme—warm so that he could drink it the moment he woke up. You knew that healing required time and patience—qualities you didn't exactly possess. As far as you were concerned, he could drink two liters in one go if there was even a chance that doing so would make him disappear just as quickly as he had arrived.

The sun was just setting, and you stood in the kitchen, gently stirring your mushroom soup, when a pained groan sounded from behind you. You slowly turned your head towards Seungcheol, who was slowly propping himself up a little, grimacing as he slowly rotated his head to work out the stiffness caused by his uncomfortable position. Your hand immediately reached for a warm cup of the tea you had brewed for him before you strode quickly to stand before him, in your other hand the weed puller, which still served as your safe anchor against this stranger. "Here. Drink this," you commanded, holding the steaming cup up to his face.

His eyes drifted from the weed puller to the cup in your hand and with raised eyebrows. He looked up at you clearing his throat and then carefully took the cup from you. You gave it to him in such way that your hands definitely wouldn't touch, and the stupid Omega inside you growled angrily because of that. It was already hard enough for you when you were changing these damn compresses, his skin burning under your finger tips and you had to stop a few times because it was just too much. You hadn't touched another soul in two years and now this.

Another mental note to drink an extra portion of your cyperus tea. You've already drank one a few hours ago but your omega just wont shut up.

Seungcheol took a cautious sip of the tea, and just as you turned around to continue stirring the soup, he immediately spat out the tea you had brewed yourself.

"Hey! I spent hours brewing that specifically for you, you moron!" you cried out indignantly, glaring furiously at him as he stared at the tea with a look of utter disgust.

"What is this?" he asked, coughing, and you shook your head disdainfully. "Herbs to help you recover faster. Drink it—now."

Only after he had completely drained the cup and took a deep breath, you nod in satisfaction and took the cup back from him. "Dinner is almost ready," you murmured, turning back around—now acutely aware of just how small your cabin actually was. For one person, it was perfect; but for two? Where was he even supposed to sleep? He was injured; naturally you would give him the bed. That meant several nights for you in your reading armchair, which stood in the back corner of the room. Great.

Seungcheol too seemed to be hyperaware of the situation he is in, as he stayed quiet and said nothing to you while you were preparing dinner.

A few minutes later, you set the soup down on the small table and sat down across from him, letting the weed puller drop beside your plate. Seungcheol’s eyes immediately locked onto it, and this time, you could clearly make out the amusement on his face.

"Don't you think I would have attacked you long ago if that were my intention?" he asked in a raspy voice; you merely shrugged, your cold eyes fixed on him.

"Better safe than sorry." You began to eat, but he simply continued to stare at you, not even glancing down at his soup. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you turned your gaze back to him. "Do I fascinate you so much that your brain has stopped working? Eat. You need to get well." You nodded toward the soup sitting in front of him.

"You haven't spoken to anyone in a long time, have you?" he asked suddenly, and, caught off guard, you narrowed your eyes.

"How would you know that?" you retorted defiantly, tilting your head. "Maybe I get visitors every week."

"You only have one proper plate." Seungcheol nodded toward his own plate, where his soup remained untouched, and then his eyes shifted to your mug. "You're eating soup out of a large mug, and I watched you spend nearly three minutes searching for a second spoon."

Caught red-handed, you pressed your lips together, then shrugged. "Okay, you've got me. But why should you care?"

"I want to know who the person is who saved my life today." His dark eyes fixed upon you, and were you not so stubborn, you would flee into another room right now and simply barricade yourself in. But this was your house. Your right to defend yourself—to protect yourself.

"There is nothing you need to know about me," was all you replied, taking another spoonful of your soup.

Seungcheol scoffed. "You really know how to hold an conversation." Sarcasm dripped in his voice. "Isn't there always something interesting to know about other people?"

"Not in my case." Your voice was colder than you intended, and you felt a strong urge to change the subject.

"Maybe you could tell me something about the person whose life I saved today." A shadow crossed his eyes, and you smiled at him triumphantly. He wanted to talk about himself just as little as you wanted to talk about yourself.

His teeth bit his lower lip for a few seconds, and your gaze flickered towards it before you swiftly looked away and finished your soup.

"So you don't get many visitors. I guess I'm the first. How long have you been living here?" Seungcheol tried again and finally began to eat his soup. You poured him another cup of tea, pondering whether or not you should answer him. After all, he would be staying here for some time, and apparently, he truly had no intention of attacking you, nor did he have any idea who you were. That was something you could work with.

It didn’t help that you were curious about his situation, too. How did he even got his wound? And who exactly is the man who is sitting here and now in your safe little hut?

"A question for a question," you proposed, setting the fresh cup of tea down beside his plate. Seungcheol nodded, and you gave him the answer to his first question: "Two years."

He nodded thoughtfully and continued eating. You sank back into the chair opposite him. "Who inflicted that wound on you?" You gestured toward his right side.

"Enemy soldiers," was his reply, and you studied him thoughtfully. That could mean many things. Nothing about him suggested any connection to a kingdom. He wore no armor, and nowhere was an emblem to be seen and the sword that he carried with him (and you hid) also showed no belonging to a specifical kingdom.

"Are they dead?" you asked with a quiet voice and Seungcheol's eyes landed on you again.

"Yes."

You nodded, relief flooded your veins. "Good."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Seungcheol couldn't figure you out. To begin with, there was your scent. You smelled of nothing. The Alpha within him was extremely restless, practically commanding him to find out what was wrong with you—why he couldn't classify what you were.

Then there was your manner. You looked after him, regularly changed his compresses, and refilled his tea every minute. But as soon as he spoke to you, your only responses were short and cold.

Seungcheol wouldn't exactly describe himself as charming, but he wasn't actually bad at dealing with new people. After all, he was a prince—now a king—so he had to be good at getting along with strangers. But with you, there was a towering wall, and he could practically feel you shutting him out. He just didn't understand why.

You could have simply let him die. But you didn't. And now he was bound to you in this hut, and he had to write a secret letter to find out how his kingdom was doing, how his friends were doing. Had everyone escaped? Had everyone truly managed to hide? Is Salute alright? These thoughts nearly drove him mad.

The only distraction available is a conversation with you—and that turned out to be more impossible than expected.

One question in exchange for another had been enough for you; you likely didn't want to know anything more from him, for you changed his compress once again, your body rigid with extreme tension, without even meeting his eyes.

The Alpha within Seungcheol stirred restlessly, and Seungcheol wondered what the hell was going on.

At least one thing was clear to Seungcheol: You didn't have the faintest clue who he was. If you had even the slightest inkling, you never would have allowed him to stay in your cabin for so long, not with how guarded and cautious you were.

So he simply had to remain quiet about his true identity, wait until he was healthy again, and then return to Noxtus as quickly as possible.

Once you were finished, you threw away the bloody compress and nodded towards another room.

"Lie down and sleep. You won't recover if you sit in that chair the whole time."

His eyes followed yours and confused he asked, "And where will you sleep?" He couldn't take a woman's only bed away from her.

"You don't have to worry about that," you merely murmured—and Seungcheol had never encountered a person as stubborn as you. And that was really saying something; after all he had often debated fight strategies with Minghao, and that too was anything but easy.

"I can just stay here-"

"Seungcheol." The sound of his name on your tongue made the blood freeze in his veins, and his Alpha stirred restlessly within him, as if he couldn't quite gauge whether he wanted to hear his name from your lips once more, or would rather never hear it again. Confusion coursed through Seungcheol as he tried to focus on your words.

"Please just go to bed now and sleep. You look like you're about to collapse again, and rest is what your body needs most right now." you argued with what almost seemed like a soft voice and the unspoken words filled the room. I dont need your worry. I can fend for myself.

Even though he found it difficult, Seungcheol knew when a battle was over and when not to push things too far. He saw the exhaustion on your face; after all, you had spent the entire day looking after him. That only made him feel more guilty about taking your bed now.

"One night", he croaked out and cleared his throat. "I'm not taking it longer than needed."

He saw how your nod and then gathered all his strength to rise carefully to his feet. It took him a moment to find his balance before he began walking slowly and cautiously towards the other room. Pain racked his entire right side, and beads of sweat were already glistening on his forehead once again, when suddenly the weight on his left side was slightly lifted and it became easier to walk. He looked down at you in astonishment, saw that you were now supporting him with your delicate hands, your gaze fixed intently straight ahead.

Wherever your skin touched his, his flesh seemed to burn and for at least a brief moment, the searing pain from his wound was somehow forgotten. Seungcheol’s alpha perked up with curiosity, and his entire attention focused on the places where your skin touched, as if it would leave visible marks.

All of this made absolutely no sense at all, why his alpha, or furthermore he, reacted that way considering he didn't even know what you were. An Omega hiding behind a massive protective wall? An Alpha freely asserting her dominance? Or perhaps a Beta who simply wanted to live in peace and solitude in her cabin?

Yet Seungcheol recalled that his inner alpha had never been so curious about another person before; and a few minutes later, as he laid in your bed, completely enveloped by your sweet lingering scent, peaceful sleep finally claimed him for the first time since the attack.

(While he laid in bed, sleeping peacefully, you rushed to your small, hidden drawer in the kitchen and quickly brewed yourself a fresh tea made with Cyperus leaves; and even though it was still scalding hot, you downed it in a flash—hoping that the screaming Omega within you would finally fall silent.)

Seungcheol woke up the next morning feeling much better than he had the day before. Apparently, you had already changed his compress; a glance at his bandaged wound told him everything he needed to know. Carefully, he sat up and, with soft steps, left the room, only to find the cabin empty. His gaze swept searchingly across the windows, and there you were, standing in the backyard, harvesting some vegetables.

It didn't take long before you noticed him. You regarded him with an appraising look, then nodded back toward the cabin. "Freshen up. I'll make us some breakfast in a moment." Then you turned back around; apparently, your resolve not to speak to Seungcheol remained unchanged.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

"Is there a village nearby?" Seungcheols voice cut through the quietness of your garden as you tended to your herbs and plants while he sat on a chair, enjoying a few minutes of fresh air before you would tell him to lay down again.

That was your established routine the last week. Eat with him, change his compress, force him to drink the tea and them command him to sleep. You could feel his restless energy but the first signs of improvement were already becoming apparent.

He was now able to stay awake for much longer, and short walks no longer took a toll on him. Bad for you, because he started seeking conversation with you much more often.

"Yeah, about half a mile to the west," you murmured back. Perhaps this was finally the first sign that he wanted to leave. Although his wound was already improving, his general condition still gave you cause for concern at times—especially when he tossed and turned in your bed while sleeping, constantly murmuring various names. Nightmares plagued him day in and day out; and even if it seemed as though he was slowly but surely recovering physically, the same could not be said for his state of mind.

By now, you had started giving him tea with special herbs in the evenings to help him get a better night's sleep. It worked only moderately well.

"I would like to go there. I have to write an important letter."

Your piercing eyes bored into him. "To whom?"

"Why do you need to know?" He asked calmly.

"Because I don't need anyone to come here," you shot back, turning back to your plants.

Seungcheol remained silent for a few seconds before his quiet voice once again broke the silence. "No one will come. I just want to let someone know that I'm alive."

Feelings of guilt stirred deep within you, and with a sigh, you closed your eyes for a few moments. You would do anything to preserve your own safety, but Seungcheol had just barely escaped death. He had the right to let someone know. You couldn't take that away from him.

Your eyes turned back to him, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. And he looked broken. Dark circles ringed his handsome face, his dark hair fell into his brown eyes, and everything inside you screamed that an Alpha—any Alpha—should not look like this. Most likely, it was your hormone-driven Omega screaming this at you but you allowed yourself to listen to it for the first time. Helping, that is something you could do.

So you muttered softly to him: "Give yourself enough time to rest and then I'll show you the village."

And apparently, that was enough for Seungcheol, for a deep sense of calm now radiated from him.

He joined you more and more in the garden. Three days after your conversation about the village you found yourself planting new herbs to your collection and a shadow laid itself over you. You felt his eyes watching you and while you tried to ignore his presence behind you it became harder and harder to do exactly that.

You sat back and looked up to him from the ground. His eyes didnt leave the herbs and he nodded to your bed full of your goods. "I also had many beds at home but none of them looked even close like yours."

"Is that an compliment or an insult?" you asked with a scoff and continued to look up to him.

A mischivious glint appeared in his eyes. "It depends how confindent you are in your doings."

"Then its clearly a compliment."

Seungcheol huffed amused and then, to your suprise, he slowly lets himself down beside you in the grass. You pressed your lips lightly together and before you could even think what the hell you were doing, you took the herb you just wanted to plant in in your hands and rambled: "This is vervain. It has fever-reducing and antispasmodic effects."

When Seungcheol responded nothing a red veil of shame settled on your cheek. What the hell? Where did that come from now?

But Seungcheol nodded encouragingly with a faint smile, then gestured with his chin toward the herb in your hand. "Does it have a meaning?"

"Good fortune," you murmured, and you were just about to plant it when the question burning on your tongue already escaped your lips: "Do you want to give it a try?"

Seungcheol looked at you with feigned surprise. "I don't want my wound to reopen.", a sarcastic undertone laid on his words and you rolled your eyes amused.

"I'll get a medal for you if you manage to do"

Seungcheol grinned in amusement, then carefully took the herb from your hand and looked somewhat helplessly down at the garden bed below him. "I've never done anything like this before…" he confessed hesitantly.

With raised eyebrows, you looked at him with amusement. "Just set it in the hole, pile some soil around it so it stands firm, and then pat the earth down. It's not magic."

"You say so. It always looks so easy when you do it," he remarked as he carefully placed the Vervain in the ground. You watched every of slightest movement, letting his words race through your mind. Had he been watching you plant every single time he sat outside recently? And why did that thought alone make you shy and restless? Gardening was your element. You knew how to handle your plants, and just because someone was watching you that shouldnt throw you off balance.

Seungcheol asked you a question that snapped you out of your thoughts in an instant. Caught off guard, you stared at him, tilting your head slightly in a questioning manner. Seungcheol nodded toward the planted vervain and repeated his question: "Is this okay?"

You looked down at it, and an amused scoff escaped your lips. "You buried it a little too deep." Carefully, you shoveled some soil aside to set the herb a bit higher.

Seungcheol snorted and leaned back again. "Well, seems like I'm a lost case."

"Now you’re exaggerating," you replied with amusement, gazing at the plant with a smile. "Gardening isn't about right or wrong. It’s about effort, patience, and gentleness." You gestured toward the many blooming flowers all around you. "It’s a give-and-take."

He followed your gaze and surveyed all your flowers, herbs, and vegetables.

"Except for the weeds," he remarked then with a knowing grin, and a laugh escaped your lips; grinning, you nodded. "Except for the weeds, yes."

He continued to watch you as you planted the remaining plants, before asking softly: "And Daisys?"

"What about them?" you asked back without looking at him.

"Whats their meaning?"

You froze for a few seconds before continuing and then you muttered softly: "Purity. Innocence."

You hoped that he wouldn't pick up on the sadness in your voic, but that was likely a lost cause. Especially given the pensive look Seungcheol cast your way when you murmured, "New beginnings."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

The days passed, and Seungcheol’s physical condition steadily improved. He moved around significantly more and even helped you carry soil a few times—though each time, you scolded him to be careful about his wound.

He even started arguing with you that you should sleep in your own bed again and he would take the armchair, something you immediately refused, and it was only when you threatened him once more with the weed puller that he finally let it rest.

That really should have reassured you. The sooner he got back on his feet physically, the sooner you would have your peace and quiet back—though, in truth, you had to admit that a comfortable rhythm had slowly but surely crept into your daily routine. Apparently, after two years of solitude, it took only a few weeks to get used to having another person around again; and your Omega was happier than ever.

Usually, you never felt its presence due to the suppression caused by the Pyperus herbs; yet here, while the Alpha lived in your home and recovered, the herbs seemed to be only half-effective. It practically purred beneath your skin all day long, and whenever he was even just in your vicinity, your Omega would be happier than it had ever been before, much to your dislike.

While his body steadily recovered, his mind remained stagnant. You could clearly tell that normal, everyday conversations helped distract him from whatever was weighing on him. But whenever the two of you weren't talking—and you merely cast him brief, furtive glances—you would find him either lost deep in thought, wearing an expression so sad and desperate that it took your breath away, or watching you, as if trying to suppress the very thoughts that were driving him to the brink of madness.

One day, in particular, seemed to weigh heavily on him. He barely spoke a word, drinking the bitter tea without so much as a grimace, and slowly you found yourself teetering on the brink of despair because his gaze was so damn empty. You didn't know how to handle it, and you cursed yourself for being unable to simply ignore that damn worry gnawing inside you. You were responsible for the well-being of his body—not his soul.

But your mother’s words played like a steady melody through your mind, and you couldn't shake the thought that healing is a holistic process—and that, unfortunately, the psyche is an inseparable part of it.

It was evening, and you were just clearing away the dishes when you broke one of your own rules.

"Do you want to talk?"

His dark eyes slowly turned toward you, and you stood uncertainly in the room, unable to take back the offer now.

"I mean…" you struggled for words, then sighed in frustration. "You're having nightmares. I hear you murmuring names at night," you confessed softly.

His cold eyes shifted back to the floor. "Sorry to disturb your sleep."

"No!" you argued immediately, grimacing. God—what was wrong with you? "I just mean… if you want to talk. About the people. Then I can listen," you tried again, and this time, Seungcheol apparently understood your intention.

He was silent for a few minutes, long enough that you thought he was going to turn down your offer. Which was fine, too. If you knew nothing about him, he couldn't expect to learn anything about you.

"My father was killed right before my eyes, shortly before I ended up here with you."

Your heart stopped for a few seconds and sorry filled you, as you slowly approached the table and you sank down on the chair on the opposite of him.

"I don't know if my mother is still alive," he murmured, "or if my friends managed to escape."

„Was your village attacked?“ you asked carefully and Seungcheol nodded after a few seconds.

„Something like that.“

You pressed your lips together troubled in loss of words. Because there were none. Expect only a few.

„I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I can’t imagine the pain of not knowing if they‘re alright or not“

His eyes shined while he looked at you and maybe it was this screwed situation or that damn omega inside you that the next words flooded out of your mouth.

„I‘ve lost my mother too some time ago“, a sad smile appeared on your lips and you shrugged helplessly with your shoulders.

„I thought I‘ll die right there and now but I’ve survived it. I had to. The thought of continuing to live and to be a daughter she would be proud of helps me going on“

That was the whole reason why you allowed Seungcheol to stay with you. It puts you at risk but it would have made your mother proud.

„When did she die?“ he asked with a low voice.

„Almost three years ago“

You saw how he did the math in his head. That you disappeared into the woods after almost a year after your mother died.

"What about your father?" he suddenly asked and dread filled your whole body und you needed to remind yourself to breath, to remind you that he isn't here. That youre safe.

If Seungcheol noticed any trace of fear within you, he didn't mention it. So you gave him a strained smile and shrugged your shoulders with feigned nonchalance. "He's an asshole."

For your own sake, you had to quickly change the subject again, so that your thoughts wouldn't get caught in a spiral of panic once more. You already shared too much informations.

„Do you want to tell me about your friends?“ you asked carefully. „How are they like?“

Relief flooded you when you saw a smile form on Seungcheols lip at the thought of his friends and just the sight of him smiling again was enough for you.

Then he started talking. Started with a men called Jeonghan and went through them one by one. He told you about the mischiefs in their younger days and how the thirteen of them had an incredible strong bond. Even of Chan, whom he hadn't seen in a very long time, he spoke with deep affection, telling you how proud he was, as a friend, to see what respectful and kind-hearted men his friends had become.

You listened to him the entire time. Laughed with him and smiled with him when he remembered.

That evening, Seungcheol left the room with a smile to go to bed.

The nightmares returned a night later.

You were shifting back and forth in the armchair, trying to find a damn comfortable position, when you heard his pained moan. Almost immediately, you freeze mid-movement, waiting with a pounding heart for another sound, because perhaps you only imagined it?

But then it came again—sounds filled with pain and despair—and you didn't hesitate for a moment. You couldn't; you could still vividly see his sorrowful eyes, or that empty gaze of his, staring into the void right before you. You didn't hesitate. With cautious steps you walked into your bedroom, only to find that while Seungcheol was indeed still asleep, he was visibly tormented by nightmares. Nightmares that made beads of sweat break out on his skin and caused his head to jerk slightly back and forth.

You bit your lower lip uncertainly as worry filled your heart, nearly strangling the air from your lungs. Seungcheol murmured countless names—names that now seemed all too familiar to you. The thought of his friends, of his mother and father, gave him no peace, and you had to wake him before some frantic movement of his would cause him to reopen his wound. That would have meant the entire last weeks would had been for nothing.

"Seungcheol," you called out cautiously, taking slow steps toward the bed. He didn't react. So you tried again, softly calling his name over and over; and when he still didn't wake up, you took the plunge and gently touched his shoulder to give him a soft shake.

Not a second later, strong hands seized you, and the air was forced from your lungs as you were slammed against the mattress with crushing force, with Seungcheol looming over you, his hands pressed firmly against your shoulders.

You didn't even have enough time to utter a single sound and, breathless, with panic in your heart and eyes wide open, you stared at the man who was pressing you firmly against the mattress and who was likely still trapped in a nightmare.

While you were just fearing for your life, your Omega purred contentedly—and you wondered if life was really trying to screw with you, because of course he slept without a shirt. But right now, you couldn't focus on his well-built torso, not when his fingers were digging painfully into you.

"Seungcheol," you said in a harsh voice, letting out a slight whimper as his fingers dug into your shoulder, leaving behind a faint, stinging pain from the pressure. You had to get him out of this damn nightmare; he had no idea what he was doing right now.

Okay, harsh words apparently aren't getting anywhere. An idea crossed your mind—one that went completely against everything you stood for, and the mere thought of it made shame bubble up inside you—but perhaps now was the right moment to listen to your instincts? Your Omega was obviously feeling at ease, so perhaps his Alpha was present as well? Maybe you shouldn't speak to Seungcheol, but rather to the being slumbering deep within him.

So you allow yourself to close your eyes for exactly one second, before opening them again and murmuring in a trembling voice, "You're hurting me."

His grip on your shoulders loosened slightly, yet Seungcheol’s eyes remained glassy, ​​and his gaze did not focus on you; instead, he continued to stare into the void, simply right through you.

"I know it hurts," you continued in a trembling voice. "I know what it’s like to lose someone—someone you thought would be by your side for a long, long time." You took a deep breath. "But you aren't alone." You looked deep into his eyes, and when you noticed a faint flicker—barely visible—it gave you the confidence to keep speaking.

"You are here. Safe. And soon you can go back and see all your friends again, but please, come back to me first." Your voice was still trembling, and summoning all your courage, you placed a hand on one of his arms. "I'm here."

A second later, Seungcheol stood upright a few steps away from the bed, breathing heavily as he braced himself against the wall.

You were still lying on the bed, your Omega disappointed that the sudden skin-to-skin contact had now been interrupted once again, and trembling, you exhaled one last time before slowly sitting up and staring uncertainly over at Seungcheol, who closed his eyes in pain and clenched his hands into fists only to open them again.

You stood up carefully, but instead of going to him, you went into the kitchen and leaned exhaustedly against the counter. You allowed yourself five seconds to close your eyes and catch your breath, giving your pounding pulse a chance to settle, before preparing a tea with soothing herbs.

The tea warmed your hands as you slowly walked back into the bedroom with two cups, where you saw Seungcheol sitting exhaustedly on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. As you entered the room, his tired eyes lifted to meet yours, and he opened his mouth but before he could say a word, you shook your head. "Just forget it," you whispered to him, your expression tense, and handed him his tea.

Doubting eyes sought yours, and when he finally took the teacup, you carefully, maintaining a respectful distance, sat down cross-legged on the floor beside the bed and took a sip from your own cup as well. You needed that calming tea at least just as much as he did.

You leaned cautiously against the bed, and—finding you really couldn't think of anything better to break the silence—you asked in a tentative voice: "A question for a question?"

It sounded like an amused snort coming from Seungcheol, though you could have been mistaken. Then he hummed in agreement, and you looked up at him seriously. "But only trivial questions."

"And what would those be?" he mumured with raised eyebrows, the cup of tea still undrunk in his hands.

"What's your favorite color?", you suggested and when he didn't answer for a few seconds you turned around slightly to look up to him, "Dont you have a favourite color?"

"Who doesn't have a favourite color?" he asked back and you shook your head confused.

"Youre the one who's not answering the question."

"Because you could ask anything and you chose to ask about my favourite color" he scoffed back.

"It says alot about a person!" you argued and placed your mug down on the floor.

Seungcheol only looked at you with raised eyebrows, as if he can't believe about the topic you both are arguing about. But then he gave up.

"Black."

"Thats not a color", you immediatly replied and shook your head and he closed his eyes and sighed excessively loud, but you saw the suspicious forming of an amused smile on his lips.

"And why is that not a color?" he asked as he repositioned himself in bed, now leaning against the headboard. And you had to grudgingly admit that you once again had a perfect view of his bare torso. Seungcheol certainly noticed this as well—but even so, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

You quickly averted your gaze again and took a sip of your tea—which was still far too hot—and choked so violently that you had to cough several times, bringing tears to your eyes.

You looked at him again and saw only his amused gaze as he watched you, and you quickly cleared your throat. "Because black is merely the absence of light. And I asked you for your favorite color, not whether you prefer dark or light."

"What's your favorite color then, smart-ass?" he asked with a hint of a smile and a challenging gaze settled in his dark eyes.

You couldn't help but grin up to him. "White."

Whether it was the sheer absurdity of the situation or something else, you both burst out laughing at the exact same moment. Seungcheol closed his eyes with a grin on his face and leaned his head back against the rest. "You're really one of a kind, Daisy."

A smile spread across your lips, and you were glad he didn't notice your cheek turn slightly red as you held up your tea mug and took another sip.

You spent the next few hours asking trivial questions. You learned about his favorite animal, his most embarrassing moment, and countless other things that didn't reveal too much about either of you.

Eventually, however, fatigue caught up with you once again, and it was only a matter of time before you drifted off to sleep on the floor, leaning against the bed.

You were already deep in the realm of dreams when Seungcheol slowly and carefully climbed out of your bed, gently lifted you up with his strong hands, and laid you down in your bed.

One might think that a whispered "Thank you, Daisy" still reached you through your dreams—though that was something you would no longer remember.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

After that night, something visibly changed between you and Seungcheol—and if Seungcheol was honest, he liked this side of you much more.

You talked to him much more now, no longer giving answers that consisted of just a single word. You shared countless facts with him about your various flowers, and Seungcheol quickly realized that he enjoyed listening to you. He liked it when your eyes lit up with enthusiasm, or when you bit your lip in concentration while working in your garden or experimenting with herbs in the kitchen.

Seungcheol would let you explain which specific herbs were good for what, and one time, you even let him create his own tea blend from scratch. It tasted absolutely dreadful—and you tried your best to convince him that it wasn't actually that bad for a first attempt—but in the end, you both spat it out after taking just one more sip. You both laughed so hard that you had to steady yourself against the kitchen counter, while Seungcheol had to be careful not to strain his throbbing wound.

These were the moments Seungcheol liked the most.

But it wasn't just your behavior and state of mind that had changed; Seungcheol, too, was now sleeping much better and finding more peace. The reason for this was—once again—you; the words spoken that night sometimes played on a continuous loop in his mind.

Come back to me first. I'm here.

The words had a grounding effect on him and his thoughts; yet, apparently, they had also burrowed deep into the needs of his Alpha. The latter, it seemed, was taking an ever-growing interest in you, throbbing brazenly within him. By now, he felt an increasingly intense urge to discover what you truly were—even though Seungcheol was astute enough to surmise that there was likely a good reason why you kept it hidden. To his Alpha, however, that didn't seem to matter much at all.

But Seungcheol said nothing, nor did he ask any questions. The days passed in peaceful tranquility, and he wanted to preserve that calm. By now, the two of you took turns, one sleeping in the bed at night, the other spending the night in the armchair.

It was a sunny day and Seungcheol had just freshened up when a sweet yet panicky scent forced him to stop, and the alpha within him howled demandingly. Seungcheol's eyes turned to your figure, which frantically opened all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, searching for something but apparently finding nothing.

And then, finally, he caught your scent.

Finally smelled what you truly were.

An Omega - a sweet scented Omega had saved his life and helped nurse him back to health.

Seungcheol forced himself to hold his breath for a few seconds and rein in the demanding Alpha within him, but everything inside him screamed at him to help you, to dispel the panic coursing through your limbs and clinging to your scent.

You let out a sound of sheer desperation, leaning against the kitchen counter as you let your head hang, then ran your hand over your face.

That sound nearly brought Seungcheol to his knees, while his alpha pleaded him to help you shake off your despair—to take care of his sweet little Omega.

But he forced himself to pull himself together and carefully cleared his throat. "Daisy?"

You spun around to face him, leaning your back against the counter as if you wanted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Seungcheol’s heart gave a slight pang, and he tried to ignore the hurt—but he wasn’t your Alpha. He had no right to feel offended.

Then you cleared your throat, and the look of desperation vanished from your face so quickly that Seungcheol’s concern only deepened. "M-Morning!" you chirped in an overly cheerful voice, turning back around to reach with trembling hands for whatever random herbs you could find to make tea.

But this time, Seungcheol wouldn’t let it go. Not when he could still clearly see how you were shaking. "Daisy, what’s wrong?" he asked in a firm voice, taking a cautious step toward you.

"N-Nothing!" you replied quickly, nodding toward the table. "Go ahead and sit down; I'll bring you some tea in a moment and change your compress!" You turned back around, and Seungcheol furrowed his brows.

Something was terribly wrong.

This time his alpha won. He stood before you with quick steps and gently grasped your shoulders, quite unlike the night you rescued him from the nightmare. He carefully turned you around to face him, and with wide eyes you looked up at him, tensing up and seemingly not breathing.

"Let me help you" he breathed softly and your lips trembled. "Tell me what's wrong and we'll find a solution."

He didn't take his eyes off you for the few seconds you were thinking before you quietly said: "My Pyperus herbs are nearly finished and I thought I still had some in here but I can't find them."

Seungcheol looked around the kitchen, which looked like utter chaos, before nodding. "Do you urgently need the herbs?"

"I have some today and tomorrow, but then they'll all be gone." You pressed your lips together, and Seungcheol didn't ask what kind of herbs they were or why you needed them so badly. He nodded and released your shoulders, but remained standing in front of you. "Do you think we can get some from the village? I think I have enough strength again to cover longer distances."

After a few seconds, you nodded weakly, and Seungcheol brushed a loose strand of your hair away from your face and murmured, "Lie down again, rest. I'll clean up here."

You offered no resistance, and the Alpha within Seungcheol purred at your obedience, before Seungcheol once again ignored it, watching as you left the room and closed the door behind you.

And so, here he was; with his Alpha, who seemed to have fixated on an Omega who wanted anything but companionship.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Tears welled in your eyes as you laid in bed, reflecting on the situation that had just unfolded in the kitchen.

You had taken such great care to ensure you had a massive stockpile, spending days gathering these very herbs back then, long before a gravely injured Seungcheol had landed on your doorstep. Precisely so you would never again face the problem that was now slowly rearing its head once more.

You had known the moment you opened your eyes this morning that your Omega instincts were more restless than usual. Far too restless. Your pulse had quickened the instant you rose from bed; you had hurried to the kitchen with rapid strides, feeling such immense relief that Seungcheol wasn't in the room at that moment, thinking you could simply down your tea laced with the suppressant herbs, and then everything would be fine again.

Until you saw that you had only two left. Two. Which was far too few.

You racked your brain, trying to figure out how the hell you could have failed to notice that your supply was running low. After all, didn't you take the herbs every single day? Had Seungcheol used some when he first tried his hand at brewing tea? Had you been so utterly consumed by life these past few days—so distracted by the joy and inner peace you felt—that you had lost the ability to think logically and simply repressed the fact that your damn stockpile was nearly depleted?

And now he knew what you were, exactly what you had been trying to avoid from the very beginning. You squeezed your eyes shut in desperation, trying to drown out your father’s words; words that had been relentlessly swirling through your mind ever since earlier.

"Be a good girl and do what Omegas do—obey him. You will ensure that your stepmother and I can live a good life; isn't that what you want? Be a good Omega, Y/N."

Angrily, you bit down on your lower lip, and when you tasted the metallic tang of blood, you buried your face even deeper into the pillow. By now, it smelled far too strongly of Seungcheol—a scent that worked in direct opposition to the effects of the herb. Your Omega refused to be still. Refused to be suppressed. She wanted him. Her Alpha.

It’s a shame that you would never allow things to go that far, no matter how much you might suffer in the process.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

The next day, the two of you set off for the village.

Early this morning, you used up your very last leaf and drank your tea with trembling hands. You constantly evaded Seungcheol’s gaze, ceaselessly fighting against your hammering pulse and surging blood.

Seungcheol had no idea how to help, what to say to make you feel at least a little bit better, or which words would help you calm down.

So he said nothing and walked silently beside you through the forest.

You had pulled up the hood of your jacket, and the closer you drew to the village, the more tense you—and he—became. What if Sinyoung soldiers were there and recognized him? How should he protect himself with this wound and more imporant, how should he protect you in that process?

His gaze drifted toward you.

You, too, apparently wanted to avoid being recognized at all costs—though Seungcheol did not know the reason why. But it wasn't his place to know, anyway.

They each had but a single objective: you were to buy your herbs, and he was to write his letter.

Just before you stepped out of the forest, you nodded in a specific direction. "Keep to the right at the marketplace and go into the pink building. You can write your letter there."

Seungcheol followed your gaze and nodded in agreement before turning his eyes back to you. "Where will I find you?"

You pointed toward the center of the marketplace, where a massive tree provided shade for the market. "I'll be waiting for you under the tree. It shouldn't take long with the herbs." You adjusted your basket on your arm once more.

Then you looked up at him with a sad smile, and Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat at your next words. "I know how important your letter is to you, but…" you hesitated, then looked at him pleadingly, "please don't mention my home, okay?"

Seungcheol nodded and murmured, „I'll just write that I'm alive."

"Promise?" you asked with a soft whisper and Seungcheols heart clenched.

"Promise."

You nodded in relief and then set off toward the herbs. Seungcheol watched you go for a few seconds, his heart already heavy with the weight of the promise, and then made his own way to the post station.

He did not address the letter by name. He knew exactly what he had to write, or to whom he had to address it, to ensure it reached his friends.

Seungcheol stood facing the wall, penning his letter in rapid strokes. He wrote that he was alive; he asked if everyone was well and if they had all managed to find a hiding place. He asked if they had heard anything from Chan. He wrote that he wanted to return soon, but that they needed a plan, and—

Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut in despair. He was a king. He had a kingdom to save from this tyrant, yet he had also made a promise to you. And your eyes—god, your pleading eyes when you begged him not to mention anything about your home—how could he possibly do that to you?

But he did not know if his mother was still alive. He did not know if his friends were safe.

He remembered the screames from the day they were attacked; the blood filling the ground and the lifeless eyes staring up to the sky. The head of his father, rolling across the floor.

"A king does not simply give up, Seungcheol. He stands tall and defends his people. For they are our entire pride."

The words of his father ringed in his ears and Seungcheol made a decision.

He had to face his responsibility as a king. Even if it meant letting you down.

He wrote one final sentence and then handed in the letter.

“Don't listen to him, I’ll cook for you every day for a month,” Mingyu added, voice dropping into that deep register he thought was irresistible. “Steak, pasta, whatever you want. Please?”

Youmi laughed softly, the sound gentle but firm as she pried her hand free and ruffled DK’s hair like he was a puppy. “You two are really nice and I’m really flattered, but… I’m sorry. I can’t.”

The two men groaned in unison, dramatic as always, collapsing onto the couch like they’d been shot. Youmi just smiled that same patient, kind smile she always gave them—the one that somehow made the rejection hurt less and more at the same time.

From the doorway, you watched the whole thing with a half-empty bag of snacks in your arms, trying not to laugh too loudly. Youmi’s eyes found yours immediately. The way her expression softened, the subtle way her shoulders relaxed… it was instant. Like you were the only good thing in the room.

“Saved by my girlfriend,” Youmi teased as she walked over, slipping her arm around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. She pressed a quick kiss to your temple, lingering just a second longer than necessary. To you, it was just playful best-friend stuff. To her, it was oxygen.

DK clutched his chest. “Ugh. Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“You two should just date each other already,” you joked, bumping Youmi’s hip with yours. “Solve everyone’s problems.”

Mingyu muttered “unfair advantages, and why would I date Seokmin, ew” he said while DK threw a pillow at you. You dodged it easily, laughing, and dragged Youmi toward your room down the hall. “I'm stealing her, it's our sleepover time.”

Youmi let you pull her away without protest, waving half-heartedly at the two sulking boys. The moment you stepped out the front door of the house, the sharp night chill wrapped around both of you. She instinctively stepped closer, shoulder brushing yours as you hurried down the driveway toward your car.

As you pulled Youmi away, you didn't notice the way Mingyu and DK exchanged a sudden, knowing look behind your backs. Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly.

“She really has no idea, does she?”Seokmin muttered, his dramatic posture dropping into genuine pity as he watched Youmi follow you like a sunflower turning toward the sun. “None,” Mingyu sighed, shaking his head. “Poor Youmi. She's fighting a losing battle against a girl who thinks a fake girlfriend title is just a joke.”

Both doors clicked shut behind you, sealing out the cold. You exhaled loudly, rubbing your hands together before pushing the key into the ignition.

“That party was ass, don’t you think?” you groaned, turning the heat on full blast.

Youmi hummed in agreement, leaning her head back against the seat. “Yeah...” Her voice was soft, almost distracted.

The ride home was quiet, but comfortable. Streetlights washed over her face in slow golden waves as you drove. You kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. After a few minutes, you reached over and laced your fingers with hers without thinking twice—just like you always did.

Youmi’s breath caught.

She stared down at your intertwined hands, your thumb absently stroking the back of hers. The simple touch sent heat rushing through her chest, tight and aching. Every time you did things like this—so casually, so innocently—it felt like you were twisting the knife deeper without even realizing it.

How do you not see it? she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. How can you hold my hand like this, call me your girlfriend in front of everyone, kiss my cheek, flash me that pretty smile… and still think it’s just ‘best friend’ stuff?

She squeezed your hand back. You didn’t seem to notice the difference, only smiled softly and kept driving, humming along to the faint music playing through the speakers.

The silence stretched. Youmi’s gaze drifted to your profile—your focused eyes on the road, the gentle curve of your lips, the way your hair fell against your neck. Her heart clenched so hard it hurt. She wanted to say it. Right now. Pull the car over, cup your face, and finally confess how completely, pathetically in love she was.

But the fear of ruining this—of losing the sleepy cuddles, the playful kisses on the cheek, the way you dragged her into your bed for movie marathons—kept her mouth shut.

For now.

When you finally pulled into the driveway of your apartment, you turned off the engine but didn’t let go of her hand right away. Instead, you turned to her with that bright, effortless smile.

“Shower first, then face masks and snacks? I bought those strawberry ones you like.” Youmi nodded “…Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

She was one more casual touch away from breaking.

Youmi sat on the edge of your bed, watching as you stripped off your hoodie without a second thought, tossing it aside. Your tank top rode up as you stretched, exposing the underside of your boobs, of course, you were not wearing a bra. She swallowed hard, fingers tightening in the blanket.

“You really turned them down again?” you asked, grinning as you flopped beside her. “They’re gonna fuck each other outta desperation at this rate.”

She shrugged, eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way your hair fell across your shoulder. “They’re sweet. But they’re not…” Her voice trailed off.You turned onto your side, propping your head on your hand, completely unaware of how close your faces were. “Not what?”

Youmi’s gaze dropped to your lips for half a second before flicking back up. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure you could hear it. Every casual touch, every sleepy cuddle during movie nights, every time you jokingly called her “baby” or “my girl”… it had been piling up for months. Years, really. Since the very first time you’d grabbed her hand and declared her your favorite person in the world.

She was running out of gentle deflections. Running out of ways to pretend this was still just friendship.You reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb brushing her cheek. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”

Youmi closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo and the faint sweetness of the lip balm you always wore. Her control frayed another dangerous inch.

How much longer can I do this?

“Y-yeah, they’re just… not my type,” Youmi answered, you arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. You shifted closer on the bed, your tank top clearly wasn't hiding much. Youmi could clearly see your hardened niples, and it was driving her crazy.Youmi had to force her eyes upward.

“Now that I think about it,” you said, tilting your head, “you’ve never told me what your type is? I haven’t even been able to find out about any of your boyfriends in all these years we’ve been friends. That’s kinda suspicious, Youmi-ya.”

Youmi let out a weak laugh, trying to play it off. “It’s not suspicious. I’m just… private.”

You hummed, unconvinced, and suddenly sat up on your knees. Without warning, you peeled your tank top off completely, tossing it toward the hamper in the corner, then standing up heading to your clóset to find another shirt that was more comfortable. Youmi’s brain blue-screened for a second at the sight of your bare skin, the way your breasts moved freely as you stretched your arms above your head with a satisfied little groan.

“God, that feels better. That party made me all sticky,” you muttered casually after coming back with a white shirt that covered half your ass, 'cause of course you were only wearing some panties, like it was nothing. Then you turned back to her with that bright, innocent smile. “So? Tell me. What’s your type? I need details.”

Youmi’s fingers dug harder into the blanket. She could feel her face heating up. “I… I like someone who’s kind. Someone I feel comfortable with. Who makes me laugh without trying.”

You nodded eagerly, crawling a little closer until you were right beside her again. Your shoulder brushed against her as you reached out and tucked that same strand of hair behind her ear again, your fingers lingering this time, tracing down the side of her neck slowly.“Mhm, mhm. Go on,” you encouraged, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Height? Style? Personality?”

Every light touch felt electric to Youmi. Your scent, the warmth of your skin so close, it was too much. She swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to pull you into her lap right then.“I… I like girls who are confident,” she managed. “Girls who aren’t afraid to be themselves. Who are… really pretty without even realizing it.”

You grinned, clearly pleased. “Ooh, so you do like girls. That makes sense.” You flopped back onto the bed beside her, stretching out on your side so you were facing her directly. One of your legs casually draped over hers, your bare thigh pressing warmly against her.

Youmi short-circuited again.

You didn’t seem to notice. Instead, you reached out and started playing with the hem of Youmi’s shirt, fingers idly brushing the skin just above her waistband.

“So… anyone specific?” you asked softly, voice teasing now. “You can tell me, you know. I’m your girlfriend,” you added with a playful wink, using the nickname you always threw around so carelessly.

Your fingers kept tracing lazy patterns on her stomach, innocent little circles that made Youmi’s breathing turn shallow. She could feel her pulse hammering between her legs. Every casual touch, every time you called yourself her girlfriend, chipped away at her sanity.

She wanted to grab your wandering hand. Pin it above your head. Kiss you until you finally understood what you did to her.

Instead, she whispered hoarsely, “Yeah… there’s someone.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. You scooted even closer, practically pressing your body against hers now, your chest brushing her arm as you propped yourself up on one elbow.“Tell me everything,” you demanded cutely, lips curved in that sweet, dangerous smile.

Youmi closed her eyes for a second, breathing in your scent, feeling the heat of your skin against hers.

Youmi stared down at you. Your eyes were wide and glittering with pure, unadulterated curiosity, totally blind to the absolute wreckage you were causing inside her. Your hand was still resting casually on her hip, your bare thigh draped over hers, heavy and warm. You looked so soft, so completely trusting—and so devastatingly beautiful in nothing but that """"oversized"""" white shirt and panties.

“Tell you?”Youmi’s voice was barely a whisper, a ragged sound that caught in her throat. “Yeah! Come on, Youmi-ya,” you pouted, shifting your weight slightly. The movement caused your chest to brush against her arm again, “We don't keep secrets. Who is she? Do I know her?” “You know her,” Youmi said. The words slipped out before she could stop them.

You gasped, your face lighting up even more as you hooked your chin on her shoulder, bringing your lips dangerously close to her ear. “I do?! Is it someone from the party? Wait... is it someone from the company? Tell me, tell me!”

That was it. The final thread of Youmi’s control snapped. The careless playing, the oblivious teasing, the way you could casually strip in front of her and throw around words like girlfriend without understanding the agonizing reality of what that meant to her—it was too much. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't pretend for another second. Before your brain could even process the sudden shift in the room's energy, Youmi reached down and grabbed your wrist. Her grip wasn't painful, but it was firm, completely halting the lazy, teasing circles your fingers had been tracing on her skin.

“Youmi?” you blinked, your playful smile faltering slightly at the sudden seriousness in her eyes. “Stop,” she breathed, her voice dropping into a register you had never heard from her before. It wasn't the gentle. Desperate. You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of how close your bodies were, how little clothing you were wearing, and how hot Youmi's skin felt where it touched yours. “What's wrong? I was just joking around—” “That's the problem,” Youmi interrupted, her voice trembling as she looked down at your intertwined wrists. She slowly leaned over you, trapping you beneath her gaze.  “You're always joking. You call me your girlfriend. You hold my hand in the car. You crawl into my bed, you kiss my cheek, you do... this...” Her eyes flicked down to your bare legs tangled with hers, then back up to your eyes. “...and it's just a game to you.” Your breath hitched. The excitement in your chest suddenly flipped into a flutter of nervous, racing heartbeats. “Youmi, we're best friends, I just—”

“She’s short,” Youmi interrupted again, her gaze dropping to your lips, her breathing shallow and uneven. “She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. She drives me crazy because she doesn't think before she speaks, and she has absolutely no idea what she does to me when she looks at me.” Your heart hammered against your ribs, a sudden, wild realization finally piercing through your obliviousness. The warmth of her body hovering over yours suddenly felt entirely different. It felt so, intimate “Youmi-ya...” you whispered, your voice losing all its playful edge. Your eyes widened as you looked up at her

“It's you,”

Youmi confessed, the words pouring out like a broken dam, her voice cracking with the sheer agony of keeping it in for so long. She let go of your wrist, only for her hand to slide up to your face, her thumb gently but firmly pressing against your lower lip. “It’s been you for years. So please... stop calling yourself my girlfriend unless you actually mean it. Because I am breaking, and I can't keep pretending this is just 'best friend' stuff.” The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your matching, ragged breaths.

Before you could respond, she caught your wrist again, pinning it gently but firmly above your head. Her other hand slid down your side, claiming every inch she touched.

“Youmi…” you breathed, heart racing.

“Shh.” She leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “You’ve teased me for years. Walking around in nothing but tiny shirts and panties, calling yourself my girlfriend, flashing me those pretty tits like it’s nothing… You have no idea how many nights I’ve laid awake next to you, soaked and aching, forcing myself not to touch you.”

Her hand slipped under the hem of your white shirt, palm hot against your stomach.

“Now you’re going to be good for me.” Her voice dropped even lower, possessive edge sharpening every word. “Strip for me, baby. Slowly. Show me what’s always been mine.”

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning. The shift in her was dizzying — gentle Youmi suddenly sounding so hungry, so in control. But the heat between your legs only grew.

Shakily, you sat up when she released your wrist. Youmi leaned back on her knees, watching you with dark, unwavering eyes as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt.

“That’s it,” she murmured, licking her lips. “Take it off for me. Let me see those pretty tits I’ve been dying to taste.”

You pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it aside, bare from the waist up. Your nipples were already hard, flushed under her stare. Youmi’s breath hitched, but she didn’t move to touch you yet.

“Panties too,” she commanded softly, voice thick. “Stand up first. Let me look at you.”

You stood on slightly unsteady legs right beside the bed. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, you slowly slid them down your thighs, stepping out of them. Youmi drank in every inch — your breasts, the curve of your waist, the slick shine between your thighs.

“Fuck… look at you,” she groaned, one hand fisting the sheets like she was physically holding herself back. “So pretty. So fucking wet already, and I haven’t even touched you yet. All this time you’ve been mine and you didn’t even know it. Give me a little spin, baby. Let me have a look at that gorgeous ass.” you did as you were told.Ane she reached out, but only to tug you back onto the bed, laying you down on your back. Then she climbed over you, fully clothed still, caging you in.

Youmi’s hand finally slid between your thighs, two fingers gliding through your soaked folds. You gasped sharply.

“So messy for me already,” she whispered hotly against your neck, nipping the skin. “This pussy has been teasing me for years. Every time you cuddled up to me in bed, every time you bent over in those tiny shorts… it was always mine. Say it.”

“It’s yours,” you whimpered as her fingers circled your clit slowly, deliberately.

“Louder, baby.” She pressed one finger inside you, curling it just right. “Tell me who this pretty cunt belongs to.”

“You, Youmi, it belongs to you, oh shit.” you moaned, hips twitching.

“Good girl.” She added a second finger, pumping them deeper while her thumb rubbed firm circles on your clit. Her mouth latched onto your breast, sucking hard on your nipple before switching to the other, leaving faint marks. Possessive. Claiming.

You reached for her instinctively, but she caught your wrist again and pinned it back above your head.

“No touching,” she growled softly against your skin. “You’ve had me suffering for so long… now you’re going to lie there and take everything Mommy gives you. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, another moan spilling out as she thrust her fingers faster.

“Look at me,” she demanded. You met her eyes, hazy with pleasure. “I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts. And from now on, no more games. No more ‘just best friends.’ You’re my girlfriend for real. My girl. Mine to touch, mine to fuck, mine to love.”

Her fingers curled perfectly against that spot inside you while her thumb kept working your clit. The possessiveness in her voice, the way she watched your face like she owned every reaction — it pushed you right to the edge embarrassingly fast.

“Youmi- Yo-youmi- I’m gonna-!”“Come for me, baby,” she breathed, kissing you deeply, almost desperately. “Nuh-uh” she pulled out her fingers, making you whimper by the sudden loss, “W-why? Yo-youmi, I was, I was so close.” your tone was desperate.

Youmi’s lips curved into a wicked, barely-restrained smile as she watched your face twist in desperation, hips chasing her hand pathetically after she pulled her fingers away.

“Aww, baby… were you really about to cum that fast?” she cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy. She brought her glistening fingers to your lips and pushed them inside your mouth. “Suck. Taste how pathetic and needy you are for me.”

You whimpered around her fingers, tasting yourself while she slowly fucked them in and out of your mouth.

“You don’t get to cum yet,” she whispered, leaning down to bite your collarbone, leaving another mark. “Not after years of torturing me. You’re going to lay there like a good girl and let Mommy play with her pretty pussy until I’m satisfied.”

She slid her fingers back between your thighs, this time pushing three inside you in one smooth thrust. The stretch made you cry out, back arching. Youmi curled them perfectly against that sensitive spot and started pumping slowly, torturously, while her thumb barely brushed your swollen clit — just enough to keep you on the edge without letting you fall.

Every time your moans got louder and your walls started fluttering around her fingers, she slowed down or pulled back completely, leaving you whining and trembling.

“Pleaseeee- Youmi, please, I can’t, just, let me, let me cum, I, I can't!”

“You can,” she growled, sucking hard on your nipple until it was swollen and sensitive. “You’ll take everything Mommy gives you, sweetie. This cunt is mine to edge, mine to tease, mine to ruin.”

She kept you like that for what felt like forever.“Look at you… dripping all over my hand. Such a messy little slut for your "best friend", huh? All those times you flashed me and called me your girlfriend… you were just begging to be fucked like this, weren’t you?”

Youmi’s fingers slowed to a torturous crawl inside you, curling just enough to press against that spongy spot that made your toes curl, but never fast enough, never hard enough. Your hips bucked desperately, chasing the friction, but she simply pinned your thigh down with her free hand and tsked softly.“Shhh, baby. No rushing Mommy,” she murmured, voice low and velvet-rough against your ear. Her lips brushed your jaw, then trailed wet kisses down your neck, sucking another bruise into your skin like she wanted the whole world to see it tomorrow. “You look so fucking pretty like this—spread open, dripping, crying for me. All mine.”

You whimpered around the taste of yourself still lingering on your tongue, eyes glassy as you stared up at her. The contrast was dizzying: Youmi fully dressed, calm and in control, while you lay beneath her completely naked, trembling, and aching so badly it hurt.

“Please… Mommy,” you tried, the word slipping out shy and broken. It made her eyes darken instantly.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Mommy, please let me cum,” you begged, voice cracking. “I’ll be so good, your good girl. Just please, pleaseee!”

Youmi rewarded you by thrusting her three fingers deeper, scissoring them open to stretch you wider. Your back arched hard off the bed, a loud moan tearing from your throat. She watched your face hungrily, drinking in every twitch, every flutter of your walls around her.

But the second your breathing turned ragged and your clit started throbbing under her lazy thumb, she pulled back again—completely this time. You sobbed at the empty feeling, hips jerking uselessly into the air.

“You’re not cumming until I’ve had my fill of this,” she said, sliding down your body. She settled between your spread thighs, pushing them wider apart with strong hands. Her breath ghosted over your soaked pussy and you shivered violently. “Years, baby. I’ve wanted to taste you for years.”

Then her mouth was on you. Youmi licked a long, slow stripe up your folds, moaning at your taste like it was the best thing she’d ever had. Her tongue circled your clit before sucking it gently between her lips. Two fingers pushed back inside you immediately, pumping in a steady rhythm while she devoured you.

“Oh my god- Youmi,fuck-” Your hands flew to her hair, gripping tight.

She pulled off,“Hands above your head. Now. Or I stop.”

You obeyed instantly, fisting the sheets instead. She hummed in approval and dove back in, eating you out like she was starving. The wet, obscene sounds of her tongue and fingers filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and whimpers.

Every time you got close, thighs shaking around her head, she slowed down or switched to soft kitten licks until the edge faded. Then she’d suck hard on your clit again and curl her fingers just right, bringing you right back to the brink.

Tears pricked your eyes. “Mommy, I can’t- I need to cum, pleasepleaseplease!”Youmi looked up at you from between your legs, lips shiny with your slick, eyes blown wide with lust and love. She added a third finger again, stretching you deliciously, and spoke against your pussy.

“You can take it. You’re going to take everything I give you tonight. And when I finally let you cum, you’re going to scream my name so loud the neighbors know exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

She sealed her mouth around your clit and sucked hard, fingers fucking into you faster, deeper. Your whole body tensed, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably.

You were so close—right there— and Youmi pulled away completely again.

You let out a wrecked sob, body collapsing against the bed as another orgasm was cruelly denied. She crawled back up your body, kissing your stomach, your breasts, your neck, until her face hovered over yours.

“Look at me, baby.”

You did, eyes wet and desperate. “I love you,” she whispered, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself on her tongue. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. And I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

She reached down and pushed four fingers inside you this time—slow, careful, but insistent. The stretch burned so good you keened, head falling back.

“That’s it… open up for Mommy. Such a greedy little cunt.”

Her thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles while her fingers worked you open. This time she didn’t stop. She kept the pace brutal and perfect, mouth latching onto your nipple and biting down gently. Your orgasm crashed into you without warning. You screamed her name—loud, broken, “Youmi- Mommy, fuuuuck—!” Your walls clamped down around her fingers, gushing around them as waves of pleasure ripped through you. She didn’t stop, fucking you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking and oversensitive.

Even then, she kept her fingers buried deep, kissing you slow and deep while you came down.

When you finally stopped trembling, she pulled her fingers out gently and brought them to your mouth again.

“Clean them,” she ordered softly.

You obeyed, sucking obediently, eyes hazy with bliss.Youmi smiled, brushing damp hair from your forehead.

“Good girl. But we’re not done.” She kissed the corner of your mouth, voice dropping back into that possessive growl. “Turn over, baby. Ass up. Mommy wants to see how many times she can make her girlfriend cum tonight.”

Youmi’s eyes gleamed with dark hunger as you obediently rolled over onto your stomach and pushed yourself up onto your knees, ass raised high for her. Your face pressed into the sheets, still trembling from the aftershocks of your first orgasm. She ran her palms possessively over your ass, squeezing the soft flesh before spreading you open.

“Look at this pretty pussy… still twitching and dripping for Mommy,” she murmured, voice thick. Without warning, she pushed three fingers back inside you, fucking you deep and fast from behind. Her other hand reached around to rub your swollen clit in tight, merciless circles.

You cried out, oversensitive and raw, but she didn’t slow down.

“Too much—Youmi—Mommy, please—!”

“You can take it,” she growled, leaning over your back and biting your shoulder. “You’re going to cum again like this. Gonna make a mess all over my hand like the needy little slut you are.”

Her fingers curled brutally against your g-spot with every thrust, the wet sounds obscene as she worked you harder. The overstimulation bordered on pain, but the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until your whole body locked up.

You screamed into the mattress as you came again—harder this time. Your pussy clenched violently around her fingers, and a sudden gush of wetness sprayed out around them, soaking her hand, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you.

Youmi moaned loudly in satisfaction, not stopping even as you squirted. She kept fucking you through it, drawing out every pulse until your legs gave out and you collapsed flat on the bed, shaking and sobbing with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby… such a good girl. Look at the mess you made,” she praised, finally pulling her fingers out. She rubbed your soaked pussy gently, almost soothingly, while you twitched and whimpered. “My perfect, messy girlfriend.”

Youmi sat back on her heels and peeled her shirt off slowly, revealing smooth skin and a simple black bra. Your hazy eyes followed every movement.

“Turn around and undress me,” she ordered softly, voice laced with need. “Use your mouth and hands. Show Mommy how much you want this.”

Still trembling, you crawled to her on shaky limbs. You kissed her stomach first, then worked her bra clasp open with clumsy fingers, letting her full breasts spill free. You latched onto one nipple immediately, sucking and licking while your hands pushed her pants and panties down her hips. Youmi lifted up to help you, kicking them aside until she was finally naked.

She looked breathtaking—flushed, wet, and aching for you.

Youmi threaded her fingers through your hair and guided your face between her thighs as she leaned back against the headboard. “Eat my pussy, baby. Make Mommy feel good.”

You dove in eagerly, licking broad stripes through her slick folds, moaning at her sweet taste. Youmi’s head fell back with a groan, hips rolling against your tongue. You sucked on her clit, then pushed your tongue inside her, fucking her with it while your nose brushed her clit.

“Yes—fuck, just like that,” she gasped, gripping your hair tighter. “You’re so good for me… my pretty girl finally eating Mommy’s cunt like she was born for it.” You licked and sucked messily, drunk on her taste and the sounds she made. When she started grinding harder against your face, you slid two fingers inside her, curling them while you focused on her clit. Youmi’s thighs began to shake around your head.

“Don’t stop— I’m close—!”

She came with a broken moan of your name, flooding your tongue. You kept licking her through it until she gently pushed your head away, breathing hard.

Youmi pulled you up into a deep, filthy kiss, tasting herself on your lips. Then she reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a thick, curved strap-on, buckling it around her hips with practiced ease. The sight made your spent pussy clench.

“On your back, legs spread,” she commanded, voice rough with lingering pleasure. “I need to fuck my girlfriend properly. I’ve waited years to feel you. I want you against me. Skin on skin.”

She climbed back over you, kissing you deeply as she maneuvered your bodies. Youmi lay on her back and pulled you on top of her, then gently guided you into position until your legs were tangled, your soaked pussy pressed flush against hers. The moment your slick, swollen folds met, both of you moaned loudly at the wet, intimate contact.

“Fuuck… feel that?” Youmi breathed, hands gripping your hips tightly. “So wet and hot for me.”

She rolled her hips upward, sliding her pussy against yours in a slow, deliberate grind. The slick friction of her clit rubbing directly against yours sent sparks shooting through your body. You whimpered, bracing your hands on her chest as you started moving with her, finding a rhythm.

Youmi’s head fell back against the pillow, lips parted. “That’s it, baby… grind on Mommy’s pussy. Just like that.”

The room filled with the obscene, wet sounds of your pussies sliding together—messy, slippery, and desperate. Every roll of her hips made her clit catch perfectly against yours, sending jolts of pleasure through both of you. Youmi’s hands roamed your body possessively, squeezing your ass, pulling you harder against her, then sliding up to cup and knead your breasts.

You leaned forward, bracing yourself so your tits brushed against hers with every movement. The new angle made your clits rub even more intensely. Youmi moaned louder, her thighs trembling beneath you.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” she gasped, eyes dark and locked on your face. “Look at me while you fuck me like this.”

You kept your gaze on hers, panting and whimpering as the pleasure built rapidly. The slick heat, the constant pressure on your overstimulated clit, and the raw intimacy of scissoring with her had you shaking again within minutes.

“Youmi—Mommy—I’m gonna cum again—”

“Me too,” she groaned, hips moving faster, grinding harder. “Cum with me, baby. Let me feel this pretty pussy cum all over mine.”

She pulled you down into a messy, desperate kiss, tongues sliding together as your movements turned frantic. The coil in your belly snapped first. You cried out into her mouth as your orgasm crashed over you, thighs shaking violently while your pussy pulsed and gushed against hers.

The feeling of you cumming pushed Youmi over the edge right after. She moaned brokenly, nails digging into your hips as she pressed up hard, grinding through her own climax. Wetness mixed between you, soaking both your thighs and the sheets even more.

You collapsed on top of her, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat and cum. Youmi wrapped her arms around you tightly, kissing the top of your head, your temple, then your lips—soft and reverent now.

“I love you,” she whispered against your mouth, voice hoarse but full of emotion. “My girlfriend. Finally mine.”

You smiled tiredly, nuzzling into her neck. “Yours… I love you too, Youmi-ya.”

She stroked your back gently, holding you close as your breathing slowly evened out. After a few minutes, she pressed one more kiss to your forehead.

“Rest for a bit, baby. Because Mommy’s nowhere near done playing with you tonight.”

Taglist

The apartment was quiet when you stepped inside.Not silent never silent when Seungcheol was home.

There was always something : the soft clicking of his keyboard, the low hum of music from his speakers, the occasional sigh when he got stuck on work. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds.

Tonight, the clicking reached you first.

You slipped your shoes off carefully by the door, shoulders aching from a day that felt ten hours too long. Your bag nearly slid off your shoulder as you walked past his office space, already planning to shower and collapse into bed without saying much. Seungcheol looked devastating.

White t-shirt. Glasses sitting low on his nose. Dark hair slightly messy from running his hands through it too much. Rings glinting against the keyboard as his fingers moved quickly across the keys.

God.

You tried not to stare.He noticed anyway. “Baby.” Your steps paused immediately.You peeked toward him. “Hm?” His eyes flickered up from the screen, softening the second they landed on you. “Come here.” “I don’t wanna disturb you,” you murmured. “You’re working.” “Come here anyway.”

There was no arguing with that voice. You walked over slowly, exhaustion practically dragging behind you, and the moment you got close enough, Seungcheol reached for your wrist gently. Before you could react, he tugged you down onto his lap with practiced ease.

You let out a tired little sound, instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady yourself. “There she is,” he murmured quietly. The warmth of him hit you immediately. Warm hands. Warm chest. Warm voice. Home.

His arm settled around your waist while his other hand returned to the keyboard, fingers resuming their rhythm like nothing happened. “How was work?” You laughed weakly. “Horrible.” “Mm?” His brows pinched slightly. “That bad?” You nodded against his shoulder.

“One customer yelled at me because they forgot their own appointment time, my manager kept changing everything last minute, and I skipped lunch because we were busy.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue softly under his breath. “That’s why you have a headache.” You blinked. “How did you know I had a headache?” His fingers paused for half a second before continuing again. “You keep rubbing this side of your forehead when you get one.”

The casualness of it made your chest ache a little. Because of course he noticed. Of course he did. “You ate anything at all?” he asked. “A granola bar.” He looked away from the monitor finally, giving you a look. “That’s not food.”

“I know.”

“No, baby, seriously.”

You sighed dramatically into his neck. “I knowww.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. His hand squeezed your waist once before he continued typing, eyes scanning something on the screen while still listening carefully to every word you said. And somehow, that was the part that always got you. Not grand gestures. Not expensive gifts. Not even the way he could make your heart stop with one look.It was this.

The way he made space for you even in the middle of his own chaos. Like loving you wasn’t something extra he had to fit into his day. It was natural. Essential. “What happened after that?” he asked suddenly. You lifted your head. “You were listening?” He gave you an offended look. “Obviously I was listening.”

“You were literally answering emails.”

“And?”

You laughed for real this time, the first genuine one all day. A tiny victorious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth the moment he heard it. There it is, his expression seemed to say. That was what he’d been trying to get back all along.

You kept talking after that. About the rude customer. About your annoying coworker. About how exhausted you felt lately. And Seungcheol listened to every single thing, occasionally asking questions, occasionally kissing your temple absentmindedly while typing with one hand.

At some point, his fingers slowed. Then stopped completely. You looked at the screen.His work document was untouched for almost ten minutes. “Cheol,” you whispered, “you stopped working.”

“Mhm.”

“So finish.”

“In a minute.” He leaned back slightly in the chair, tightening his arms around you until you were practically melting into him. “You looked sad when you came home.” Something in your throat tightened painfully.

Not because he said it dramatically. Not because he tried too hard. But because he noticed. Again. His thumb rubbed softly against your side. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay around me, you know.” Your eyes burned a little from sheer exhaustion.

“I know.” He pressed a slow kiss against your forehead.“You work too hard.” “Says you.” “Yeah, but I have you to take care of me.” You stared at him for a second. Then groaned quietly and buried your face into his shoulder again. “You’re so unfairly husband-coded.” His laugh filled the room instantly. “‘Husband-coded?’”

“Yes.”

“I am your husband.”

“Exactly. It’s sickening.”

“Mm.” He kissed the top of your head. “Good.”