#dovenet

AT LONG LAST, THE CURTAINS HAVE DRAWN. what has been the better part of hours stretched across an entire day has felt like nothing but mere seconds to sunghoon. at long last, he can peel his eyes away from the glimpses of sweet heaven before him without risk of missing anything.

for the first time in hours, sunghoon can blink.

initially, it offers no effect; eyes long past dried out like they’ve been baking under a lamp. sunghoon screws them shut, watches colours explode behind his lids until he can feel tears dotting his lashes from the pressure. 

matter of fact, he hasn’t closed his eyes for so long that he could probably fall asleep within seconds, even in the position he’s in: slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair, sat facing the window of his hotel room as neon lights flicker by. 

for a moment, he considers it. his head throbs with a migraine from how long he’s been forcing his eyes to stay wide open, and there’s no point sitting here now that things have just gotten boring. you’ve just shut him out, like a prude. a tease. suddenly caring after an entire day of paying no mind to your ajar curtains – starting at the ass crack of dawn when you pulled them back to welcome in the sunlight. 

sunghoon accepted that invitation, too.

it’s not like his attention could be anywhere other than the view of your hotel across from his – not until his body physically shuts down from exhaustion in short, pathetic bouts – but he pulled a chair from the sad excuse of a dining table and sat his ass down right in front of his window; where he’s been unmoving, unblinking, as you went about your day since. acting oblivious to the audience you’ve practically begged to flock over to you, just flaunting yourself out there for any old chump to drool over if they were so lucky to look up from the street or out of their window. 

he considered getting toothpicks to keep his eyelids pried open in those instances where his body began to nod off, until he jolted wide awake and freshly energised at the sight of you padding by the window in nothing but a towel. skin glistening, hair damp and running stray beads of water down your shoulders. 

sunghoon ran his tongue over his teeth – oh, how he wished he could lick up every last droplet from your body, suck your hair into his mouth and taste the strawberry shampoo you so famously use. 

your teasing didn’t stop there. you made it a point to keep walking by that window, just throwing yourself at sunghoon as you showed off your new matching lace underwear, then returned in a skimpy pajama set. 

who walks by one window that many fucking times as they’re getting dressed? you have to be doing it on purpose. god, you’re such a damn….flirt. 

he’s not complaining though. of course not! the fleeting sight of you each time, just innocently trotting along by the window, was enough to pull a good few orgasms out of him; even with his aching joints in this stiff fucking chair.

he’s scarcely left his room at all, which is only due to the fact that he’s mirroring you. you’ve been isolating for days on end ever since wrapping up the tour stop in this city. there was a deliberate few days separating this concert from the next one to give you some time to sightsee, make the most of a break here and take a breather from your schedules – yet you’ve done nothing but remain holed up in that hotel room ever since performing for thousands on stage.

it’s like you know it’s ‘cause he’s watching, isn’t it?

sunghoon paid good fucking money for this view. jake thought he was being smart, snagging a room only a few doors down on your floor. thought he could hear you through the walls, maybe coincidentally bump into you each time you leave. except, you haven’t left once – only room service or your staff visiting to deliver food, offer company. jake isn’t getting shit for what he dropped a whole paycheck on, and yet you’re over here prancing around half-naked for sunghoon’s eyes to feast on. 

sunghoon heaves a sigh, stretching his arms out above his head until the joints pop. aches throb in his forearms, the muscles exhausted from when he was jerking off and having back to back orgasms just staring at the view of your empty hotel room. 

it’s been good fun with you, but the time’s come for you to actually leave. tomorrow morning is your flight to the next city. you’ll be forced to go outside – much like sunghoon, as he’s forced to follow you.

he’s been neglecting his own body in favour of catching any sight of yours through the window. the last time he took care of his health was with the sole purpose of attending your concert here. 

he’ll need to present himself as a real person again. take an actual shower and wash his hair. shave the stubble off his face, maybe even tweeze his eyebrows. he wants to look good for you when you see him. because you will – as you have before. 

waving at him in the stands, blowing him a kiss at barricade, smiling at him like an old friend at the send off. each memory more cherished than the last – each instance the red string of fate grows tauter between you. 

of course, the crowd is all thinking the same thing. he’s aware of that, he’s not stupid. 

but they’re not him. they don’t know you like he does. 

can any of your other fans name the brand of perfume you spritzed on after your shower this morning? (gucci flora, naughty girl… you have a brand deal with dior!) can they count the amount of underwear sets you folded into your suitcase? (5, all pastels. you must wash them at each stop.) can any of those pathetic, delusional bottom feeders say with confidence that you opened your curtains to let them in?

yeah. 

he didn’t think so. 

—

sunghoon hates the airport. almost as much as he hates camping outside of the concert venues. everyone here is in a rush and shoving and breathing down each other’s necks. he’s been here since the early morning to secure a nice, clear view when you arrive, but he’s gradually been shoved to third from the front in the crowd that’s gathered. god, some people have no manners these days. whatever happened to fandom etiquette? they’re all here for the same person – you – but it’s like every man for himself. 

“ay, wait,” jake nudges him from the side, tilting his phone to sunghoon. “she’s just about to arrive.”

sunghoon narrows his eyes at the screen, scanning over the text messages before jake shuts it off with a mutter to mind his damn business. but sunghoon already recognised the contact name. it was your make-up artist – he’s bought bits of information off of her in the past. never got his money’s worth though, she’s really vague with promises to reveal more if you spend more. sunghoon doesn’t waste his time with that scam shit. jake being privy to live updates of your location though?

“how do you get so much out of her? she’d never tell me anything good.” sunghoon asks, tone bored as if he’s not seething with jealousy right now. 

jake pokes his tongue out, flashes suggestive eyes while giggling to himself. sunghoon nearly gags. sleeping with your staff while he claims to want you? no fucking shame… 

there’s a roar of commotion at the front, and sunghoon stands on his tip-toes for a clear view as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. someone pushes him from behind, cussing him out for being too fucking tall, but sunghoon can’t hear anything other than ringing in his ears as he recognises all your staff and security filing out through the doors. and then, there you are: just as pretty as when he last saw you through the hotel window.

sunghoon’s momentarily lifted off his feet as the crowd rippled, following after your crew while you wave and bow to all the fans gathered here in your name. sunghoon keeps losing his balance, losing sight of you as he’s pushed from all angles. people get barbaric in your presence. 

some (stupid) few from the front divert, rushing up to your staff and earning a hard shove to the ground by your security. they’re not all that competent though – a taller fan, one sunghoon recalls as riki that he camped with at your osaka concert, is able to shoulder his way through your stylists and grab your arm. he’s wrangled away by security within the next second, but the damage was done – they can actually get to you. so, they try. 

the airport erupts into a frenzy. the mob of fans sprint at your crew, hands gripping and legs stretching to get in between your security, while they struggle to keep the overwhelming number of them at bay. jake pats sunghoon’s arm before he himself sets off, waiting behind the more forward fans and watching for an opening in your guard. 

a thought forms in sunghoon’s head. he takes out the black mask tucked into his pocket and slings it around his ears, then pulls his cap down low, covering his face. he, too, watches for an opening – but he doesn’t make himself a known threat. he stands back, smiles under his mask when a fight breaks out between the fans. idiots. the horde could easily overpower the common enemy of security, if only they weren’t throwing punches at the competition beside themselves. 

sunghoon pivots the instant his chance appears. a split second decision, he’s flying on his feet to his mark – your staff parted and separated just perfectly enough that he flies under the radar when he steps between them, instantly playing the part as he shoves at the other fans he was just standing beside. he recognises someone he traded insider info with for an exclusive signed photocard of you, someone else who gave sunghoon water when he had heatstroke camping outside of your manila venue. 

and then there’s jake. jake’s eyes widen, shouting something that sunghoon can’t quite catch – not when he launched jake at the wall without a second thought after he appeared in front of him. when a security guard glances at sunghoon, hands too full to think to get a good look at him, he just turns his attention to another frenzied fan. sunghoon’s mouth twitches into a grin under the mask. he’s successfully disguised himself in the role as just another terrified staff member. 

holy shit. he’s thought about doing this before, but never once considered it’d even work. he’s on top of the fucking world right now. this was meant to be!

sunghoon acts like he’s giving an appreciative bow to the guard for protecting him, then backs himself further into the crew, body jostling as they all struggle to shuffle forward – fans still pressing relentlessly in from the outside and blocking the way through. 

he wedges his way through your frantic staff until he catches sight of your hair from behind, the heavens from above parting the clouds and casting a halo of light down on you. sunghoon holds his phone up to his ear before he taps your back, and you flinch at the sudden touch, panicked pretty eyes glancing over your shoulder. 

he covers the phone’s speaker – acting as if he’s on a call – before he strains to shout over the commotion: “miss, i’ll lead you out of here! i’ve just called the airport security, they’re coming to help,”

“but where?” you shout back, perfect brows pinched and perfect lips pouted in worry. he notices the way your eyes flit all over what little of his face isn’t concealed, straining to recognise him, remember a name or a position or anything. he’s this close, this familiar with you – how do you know him again? you’re so cute, futilely trying to figure him out. 

“there’s a private lounge down that hall,” sunghoon points, and your glossy eyes follow. “they told us to wait there until this crowd is dispersed. it’s too out of control to stay here.”

you nod, quick to believe but not as quick to trust. you know that you know him, but you still don’t know where you recognise him, and it’s prickling at you. 

sunghoon says some muffled bullshit through his mask into the phone speaker, then pretends to hang up the phone call. he gives you a quick nod of assurance, offering his hand.

you take it and his skin is on fire. 

sunghoon looks around him frantically, acting like he’s trying to speak with any of the guards but they’re too busy to notice him. he sighs theatrically, yelling at the ear of one that he’s taking you to another room. uncaring if the useless fuck even heard, sunghoon’s already pivoting with you in tow – beelining to the private guest’s lounge (looking up the airport’s map last night came in handy), fingers taut around your wrist like a noose. 

you both rush up to the desk receptionist, who instantly recognises you and starts bumbling through her practiced greeting. you’re too frazzled to reply, so sunghoon does the talking – playing further into his little disguise. 

he’s not really acting when he’s too out of breath to say his words properly, just huffing excuses and puffing lies, hoping it forms a believable sentence that a real staff member would say. the noise from the ongoing chaos outside feeds through the automatic glass door, and so the receptionist doesn’t even let sunghoon finish his bullshit before she’s nodding and leading them into the extra private vip room of the already private lounge. 

you step in first, sunghoon on your heel. the receptionist starts saying some jargon about if you needed any more help but sunghoon’s already shutting the door in her face. the lock clicks, and your head whips to level him with a confused glance. 

sunghoon grabs a nearby chair and pulls it up to the knob, barring the door. you watch with bated breath as he rotates back to face you – tugging off his mask and cap, grinning maniacally. 

he’s thought about this more times than he can count. he’s dreamed of this exact scenario, ending in a slightly different yet drastic way each time. 

he braces for you to scream for help, to cry for mercy, to curse at him or run away from him. you might put up a fight, or you might just surrender. they’re his favourite fantasies, the one that enters his mind most often when he’s fisting his cock with your face pulled up on his phone. 

but you don’t do anything of the sort. you don’t do anything he was prepared for, anything that he’s imagined countless of times before. 

“sunghoon, right?” you say, recognition bright in your eyes as you point at him as if unexpectedly running into a friend. 

he freezes like an idiot. 

“how have you been?” you purr, sitting on the room’s couch. you make yourself comfortable when you lean back, cross your legs. the picture of a worry-free woman. how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?

how do you know his name?!

“you remember me..?” is all he can croak, shifting stupidly in his spot with a thousand yard stare. 

“of course i remember a familiar face,” you simply smile. “i still have the little crocheted penguin you gifted me at the houston send-off. i keep it on my shelf. it’s adorable.”

that catapults sunghoon’s heart over the fucking moon. do you understand how fucking long that tiny thing took him to learn how to make, and then actually make it? the fact that you still have it is something else entirely, but knowing the exact send-off too? because sunghoon doesn’t miss a single one. 

he doesn’t always get barricade, nor does he always get an interaction in with you, but he’s always there at your concerts. he’d rather die than skip showing up for his girl. every stop around the globe, he’s followed you. even when you’re not performing – attending events as a brand ambassador, going on vacations that aren’t on your public schedule. he’s easily dropped multiple zeros in dollars on paying off your sleazy staff members to forfeit insider information or set aside the vip tickets. 

it’s how he knows you’re a single girl, too. have been for quite a while. 

“so how have you been?” you ask him, smiling too fondly for someone who’s essentially his hostage. maybe all the time he spent meticulously doing skincare and waxing his face paid off – the stockholm syndrome affecting you in real time because he’s that hot. 

“oh– well, i don’t do much.” he replies without thinking. stupid, fucking stupid piece of shit. you probably think he’s such a boring loser. scrambling for something to impress you, he adds: “i’ve been spending a lot of money on a certain special someone.” 

sunghoon grins, intentionally popping the dimples from his cheeks so he looks like less of a threat. 

“is that so?” you ask, arching your back as you sit upright. his eyes track the movement, entranced. you’re flirting. “she must be a very lucky girl.”

sunghoon waves it off, like it’s nothing. because it is. you’ve consumed his life – there is no him without you. your music is what pulled him from the murky pits of water in his own head. instead of letting the waves drag him under, you made him want to tread above the surface and stay breathing. just so he could watch your career grow, your dreams come true. you saved his life and so he owes it to you. this is how he leads a fulfilling existence; following after you is how he breathes. 

“just want to make her happy. see her smile. be the reason she keeps making music, keeps living her dream.” sunghoon murmurs, taking space with each word, stepping until he’s towering before you. “are you? is it everything that you dreamed of?”

there’s a flicker across your face of something that he catches, but can’t quite place. before he can even interpret it, you’re smiling again like the sparkle in your eyes never left, shrugging one shoulder. 

“not in certain moments. but when i’m performing, that’s where i’m really living.” 

sunghoon’s hands twitch at his sides, wishing so desperately to reach out for you, to hold you for comfort or to shake you around until you cry, to throw you down and demand what he wants. he doesn’t know. he just needs to prove that he can affect you a sliver of the amount that you affect him. you’re not even scared right now. do you even care that he’s here? would you even react if security barged down the door and shot him in the head? 

there’s an endless list worth of questions he’s wanted to ask you before he dies – industry gossip, your deepest secrets that not even staff know, future releases, specific questions about you that are just to satiate his own greed to know every corner of your being – but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it. he just blurts–

“do you think i won’t hurt you?”

sunghoon’s quite used to the feeling of keeping his eyes open as wide as possible, and he does so that he can take in every little flinch of your face. any reaction that passes across your features, no matter how miniscule. anything for him to interpret – to know if this is all an elaborate act, that you’re actually shaken to your core in fear of the man before you. but– 

nothing. nothing. nothing. 

he holds his eyes open so he doesn’t miss anything, but you do the same right back at him. you don’t blink either, so your faces just stare back at one another, expressionless and carved from stone. he locked you in here with him, he should be the one demanding all the cooperation – and yet all the power is in your hands. he doesn’t understand. 

“will you?” you ask, unphased.

he could, he thinks. he’d leave a mark at least – proof he was here, he got this close. he’d be hailed as some sort of messiah among your most devoted fans. 

but he doesn’t want to. he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, heat flaring behind his nose the only warning before guilty tears nearly dot his lashes. he shuts his eyes hard enough, quick enough that they don’t water. 

you shift in your seat, seeming intrigued. 

“no?” you ask him, and he nods in tiny again. you smile. “no. i didn’t think you were that type of person.” 

sunghoon’s breath rattles out from his throat. you shift forward, your hands reaching up to hover by his legs. you stare at him through your lashes, and his cock stands to attention just at the sight of you so close. regardless of if you’re even asking – he nods. 

your palms gently plant on either side of his thighs, and so much electricity courses through sunghoon’s blood that he’s almost worried he’ll zap and kill you. 

“i don’t know if i’ve ever told you before, but.. you’re really handsome, sunghoon.” 

his adam’s apple bobs almost painfully in a harsh gulp. it does nothing to relieve his cotton mouth. 

“you’re gorgeous.” he chokes out. “so much. perfect.” he’s just murmuring nonsense, brain turning to complete mush at the feel of your hands sliding over his pants. 

you sigh softly. “i feel so grateful, to be loved by you.” 

your hands glide to his front, his cock twitching as the heat of your fingertips graze closer. your thumbs brush at his hipbone, lingering at the band of his pants. 

“let me?” you whisper. so quietly, he thinks he must’ve hallucinated it. 

but he blinks, once and again, and he knows that the way you’re looking at him is real – because his brain could’ve never conjured it. 

you’re so fucking pretty. licking your lips, looking at him through eager eyes. fuck, you’re asking him to let you? even if you didn’t have his word, you could do whatever the fuck you want to him and he’d just take it like the grateful man he is. 

realising he’s making you wait, sunghoon chokes on his answer – his own hands fumbling to unbutton the pants for you. shaky fingers drag his zipper down, ripping the flyer open enough to reveal a glimpse of the prominent bulge in his boxers underneath. 

you follow his lead, flashing a smile that melts his entire being as your fingers find his waistband. you tug gently, and he winces as his length pulls with the movement. he only hopes that you don’t mention the massive stain of pre already there. the front of his pants have been growing tighter with each minute since he locked you in this room. 

slowly, you pull the fabric down until his cock bobs free, flushed red and leaking like a faucet. you blink at its size, wetting your lips again as your fingers reach out to wrap around the base. sunghoon just manages to stifle the sob of relief that nearly left his chest. 

he can’t help how his greedy pelvis bucks forward slightly, and is just as quick to cuss himself out for being so selfish. you make a small hum before leaning in, tapping your lips to the tip. so fucking soft..

you stretch your mouth around him, swallowing his whole length down until you meet your own fingers. sunghoon’s shaking above you, not even registering the embarrassing noises leaving his mouth from the pure ecstasy. you’re so hot and wet around him, tongue so perfectly tracing the vein on the underside of his length. 

you reverse the movement, pulling back and sucking as you go. sunghoon can’t even form a coherent thought, hands trembling at his sides when he should really reach out and pinch to check if you’re real. though the way your mouth seals tight around him feels real enough, the way your tongue swirls his head and laves at the slit. 

overwhelming pleasure seizes his body as you begin to bob your head, stars exploding from the inside out – and sunghoon blacks out. 

by the time he comes back to, he doesn’t immediately realise what happened. it’s not until he winces at the near painful sensitivity in his cock – glancing down as your glossy lips pop off his length, the sharp sensation sending goosebumps racing across his flesh. 

you grin intentionally at him, opening your mouth to show the mess coating your tongue. it’s only then that sunghoon realises he even came. 

prematurely. like a fucking virgin. 

you making a show of swallowing it, throat bobbing as the taste of him slides down. his cock twitches at the sight. 

sunghoon gathers his bearings, runs a hand through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. there’s a laundry list of things he would (and could) kill to do to you. every scenario he’s imagined, every position he’s daydreamed. his mind overloads with all the possibilities, causing his body to blank and still – while you’re still just there, waiting for him.

he shakes his head, settling on the decision that he’ll drop to his knees and return the favour. taste your slick between his teeth, unravel you on his tongue and feel you around his fingers. he almost drools just picturing it. 

BANG. BANG. 

sunghoon leaps from his skin at the sudden noise, whipping his head to the door and watching it shake in its frame, the knob wiggling. there’s overlapping voices on the other side yelling out your name, but you don’t seem the least bit rattled. 

you take it upon yourself to tuck sunghoon back into his pants, zipping it shut and giving his thigh a little pat – as if to reassure him. his heart would swell with affection, if only it wasn’t completely gripped with fear. 

“no need to worry!” you call out to the concerned shouts, then flash sunghoon an apologetic glance. “sorry about all that, excuse me.”

you cross the room to the door casually, as if you’re just letting in some guests to your home. you move the chair to the side, flick the lock and step back expectantly – the door flying open and slamming into the wall from the force. 

staff swarm you and fuss about, forming a protective blockade around you. that annoying receptionist appears at the door, pointing at sunghoon with a glare – then your security is quick to follow and hone in on him. sunghoon braces himself to sprint, to fight if he must, but you intervene; calling out to the guards and shooing them away from him like flies. 

“yes, yes. i’m alright.” you brush off your dress, throwing sunghoon a deliberate smile over your shoulder. “just catching up with a friend.”

not one of your crew buy that for one second, but without any signs of a visible struggle (and your own word), sunghoon knows that they can’t put a single finger on him. he smirks to himself, the power surge pumping hot in his veins. 

your crew are about to usher you back outside – sunghoon picking up scattered murmurs, one of which being that a few fans were arrested – but the circle halts with you as you spin on your heel, weaving through your staff and standing in front of sunghoon like everyone in this room isn’t watching. 

his heart beats like a rabid hare thumping its foot, head light and airy from the adrenaline. 

you reach for his fingers, lacing them with yours gently, and sunghoon catches your staff bracing themselves behind. you pay them no mind. 

“i’ll see you in sydney?” you smile. not one of your practiced or artificial ones – genuine. a bright ray of light to warm him and only him. 

sunghoon melts. he nods, pulse frenzied under the swipe of your thumb on his wrist. like hell he wouldn’t be there.

your smile splits even wider into your cheeks, eyes sparkling. 

“it’s a date then.”

—

following his impulsive stunt at the airport, sunghoon only narrowly avoided arrest, which he suspects is because of your own interference. he’s still able to catch the flight directly after yours and follow you en route to australia. 

which– well, you came onto him, so what law was really broken on his part? none that seemed to bother you too much, seeing as you were more than happy to shove his cock in your mouth.

sunghoon hasn’t washed since. he doesn’t want to scrub off the traces of your saliva, doesn’t want to smother your touch with his own; knowing it couldn’t begin to compare. he could almost cry from the pain of his boners when replaying the memory, but he refuses to relieve it himself. 

riding on that extreme high, sunghoon has the confidence to text your number. he bought it from some staff members ages ago but couldn’t find the words to strike up a conversation, one that’d catch your eye among all the other fans choking up your private messages. 

typing out and backspacing for what might’ve been hours, sunghoon settles on literally just stating his name and a simple hello. 

he doesn’t think he needs any more than that, really. you already remembered his face, name, the penguin he crocheted – and sucked him off – so you’re well acquainted at this point. 

he may as well just ask you out, right? he knows for a fact that you’re not exactly handing out blowjobs like candy for fans. you have self-respect, you’re a romantic at heart. you wouldn’t just.. throw yourself at anyone, not if it didn’t mean something. right? 

he’s known you’re the one for him, only one all these years – and it seems just getting you in a room alone is how it clicked for you, too. 

strung along by red twine, dancing around your fate at concerts and events – then pulled as if on a leash, until you were on your knees and wrapping your mouth around him. 

sunghoon stuffs his face in his hands as it burns red, rolling around in the hotel bed and giggling to himself. fuck, what a slowburn. such a damn tease. you like the chase, huh? you like seeing him lose his fucking mind, pining after you? 

at the sudden ding of his phone, he rises upright in bed like a vampire and swipes the device from his side table – heart palpitations revving up like a harley as he reads your name in the notification. 

you actually answered. 

not a question on how he got your number, or why he locked you in that room, or what he even wants from you. you happily greet him right back. ask about his flight, if he’s settled in alright. 

and then you just… talk. like real people do. 

naturally, he’s got access to your schedule, so he knows how impossibly busy you’ll be within the day, every hour accounted for leading up to the concert. but you still find time to text him back, to engage in conversation and inquire about how he’s doing like the absolute sweetheart you are. you get to know him, really know him, outside of just the devilishly handsome guy who’s made your music his entire personality. you don’t talk a whole lot about yourself – but all of it goes without saying. sunghoon already knows everything there is to know about you except for what goes on in your actual brain.

you seem.. bored, almost. like he’s the most interesting thing you’ve got going on, as a world famous popstar. conversations turning dull when he asks about your life off the clock – but you’ll light right up when you’re talking about him. asking about his hobbies and his schooling and his parents.

each word sunghoon trades with you feels like he’s boiling alive and then dipped in ice water. it’s startling how it all feels so natural, flowing and blooming into something genuine. sunghoon would have you in any way he’d be lucky enough to get – as in sick with fear or scathing with hatred – but he’s not equipped to understanding what it actually is. you’re giving him your time because you get along, and you think he’s hot and you laugh at his jokes. 

you never mention how he’s followed you across the globe, how he’s always there as an audience when you’re performing or when you’re not even working. but, then again, you also might not even care. considering you’re still chatting him up over text despite it all when you could’ve just.. let the authorities deal with him. 

the day of your concert, sunghoon arrives to camp outside of the stadium before the sun’s even up. he’s joined by some familiar faces (jake among them, who flips him off and doesn’t acknowledge him again) while waiting through the sweltering southern heat, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for you to text him back in fleeting increments throughout the day. 

he never doubted it, but sunghoon’s amazed by how he keeps falling even deeper in love with you. it’s like you couldn’t give less of a fuck about who he is and what he does – about who you are and why you shouldn’t even be allowing him space in your life. 

but circumstances can be damned where fate is concerned. 

in the end, it’s you and him. 

it’s like heaven’s gates parting when the crowd’s finally allowed inside the venue, sunghoon rushing in for his rightful spot at the barricade. time crawls by painstakingly slow, bodies packed in like sardines and overlapping voices like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. the hours are punctuated with a reply or two from you, and the bliss is enough to get him through the wait. right up until you text him that you’re nervous, he wishes you good luck, and within the next minute you’re raised up onto the stage via platform for the soundcheck. 

your eyes find sunghoon in an instant. you trade big, cheesy grins like two puppies in love – confused whispers and jealous glares rolling through the crowd. 

you go about performing as usual, singing an interesting choice of tracks, on the spicier side of your discography. you even make it a point to dance a little for him, standing on the edge of the stage to give him an upskirt view – even checking if he’s looking with a cheeky smile. his cock throbs where it’s pressed into the railing, the cold metal ineffective in deterring it. god, he’s fucking crazy about you. 

when the soundcheck comes to a torturous end, you throw sunghoon a wink, holding his heated stare as you disappear below the stage. 

well. after all that he thinks he needs a good fucking wank. 

he’s so dazed in his own little world, sunghoon doesn’t even register the crowd parting behind him – not until he’s being grabbed on the shoulder, a gruff male voice low in his ear. 

a security guard roughly spins him around, leading him out of the pit, his beloved barricade spot being filled within the next second. sunghoon can’t even bring himself to feel pissed off at the loss of his view or at the smug grins of jealous motherfuckers in the crowd – not when his heart sinks below his feet and his mind spins at a mile a minute as the guard pushes him through various dark corners and empty corridors. 

did it all catch up to him? were you really fooling him? this is it, isn’t it? you were just building a case against him. you didn’t actually like him. 

pfft, who was he kidding? you’ve got the evidence ready, the police are actively waiting outside to take him away in cuffs. oh fuck he’s so stupid. he’s so fucking stupid. this is what he gets for giving his heart to a woman, a celebrity at that. you’d never want him. there’s no way he’s the first fan you’ve done this with. he’s just a placeholder. you think you’re too good for him. you–

“sunghoon!” 

the sound of your voice slices through his racing thoughts. the sight of your face hits him like an arrow to the chest, his thumper heart threatening to leap from his ribs. 

you coo out something to him he can’t quite catch over the ringing in his ears – followed by a flick of your wrist to direct the security guard back out the door they came from. 

you’re still dressed in the soundcheck outfit, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes your skin appear as if glowing, cloying in the air with a faint perfume. he thinks you’ve never looked prettier like this, out of breath and clammy; perceiving you without the filter of that perfectly curated idol image. 

you set down an empty bottle of water before pacing over, stopping just before him. barely one step and he could close this distance. is that what you want?

“hey,” you get his attention, regarding him with such a soft smile that he nearly drops to his knees right then. “how was it?” 

“good–” he answers plainly before stepping to you, leaving no time to react before both of his hands are swallowing either side of your waist. your breath hitches as he tugs you in, pressing himself flush against your front. “–you do this type of fan service often?” he grits out, locking much harsher words behind his teeth. 

“what?” you stare cluelessly with big lost eyes, gasping when his fingers dig in until his nails sting your flesh. 

“i can’t be the only one, right? fuck, i’m so dumb.” he chuckles bitterly to himself. “you trying to get more money out of me? or is this some kind of sick fun to you?” sunghoon shakes you in his arms, riling himself up more by the second. “huh? you enjoy leading your fans on?? tell me honestly please, don’t treat me like an idiot any more.”

“no.” you say, so firmly that it actually takes him aback. “i’d be in more trouble than you if anyone–”

sunghoon laughs, laughs at how absurd this situation is. how he’s wished and prayed for a chance to have you this close and now all he can feel is rage. his hand flies up to your hair, tugging your head back – the startled noise you let out going straight to his stiffening cock. 

“you’re a slut, then? you let your fans use you so they keep coming back?” he pouts dramatically at you, before bearing his canines in a grin. “or are you hoping that we’ll leave you alone?”

the slope of your neck bobs with a gulp, his eyes tracking the movement. “i let you, because i like you.”

you watch his eyes flit rapidly over your face, searching desperately for any sign that you’re lying, playing him like a fool again. 

“bet you tell them all that.” he huffs, not buying it for a second. “bet they all fall for it too.”

“there is no–” you scrunch your face when his fist curls tighter in your hair, letting out a noise that sounds nothing like frustration or fear. he could almost think that you’re.. 

“hoon.” you say sternly, the nickname catching him off-guard. his heart would almost swell over it if he wasn’t so close to ripping your fucking hair out in jealousy. “there is nobody else. i’ve been texting you because i want to. i asked my guard to bring you here so i could see you. god, i blew you at an airport! i’ve never even..”

you sigh, exasperated, and the pieces finally slide into place for sunghoon. they click slowly, even reluctantly, since the circumstances really are this hard to believe. 

“you mean it?..” he mutters, fingers loosening in your strands. 

“yes, of course i do.” testing the waters, your palms run up his chest to hold his cheeks with a featherlight touch, and sunghoon melts into it. “i see you all the time, and i’ve always wanted to get to know you more. but what could i do? nothing from my position.”

you want love, just like him. you want him, just like he wants you. 

you don’t care about his intentions when he dragged you from your staff and locked you in a room. you don’t even care that he followed you all the way here from korea. you don’t give a single shit that he pays off your staff to provide him enough private info to warrant a lawsuit. 

“you want me?” 

“of course i do.” you echo, thumbs brushing tenderly across the pale of his cheek. 

he licks his lips, anticipation and something more sinister bubbling in his blood, heating up his body. “say it.” 

“i want you.” 

sunghoon nearly moans hearing it from your mouth, his cock filling out his pants eagerly. he gives another tug on your hair, and his suspicions are confirmed when you whine. you like the pain. or do you just like being treated this way?

“do you now?” he says nearly mockingly, swiping his thumb across the plush of your lip to contrast the sting. you respond keenly: lips sealing around his thumb, dabbing your tongue on the skin. sunghoon curses lowly, breath growing heavier, and when you start to suck he has to pull away.  

only to replace his hand with his mouth as he captures yours in a kiss. there’s no patience in it – one second in and already he needs more, tilting your head by the hair as he shoves his tongue in. licking against yours roughly, palate filling with your saliva, cock twitching as he tastes every corner of your mouth. 

you ball fists in his shirt, whimpering quietly at how harshly he’s kissing you, how he’ll slightly pull your hair like a reminder. you just take it, better yet – you give back. you slide your tongue with his, rolling your hips into his body and earning a bite on your lower lip. you whine from the shock and sunghoon parts with you, tutting. 

“you trying to piss me off?” he huffs out, stilling you by the waist with his free hand. you’re treading a fine fucking line of his self-control right now. if you’re not careful, he might really lose it. and he doesn’t want to hurt you – unless you want that. fuck. his cock pulses just considering it, and of course you felt it, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

“do your worst.” you tell him, intentionally bucking your pelvis forward to rub against his boner. he feels the heat of you even through the fabric, and sunghoon heaves a gasp, every nerve in his body screaming to throw you to the ground and just take you. 

there comes that fucking nickname again, “hoon”, needily whined against his earlobe – and you could hear a pin drop in the brief silence that follows, before his lips are smothering yours so desperately that his teeth scrape your gums, hands gripping impossibly tighter as he backs you into the closest wall. 

sunghoon nearly shoves your body against it, kindness forgotten with his brain tuned into one sole purpose. he kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, palm trailing down the side of your body, stopping only to grope your breast here or squeeze your curves there. if he wasn’t so fired up, he’d take his time with you. kiss every inch of your body and draw out the pleasure. his cock is begging him for otherwise though. 

he reaches a hand under this fucking skirt that’s burned into the deepest pit of his memories – and you moan in tandem when sunghoon’s fingers press into your panties, the fabric dipping where it’s soaked in your arousal. he has to remind himself to breathe as he runs his fingertips over the thin cotton, feeling each ridge from how it’s stuck to your cunt in arousal. 

he slides a finger past the soiled fabric, dipping into the hot arousal pooled at your hole. his length pulses where it’s pressed into the meat of your thigh. sucking in a breath, sunghoon trudges past his own need as he gathers your slick on his index and middle, dragging the fingers up your folds. you shiver when he grazes your clit, melting into the prettiest whine as his fingers draws digit eights on the bundle of nerves. 

with his hand focused on your clit, sunghoon busies his mouth when he latches it to your neck, smirk pressed into your skin with how you throb under his fingers in response. sunghoon runs his tongue over the juncture between your neck and shoulder, littering the skin with nips of his teeth and sucks of his mouth – leaving the mark of his presence in hickeys and bites. he laves at the salty sheen of sweat coating your body, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tastes you in yet another way. 

on that thought, he rotates his hand; thumb replacing the fingers on your clit with firm swipes, his index and middle breaching past your hole and curling up to make you see stars. 

you’re unintelligible as he fucks you on his fingers, head lolled back into the wall as he ravages the slope of your neck, clenching down so perfectly he damn nearly cums just wondering how it’d feel wrapped around his cock. 

“shit,” he groans as he presses particularly hard into your g-spot, feeling how tightly you wrapped around the digits as if on command. he rips his hand from your cunt suddenly, and you gasp at the sound of fabric tearing when he pulls your panties further to the side. 

sunghoon licks at his fingers just so he can taste you down there too, your slick sweet on his palate. though it only serves to snap the last shred of his resolve, and before either of you know it he’s ripping his pants open so quick that the button flies to the floor – cock bobbing free and pressed to your cunt within the next second.

sunghoon lets out a sob, vision whiting out from how unbelievable you feel against him: your hole twitching where he’s just barely pressing his tip, a mix of your arousal and his pre running down his length. he bucks his pelvis slightly, cock rubbing through your wet folds. his tip nudges your clit and you both just tremble.

it takes everything in him and then some to not just thrust in and pound you like a dog in heat. 

sunghoon tries to gather the words to ask for your permission, but all that leaves him is a hoarse exhale, cock pulsing where it’s buried between your folds. you snap him out of the daze when a hand comes to wraps around his bicep, preparing to ground yourself. 

“i want it in,” you ask so nicely, batting your lashes at the man heaving like a beast before you. “please?” 

that word singlehandedly airs out every thought left in his brain. sunghoon doesn’t even think, just acts as he snaps his pelvis and splits your pussy on his cock. one swift movement and he’s buried all the way in; balls pressed to your ass, body slumped against yours as you barely keep yourself upright. 

you’re both a mess, arms wrapping around each other as an anchor, bodies pressed so tight your heartbeats start to hammer as one. sunghoon grinds forward, soiling his balls in the dripping arousal as he attempts to gently stretch you out. for your comfort, and for his own dignity, so he doesn’t cum right the fuck now. he knows he should’ve prepped you more, but he might have died from blood loss if he didn’t give attention to his raging boner for any longer. 

although.. you’ve got a death grip around his cock. sunghoon usually jerks off hard and fast with a fist clenched so tight that it hurts, and still he can’t do anything but direct his own breathing as your cunt adjusts to his size. in and out, in and out.. 

fuck.

“fuck!” sunghoon cries out as he gives a quick thrust, barely even pulling out before sinking deeper, tip nudging your cervix as you gasp a moan. “f-fuck, fuck–” his hips stutter before they find a pace, bracing his hands on the wall behind as he drives his cock into you over and over. 

your knuckles turn white where they’re holding onto his back for dear life, he’s sure to find tracks of scratches across the muscles tomorrow. yet he can’t even feel the sting over your pussy sucking him in – perfect. so perfect in how you flutter around his length with each thrust, your pretty whimpers and cries as he rams into your g-spot every time.

“god– you..you’re taking it!”

you babble out something that might be a reply, trembling fingers reaching for his neck to hold his face close. his chest twists with pure love for you. everything he’s done in your name, it paid off. it surmounted to this. you let him in, and now he’ll give you his blood. 

“let me?” sunghoon pleads in a broken voice, hanging on by the thinnest thread as he pounds you into the wall, his lower belly coiled dangerously tight. he wants to cum inside you so bad. he wants to ruin you for anyone else. “let me, pleasepleaseplease–”

“yes, yes!” you plead right back, mouth falling open as he picks up to an animalistic speed. 

a few good thrusts later and sunghoon’s spilling inside you, pace undeterred as he focuses on fucking as deep as possible inside you. cockhead dribbling warm ropes of cum into the bump of your cervix. 

sunghoon slumps all of his weight onto yours as he chases his breaths, still nestled deep inside and groaning with each pulse of his cock. the comedown leaves him in some halfway point between heaven; bliss floating through his veins, a smile carved deep onto his lips. 

this time, he pinches himself to check – and when he blinks, it all stays right where it was. 

even in your state, you catch the gesture and breathe out a laugh, too exhausted to get the noise out. your knuckles run over his forearms, wondering when he’ll start to soften inside you. 

sunghoon starts to kiss your neck again, and you have the realisation that he intends to keep going. you push him off you gently, reaching down to slip his still-hard cock out. 

“as much as i don’t want to, i need to get back to work.” you remind him, your concert still very much looming on the evening. 

sunghoon grimaces like the fact personally offends him – though he’s not sulking for long as he watches you pull him out and then tug your underwear back in place with one quick motion, soiling the fabric as his cum stuffs your cunt. 

“i’m sorry about your spot,” you say, tenderly cupping his cheek and giving him soft eyes. “my staff know who you are now, and they could escort you to the private box?” 

sunghoon nods, smiling stretching even wider, flashing his canines. he doesn’t need to prove he’s not a threat – you know, and you don’t care. 

you brush your skirt down back into place. “i’ll see you after the send-off wraps up?” 

you don’t have to tell him where you’ll be. the place that your staff picked out for post-show dinner and drinks. he already paid to know that. and you’d know this too. 

but you don’t mention it as you leave him with a sweet kiss on the lips. in fact, he doesn’t think you ever will. 

—

sunghoon didn’t know he had this much love in his body. all the blood that keeps his heart beating isn’t close to enough for what he wishes to give to you. his girlfriend. his world famous, popstar, funny and talented and gorgeously perfect girlfriend. ever since he first called you that he just can’t stop saying it. 

sunghoon has a sort of notoriety now within his community of your fandom. he went silent following the infamous airport stunt and the guard pulling him from the sydney pit – and a few photos with someone resembling him at the after-show dinner had made the rounds around fans with insider connections. it was all kept very hush-hush, hadn’t made it to any outlets thank god. out of jealousy, he assumes. he made it and they didn’t. 

you’ve fully opened yourselves to each other, much like normal couples do. he promised to leave that life behind for good, and feels immense shame for everything he did leading up to dating you. 

and, cross his heart, he does. but after years of chasing this exact goal, he can’t but feel a thousandfold more obsessed with you. his girlfriend. you’re still his entire purpose in life. he gave up everyone else in his life who wasn’t you, so when you’re too busy with work to listen to him ranting on and on about how much he adores you, who else is he meant to turn to?

Anonymous posted: We all know that y/n’s been dating lately. With the way she limps on stage, I bet she lets her boyfriend fuck her right before she goes on. He cums inside her, stuffs her full and puts her panties right back on so it’s all sealed tight inside. Performing and dancing around for the crowd with her man’s cum still hot in her pussy. 

smooothoperator: shit that sounds so hot

heesung64: I’d kill to be her boyfriend and do that everyday

doggystyle02: fuck you i know exactly who this is. fuck off and die

when his best friend told him his only child would be coming over, he didn’t think that much of it. your father divorced his wife about three years ago, and mingyu got to meet him not long after he moved into quite the estate at the most wealthy part of the countryside, which happened to be very close to his own home.

you, his daughter, were always too busy to visit, away at college, barely even coming home for the weekends — and when you did, you usually went over to your mother’s house. it’s not like you and your father aren’t close, just that you’re closer to your mom.

but now, your parents have suddenly decided they want to try and see if their relationship can work again. with you having nearly a whole academic year off until you start your master’s, you’re planning to live with them for a while, meaning the three of you will be living in your father’s estate.

which brings you to your current situation — you, smiling at something your mother says to you, and mingyu watching you from afar. the market is as crowded as it usually tends to get on the countryside, and he’s pretty sure he’s heard some people greeting him in the distance, but he can’t tear his focus away from you.

god, you’re gorgeous. a smile that lights up the room, a pretty little dress that might as well be tailored to your body, your hair gleaming under the sun.

his best friend suddenly recognizes him, gesturing for him to come over.

from your spot by one of the vendors, you catch sight of him approaching you, and something about him sends a shiver down your spine.

he introduces himself to you as kim mingyu. aside from the fact that he’s unnecessarily handsome, with that long dark hair and chiseled jaw, he walks around with a certain confidence you don’t often find in people. charming but doesn’t overdo it, holds his head high without being arrogant, uses his strong hands for gentle touches.

not to mention his sense of style. a white dress shirt, rolled-up sleeves, an expensive watch sitting on his wrist and a silver ring shining on his index finger.

you quickly come to the conclusion that your father’s best friend is sex on a stick. he gazes at you with parted lips, a subtle smile playing on them when he realizes you’re looking him up and down, and it has heat rushing to your cheeks.

it’s your entirely oblivious father who speaks up first. “took her a while to come visit with university always getting in the way, but now she’s finally here for a while. did i tell you she graduated magna cumme laude?”

“dad, you know you don’t have to say that to everyone, right?” you chuckle, averting your eyes, and he teasingly puts his hand on your shoulder.

“well, since you’re not doing it, i’ll have to do it for you. you agree, don’t you, mingyu?”

“certainly. takes hard work to pull something like that off.” he nods, locking eyes with you. “if anything, you should be bragging about it.”

you tilt your head. “and here i thought i was being humble.”

mingyu thinks he might be intoxicated by the sight of you. he follows every move you make like a hawk.

he’s never been one to look at women who are far apart in terms of age. even now, he usually doesn’t — but you just might be the exception to the rule. an exception that makes him feel like a pervert. what the hell is he doing at this age, looking at someone as young as you?

frankly, he’s not sure. but there’s something so different about you.

much to his pleasure, you continue your conversation with him even after your father has walked off to take a call. “so, what brings you here today?”

“i’m shopping. gotta get my hands on a birthday gift. something involving dinosaurs, if they’re selling that here.”

“dinosaurs?” you raise a brow, at which he chuckles.

“it’s for my son’s birthday. he’s been obsessed with ‘em for years. already going around telling people he’s gonna study biology when he’s older.”

fuck, you think to yourself. so that must mean he’s taken, even if you don’t see a gold ring on his finger.

then again, what chance did you think you had with a man like that, anyway?

“i’m pretty sure i saw some books in the sale section he might like.” you smile politely, hiding your reaction. “i’m assuming you’re married, then?”

but to your surprise, he shakes his head. “divorced, actually.”

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine. it wasn’t a nasty divorce, we’re on better terms now than we were before it happened. it’s been a couple years, all three of us are happier this way.”

fair enough. “does your son live with you?”

“no, with his mom. but i call him often, and he comes over most weekends.”

you nod in understanding, and before you can give an actual response, he needs to clear the situation, because for some reason he just has to let you know he’s single.

“anyways, i’ve been by myself for a couple years now. so was your father, up until about two months ago.” he smiles. “is that weird? having your parents try again?”

with a shrug, you answer, “a bit. though i always figured it was more of a break than an actual divorce. we’ll see how it turns out, i guess.”

the perfect opportunity to insert the question he’s been dying to ask.

“and you? got a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

“no, i don’t.”

that single reply has his heart racing in his chest.

mingyu subtly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. his eyes are focused on your bare legs, travelling upwards before he can comprehend he’s shamelessly oggling you.

just when you’re about to say something else to him, your father beckons to you, and you give him that gorgeous smile again. “duty calls. it was nice to meet you, mr. kim.”

“call me mingyu. and likewise. i’ll go check out those books you mentioned.”

taking a last look at him, you eventually almost have to force yourself to turn around and go over to your father.

mingyu is unable to get you out of his mind that day. you’re all that’s lingering in his head when he buys that dinosaur book at the store, when he cooks his dinner, when he’s showering, when the lights are off and he’s tossing and turning in bed.

what the hell kind of impression did you leave on him? he’s pretty sure you’ll be showing up in his dreams too, if he finally manages to fall asleep at some point.

not that he wouldn’t want you to.

funnily enough, you both go to bed with the wish to see each other again as soon as possible, and mingyu makes sure to be a part of your new everyday life in the days that follow.

days turn into weeks, and before you know it, two months have passed by.

both of you have developed a sickeningly annoying crush on each other. mingyu, being your father’s best friend, is over at the house rather frequently, and naturally your mother’s taken a liking towards him as well.

shared dinners, game nights, events in town — there’s suddenly a lot tying you together, which means you see him at least several times a week.

you’ve grown to feel comfortable in his presence, since you get along so well, though the hairs on your arms certainly still stand upright when he walks into the room.

and if you’ve learned one thing, it’s that mingyu is one smooth fucker. charming, always says the right thing, well-liked. but you find you like him especially when he loses his composure.

the first time it happened was when it’d rained and you had to walk past him, push-up bra entirely visible through your soaked shirt. you remember how red his cheeks got — and how much you liked the attention from him.

it pushes you to accidentally show him a peek into your cleavage or under your skirt from time to time, and you feel accomplished at the sight of his breath hitching in his throat for a second before he pulls himself together.

mingyu has secretly already had to get himself off several times after getting bricked up from the sight of you.

he’s starting to pick up on things in the remarkably short time since your first meeting — your go-to coffee order, your favorite books, the change in your tone when you speak to someone you don’t like all that much. a tone you never use with him, of course.

no, mingyu knows you like his company. but even with his good looks, there’s a certain insecurity that comes with age, making him hesitant to assume you’re just as into him as he’s into you.

and fuck is he into you.

obviously he greatly enjoys your parents’ company — but you’re the main reason he’s over at their home so often.

tonight is no different. the four of you had dinner, you went upstairs to wash up about an hour ago, leaving him to assume you must be tired.

as mingyu pours some wine into three glasses, he looks through the kitchen window to find a car approaching.

your mother sighs as she cuts into some cheese next to him. “my daughter has many strong suits, but time management is not one of them.”

“she’s heading out?”

“yeah, she’s going on a date tonight.”

the wine bottle almost slips from his hand at the mention of it. “a date? with who?”

“william’s son. you know him, he lives down the block.”

yeah, mingyu knows the kid. he also knows you don’t belong with a guy like that at all, he’d never make you happy. way too full of himself.

“since when does she even like him?” mingyu chokes out, trying not to sound as unnerved as he is by the whole ordeal. “she told me she’d rejected him at first.”

your mother shrugs. “no idea. i’m assuming something must’ve changed her mind. god, is she just gonna let that boy wait out there the whole time? i’ll open the door.”

mingyu considers telling her to leave the kid outside, but chooses the more socially acceptable thing to do instead. “no, you’ve got your hands full. i’ll handle it.”

he sets down the bottle of wine, heading out to the front door, giving a somewhat unsettling smile to the guy standing before him.

“mr. kim! it’s been a while.” he greets, and mingyu narrows his eyes, subtly looking him up and down.

“yeah. so, you got a hot date tonight?”

“would seem so.”

“where are you headed?”

the guy mistakes the casual tone of questioning for a positive one. “we’re just gonna have some dinner in the city, see where the night takes us.”

mingyu pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. he didn’t like that sentence at all. he doesn’t like this guy.

with a fake chuckle, he nods, taking a step closer to him. “you touch her in a way she doesn’t like, and i’ll be the one at your doorstep. understand, kid?” he asks, attitude completely controlled despite the threatening tone.

the young man in front of him swallows. “yeah—yeah, of course.”

“good. you go on and wait by the car, i’ll go see if she’s ready.” mingyu gestures for him to get out of his sight as if he’s some child, and right at that moment, he hears you rushing down the stairs.

and to say you look stunning in that velvety red dress would be an understatement. your hair bounces with every step, the smell of your perfume floods his senses, and he realizes that this might be the first time ever he’s jealous of some asshole more than a decade younger than him solely for having the privilege of being your date.

“you’re gorgeous.” he breathes out, and you’re taken aback by his comment, and he suddenly realizes what he said. “you look... gorgeous. in that dress.”

a sweet chuckle escapes you. “thanks. what’s up with him? he looks scared.”

now that your date is the topic of conversation, his tone sours. “perhaps he has a good reason to be.”

the guy is out of earshot anyway, so you frown at mingyu, quickly able to see through that facade he’s putting up. “what did you say to him?”

he shrugs. “nothing special.”

“mingyu.”

“i just—i mean, look at you, sweetheart. i don’t want him to get his grimy little hands all over you. if—if you don’t want him to, of course.”

the bursting of your chest that you should probably be feeling for your date flares up in mingyu’s presence. your heart is racing at the way he indirectly complimented you, and you wish you could just tell your date to fuck off and have this much more handsome older man instead.

but you can’t.

“i can take care of myself, y’know.”

“i don’t doubt it.”

for a brief moment, you forget someone’s waiting for you. how could you not? mingyu looks at you as if you’re some saint walking among men, and you’re starting to pick up on it more with every moment you spend in his presence.

with a hushed tone, you feel like testing him. “what if he did put his hands on me? would you rough him up?”

“i’d do a little more than that.” he whispers back, wishing he could just press you up against this door and kiss you. “whatever you want me to do to him, i’ll do it.”

you nod at him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, your lips remaining there a few seconds longer than necessary. “thank you.”

his pupils are nearly completely dilated by the time you’ve pulled back, and he watches you walk towards the car with half-lidded eyes, immediately grimacing when your date doesn’t even open the door to the passenger’s seat for you.

christ, what an idiot. he’s a little prick, that kid — a product of rich parents endlessly spoiling their only son.

now, mingyu wouldn’t call himself perfect. far from it actually. but at least he has good manners. he’d treat you so much better.

mingyu waits in his spot, seeing the car roll down the driveway until it’s out of his sight, and he closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath before returning to your parents in the kitchen.

“and? what’s the verdict?” your mother asks, at which he chuckles.

“well, i doubt you’re gonna get a son-in-law anytime soon.”

he considers offering himself as a better suited candidate instead.

unfortunately, mingyu made the mistake of thinking you wouldn’t go on another date with the boy.

it’s not like you had a great time — but it wasn’t horrible, either. he asks to be your boyfriend several dates later, and you’re not sure why, but you agree to it.

it might be out of sheer boredom, and you’re in the mood to shake things up a little. at the same time, it’s mingyu who still continues to occupy your mind all day, yet you doubt anything will ever happen between you and him, even though you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more.

mingyu has to put in effort to hide his distaste of you and your new boyfriend together. the guy is constantly trying to snatch you from his grip, and he’s beginning to think it’s out of either insecurity or jealousy — maybe even both.

truthfully, you enjoy having a man a bit possessive over you. a hand on your hip, an arm around your waist.

when mingyu touches you like that, it feels good. right. you’d love nothing more than to lean into it, against his chest and remain in his hold.

but your boyfriend’s grip is overbearing. it’s unnatural, too warm, not allowing you to breathe. not to mention he doesn’t seem to be possessive out of pride over getting to call you his girlfriend or anything remotely positive for that matter — he seems insecure. it’s written all over his body language.

to be fair, he’s right to be. you don’t even like him. yeah, you want someone that’s not him. he’s nothing but a distraction you plan to throw away at some point.

but fuck, aren’t you allowed to be human? don’t you yearn and ache? and wish to be fucked stupid by someone almost twice your age?

yeah, the reasoning is terrible, but all logical arguments are thrown out of the window whenever your eyes lock with mingyu’s.

and if your dad’s best friend didn’t see the clear disconnect between you and your boyfriend before, he sure does now.

your birthday rolls around the corner about a month and a half later. a short time to be dating, really, and that’s what you force yourself to blame your boyfriend’s bad choice of gift on.

two books — that you’ve already read. which could’ve been an honest mistake, had you not mentioned those two books as some of your all-time favorites before, and pointed them out on the wooden plank in your room.

you give a fake smile, pushing out a thank you, but mingyu knows better. he can’t fathom how your boyfriend would fall for the act, or why the guy didn’t come up with a better present.

mingyu chooses to hand you his gift in private, when you’re alone in the living room together.

you take the still wrapped box with a tilt of your head. “you know you didn’t have to get me something, right?”

“what kind of man would i be if i didn’t get my favorite girl a gift for her birthday?”

my favorite girl. the words almost have your brain short-cutting.

unwrapping the gift, you open the small box to discover a gold, medallion necklace inside. when you look at it in awe, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip for a moment before speaking up. “you mentioned wanting one. if it’s not the design you were looking for—”

“it’s beautiful. but this—this must’ve been so expensive.”

“i have a goldsmith in the family, so i got it for a good price. and it was worth every penny.” the corner of his mouth curls up. “i hope you like it.”

god, it’s stunning. the design is detailed, the length of the necklace is exactly what you were hoping to get someday. but more importantly, he paid attention to what you were saying even in small moments — you think you mentioned wanting a medallion once or twice, to your mother, when mingyu was talking to your father at the other side of the room. and he still remembered.

now he’s here with you, gesturing for you to lift your hair so he can put it on, his fingers brushing past the back of your neck. with the clasp locked in place, you turn around to look in the mirror, finding the hanger sits just below your collarbone.

“it’s perfect. thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” he responds with a gentle smile, and you lean in to give him a hug, getting him to wrap his arms around you.

his touch is electric. even once he’s let you go, it’s like you can still feel his handprints burning on your skin.

in the following days, whenever people ask about the pretty necklace, you proudly show it off, and you don’t miss the way your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise when you tell him it’s from mingyu.

but he chooses not to dwell on it. he definitely tries not to think about it when he’s inside you and you’re completely naked, except for that damn necklace that the much older man gave you. the same older man who keeps his hands on you every chance he gets — the man who’s clearly threatening your relationship.

in your boyfriend’s defense, it’s not like he’s aware you only got with him to keep mingyu out of your thoughts.

but the latter feels the need to talk to you about that idiot you call your boyfriend.

a week later, after a brief visit to your friends in the city, it’s him who picks you up from the train station. something about your father being busy and mingyu stepping up like the good friend he is.

“y’know, i’ve been thinking.” he starts out, his left hand comfortably resting on the steering wheel, only to be met with a witty remark from you.

“that must’ve been hard for you, old man.”

“hilarious. really.” his deadpan stare quickly fades away when you chuckle in response. “anyway, as i was saying — i’m wondering what the hell you’re doing with william’s son.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, the kid clearly likes you,” he says, “but you don’t like him.”

“how do you know that?”

“i’d have to be blind not to notice.”

you only sigh. is it really that obvious?

“so what’s going on, sweetheart? why’re you hanging out with him?”

sometimes, mingyu has moments where he acts more like a caretaker than a friend. like a father.

as problematic as it might sound, you like it when he behaves like that from time to time. it’s subtle, not overbearing — something that should feel wrong but doesn’t in the slightest.

“because—ugh, forget it.” because it’s the only way to drown out what you really want. who you really want.

“no, tell me.”

“i just..." you trail off, trying to tell him part of the truth without giving everything away, “isn’t love something you need to grow into?”

“if he doesn’t leave an impression on you of any kind, it’s enough of a sign that it’s not gonna happen in the future, don’t you think?”

“i guess.”

“you don’t sound convinced.”

the questioning suddenly gets on your nerves, since you’re realizing he’s able to call your bullshit from a mile away, but you can’t exactly tell him the truth either. “look, sometimes you just need a distraction. at least he gives me that.”

mingyu stays quiet for a moment.

then he laughs. “and you chose him for that? does he even know what he’s doing with you? assuming that’s what we’re talking about here.”

“it’s fine. he’s fine.”

“fine equals mediocre. you’re not mediocre. so why are you with him, of all people?”

“mingyu, i worked my ass off to graduate in the way that i did. i put academics above everything, and don’t get me wrong, i’m glad that i did and i’d do it again — but it also means i barely had a social life, and i was constantly stressed, and i just—someone offered to relieve all of that and i took it. alright? it doesn’t need to be groundbreaking.”

obviously you didn’t need a boyfriend. hell, you didn’t even want one. but barely having sex in several years time has left you pent up, so all you really wanted was someone to be friends with benefits with, but that simply didn’t end up happening.

then mingyu suddenly came along a few months ago, and you don’t want him solely because you think he’d be great in bed — you actually like the man. but you can’t have him. so on top of your need to have sex, you also want someone to distract you, and that is all your current boyfriend is good for.

though he’s been doing a shitty job at it so far. if anything, whenever your boyfriend is on top of you, you think of mingyu being much bigger than him, in every way possible, undoubtedly.

mingyu stares into nothing when he comes up with the invasive question. “does he at least make you feel good? comfortable?”

“did you seriously just ask me about my sex life?”

“is that a no?”

“it’s—as i said before, it’s fine.”

just hearing you stutter out the response is enough of a sign for him to draw a conclusion. “that’s a real shame, sweetheart.”

“why are you acting like he’s treating me horribly?”

“because it sounds to me that he is.” he retorts sharply. “he doesn’t satisfy you, nor do you like him — which makes sense, given the fact that the dude’s a prick — so what reason could you possibly have for staying with him?”

avoiding the question, you shrug. “so you think i should break up with him?”

“i think you should do what you want.” he answers casually. “if that means breaking up with him and getting with someone better, so be it.”

“you act as if i’ve got another man waiting for me.”

“don’t you?”

you’re both talking around it. he’s tracing the top of the steering wheel with his finger, you’re pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

sooner or later, one of you will have to break.

“all i’m saying is that… with the looks and brains you’ve got, you could get anyone you wanted, sweetheart.” he breathes out, and he looks at you like he means it.

for a moment, you really consider asking if that includes him, too — but it seems you’ve arrived at your destination, so you swallow your words and bottle them up.

as you’re undoing your seatbelt, he offers a last sentiment. “think about it. that’s all i’m saying.”

with a nod, you get out of the car.

the tolerance you have for your boyfriend gets lower each day, but it seems you’ve finally hit a breaking point.

all you wanted was a fun night out at a local bar, and it was good for an hour or two, until one of your newly made friends from the neighborhood threw in a comment she probably shouldn’t have.

“there’s practically zero hot guys here — not our age, anyway.” she’d jokingly said, pointing at you with a drunken smile, “y’know, you’re lucky to have kim mingyu as your neighbor for the time being.”

“am i?”

“c’mon, you gotta admit it. he’s sexy.”

despite your initial hesitation to admit it out loud, you ended up with the same smile on your face as you agreed with her. “yeah, he is.”

unfortunately, it turned out that your boyfriend heard the coversation when you both thought he was out of earshot. the mood soured instantly once he tried to confront you about it, so you left your friends to go home, with your boyfriend spewing out all of his thoughts as he escorts you back.

perhaps you’d give a shit about the whiny complaints coming out of his mouth if you were sober, or if you even remotely liked him — but neither is the case.

“do you even care about this? about us?” he asks, waving with his hands while you walk with your bike beside you and visible annoyance on your face.

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “can we not talk about this when everything’s spinning?”

but he’s too deep in his drunken honesty to listen to you. “i knew something was off. y’know what? maybe you should just go get your rocks off with someone else.”

with a huff, you roll your eyes. “you’re exaggerating.”

“no, i’m not. wanna know something? that fucker mingyu would just love to get his hands all over you. he’s always judging me and shit, his fuckin’ paws at your waist every chance he gets.”

“bullshit.”

“you’re not blind. maybe your parents are, but you’re not. unless you’re enjoying the attention he’s giving you.”

now that his words are getting on your nerves, you’re able to find some clarity in the midst of your clouded judgement. “maybe you should stop focusing on him so much.”

“c’mon. tell me, you also believe he wants to fuck you, right? it’s a yes or no question.”

“i’m not having this conversation with you—”

it’s as if it finally clicks for your boyfriend. he previously thought mingyu’s affection for you was mostly one-sided, but now he’s not so sure anymore.

“do you wanna fuck him?”

“you did not just ask me that.”

“he’s almost twice your age. he could’ve been your father!”

it takes every fibre of your being not to say that the age gap secretly excites you.

stopping in your tracks, you finally look him in the eye. “i’m sick of this. sick of you. we’re over. i’m gonna go home, and you should too. try not to trip over your own feet on the way back.”

before he can even push a protest out of his mouth, you’ve already turned your head and gotten on your bike to get away from him as fast as possible, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

cycling goes remarkably well in spite of the many drinks you’ve consumed in such little time — at least until you accidentally hit a shard of glass with your front wheel.

with the tire quickly getting completely flat, you’re forced to walk, squinting when you look around.

it’s fucking creepy around here at night, you find. not nearly enough lanterns to light the whole road, the swaying of the tall grass in the wind, the suddenly overwhelming darkness — it makes you speed up to the first house you see.

which, coincidentally, belongs to your favorite neighbor.

it seems unnecessary to knock on his door, since he’s standing in the driveway to fix a lamp. dropping your bike in a cartoonish manner, you leave it at the gate, walking over to his front door.

with a big frown set into his forehead, he watches you approach him.

“what’re you doing?” you ask casually, mood instantly lifted in his presence.

“i’m fixing the light. what are you doing?”

“oh my god, i just—” you slur your words, “i was just thinking about you. and now you’re here!”

“are you drunk?” he asks the question as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

he’s met with a giggle from you. “no! no. look, gyu, my bike broke down. can you help me, like, patch up my tire? i think a piece of glass fucked it up or something.”

the new nickname has him swallowing, but the situation at hand is of much more importance to him right now. “your—your bike? wait, you were cycling? on your own? at this time of night?”

“yeah. i just… didn’t wanna burden my friends, y’know.”

a sigh escapes him. the roads here are barely lit. he might as well buy you a damn car so you can travel safer next time. then again, you probably chose not to go by car so you could have a drink tonight.

fucking hell. even if he did agree to fixing up your bike, you can hardly keep yourself standing upright in his doorway, and he doesn’t like the idea of you cycling home alone.

so he suggests something he probably shouldn’t — for the sake of his own sanity, anyways.

“it’s late, sweetheart. you know i’d fix that up for you any time of day, but you gotta sober up first, and god knows how long that’s gonna take. not to mention i also drank tonight so driving wouldn’t be wise — just spend the night here and i’ll take you home in the morning. give me a second to get the guest room ready.”

the idea of sleeping in the same house as him has excitement bubbling in your gut. with anyone else, you wouldn’t have agreed so quickly, but this is what you’ve secretly wanted for months. “okay.”

“c’mon.” he gestures for you to get inside, and you stumble through the large entrance with his big hand sitting on your lower back.

“what were you drinking? i could go for another glass.”

“absolutely not. you’re more than welcome to join me for a drink another time, but not today.”

the idea of him sitting on his couch with a glass of scotch and an undone button-up has your cheeks heating up. biting your lip, you let him guide you up the staircase, into a bedroom that might be three times the size of the dorm room you’ve become used to.

closing the door behind you, he asks, “what did you drink, anyway?”

you give him an exaggerated sigh. “you know how everyone says you shouldn’t mix beer and wine?”

mingyu nods, and a quick look at your face tells him enough. “you did it anyways, didn’t you?”

“yeah,” you giggle again, and he smiles, “what can i say? i like my rules how i like my glow sticks. and egg yolks. broken, i mean.”

“what kind of psychopath are you that you prefer broken egg yolks?”

“that is so not the point.” you tell him with attitude, slightly caught off-guard when he takes you into the connecting bathroom, turning you around to put his hands on your hips.

he lifts you up to sit on the edge of the counter, your feet dangling above the floor. reaching into one of the drawers beside your head, his face gets awfully close to yours as he gets a fresh, unused toothbrush for you, proceeding to put some paste on the perfectly aligned bristles.

nudging it toward your mouth, he’s got one hand sitting gently on your jaw to hold your face steady, and you instinctively do as he wants you to, opening your mouth.

tilting your head back, he brushes your teeth, eventually telling you to spit out the paste in the sink as he gets you a cup of water to rinse.

once you’re done, he wipes the last bit of toothpaste from your bottom lip, thumb sitting there a little longer than it needs to.

“i like it when you do that. act all… y’know.”

“what?”

“fatherly. yeah, that’s the word.”

“do you, sweetheart?”

“yeah. ‘m fond of you. so is everyone else, but i mean—” you chuckle sheepishly, “me? i like you way more.”

“i know you do.” he tucks your hair behind your ear, having to suppress the urge to kiss you. “i like you too. a lot more than that idiot boyfriend of yours does.”

you allow him to take you off the counter and set you on the floor. he doesn’t need to know you and your boyfriend broke up just yet. you like him when he’s acting jealous.

fuck, he tells himself to quit staring at you. he needs to get the hell out of here, or you’re gonna notice he can’t stop gawking at you in your little dress.

scratching his throat, he points to the wooden closet by the door.

“i got you some clothes for the night and tomorrow. if they don’t fit, let me know, and i’ll get you something else.”

you hold him back from walking out of the room. “could you, um... unzip my dress? i don’t want my hair to get stuck in it.”

it’s a risky move. you almost regret the question when seeing the breath hitching in his throat, but then he gestures for you to turn around, sending a shiver down your spine.

mingyu puts his hands on your hips, taking his time on purpose. you kind of admire him for it.

moving your hair out of the way, he takes hold of the zipper between his thumb and index finger, slowly pulling it down to your lower back to bask in this moment as much as possible.

he mentally prepares himself to be met with the clasp of some bra he’ll probably never have the pleasure of removing — only to find nothing.

the knowledge that you’re not wearing anything under that dress except for some panties has him going insane. the worst thing is that you and him are the only people in this house tonight, away from your boyfriend and your parents. away from everyone who shouldn’t see the way he looks at you.

fuck, he could pull that dress down and bend you over right here and now and none of them would know about it.

maybe, just maybe, he’d press his growing erection against your ass if you were sober. maybe he’d confess how much he’s been thinking about you, day and night.

but with your clouded state of mind, he chooses not to.

releasing the zipper, his fingers brush past your bare skin for a split second before taking a step away from you.

you don’t even see his inner turmoil when you tell him, “thank you.”

“you’re welcome. now get some sleep — i’ll treat you to a good breakfast in the morning.” he winks, heading to the door, and you chuckle. he closes the door to your room shortly after.

when he gets into his own bed, he’s still hard as a rock. his cock slaps against his stomach once he’s pushed his boxers down. you’re driving him crazy. just the mere image of your curves have his eyes rolling back in his skull.

bucking his hips, he thinks about you. what you’d look like on top of him, under him, what you’d sound like. he fantasizes about you walking through the hall naked, coming into his room and sucking him off.

god, it gets an orgasm out of him embarrassingly quick.

the feeling of wanting you, as always, doesn’t fade in the slightest as he swiftly cleans himself up in his bathroom.

the following morning, you feel like shit. blurry memories of your behavior from last night come rushing in, and if you had the energy for it, you’d probably throw yourself from the balcony out of embarrassment.

you push yourself out of bed, heading into the bathroom to stare at your mess of a reflection. to be fair, the slightly smudged eye makeup doesn’t look all that bad despite having slept in it, but still.

reaching out for the toothbrush, you suddenly recall that little moment of mingyu putting you on the counter and what you said to him — oh, jesus.

you need to get the fuck out of here.

after brushing your teeth, you gather your things and walk down the entirely unfamiliar hall. if you thought your dad’s house was big, mingyu’s home might as well be the cherry on top. it’s all expensive with its tall ceilings and unique art pieces framed on the walls, and you have to admit that he’s got good taste.

as if he heard you pass his room, he opens the door, standing there in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower.

“good, you’re awake.” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “feeling up for some eggs?”

with a mere nod of an answer, he gestures for you to follow him to the kitchen.

with a yawn, you try to come up with a good excuse for whatever it was that made you as bold as you were last night.

he doesn’t let you. “did you sleep well?”

“yeah. look, you don’t need to make me breakfast, i’ve overstayed my welcome—”

“hey, i promised i would make you breakfast. and you’re always welcome here. so sit, have a cup of coffee, and i’ll take you home after.”

all he gets in response is a grumbled ‘fine’.

while pouring a bit of olive oil into the pan, he asks, “what’s the story behind last night? why were you going home alone?”

“my boyfriend was supposed to take me home, but… i guess i kind of ruined his good mood by breaking up with him.”

mingyu’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “wait—why’d you break up with him?”

“i thought you wanted me to.”

“i did, but since you seemed so hellbent on keeping him around, i didn’t think you were going to.”

“yeah, well, things change.”

“fair enough. good on you for dropping the dead weight.”

his comment makes you chuckle. “he kinda threw a fit about it, probably only ‘cause my friends had already gone home. god, he was angry.”

“my offer to rough him up still stands, by the way.”

scoffing, you mutter to yourself, “ironic.”

“what is?” mingyu asks, since he heard it nonetheless.

you shrug, choosing not to use the same words your boyfriend did. “oh, it’s nothing. he brought you up. said something about you being too possessive over me.”

“and what did you tell him?”

“that he needed to fuck off.”

he snorts, grabbing two plates. “and he actually did?”

“not like he had much of a choice. i just left him there. told him to go home.”

“i’d pay to see his face when you told him that.” mingyu laughs. “sounds to me like you have a reason for celebration.”

“i guess so.”

he puts the plate with eggs on toast in front of you, a devilish smile plastered on his face. “your favorite, as i’ve heard from a highly reliable source.”

digging your cutlery into the broken egg yolk, you roll your eyes. “cut me some slack, will you?”

all he can do is nod with a big grin before starting with his own plate.

the same morning, your ex-boyfriend is standing before the front door of your parents’ house. he rings the doorbell, the apology he’s rehearsed during the drive here stuck in his head, and your mother opens the door.

when he tells her he’s come to talk to you, she informs him that you’re not here, and that you stayed over at a friend’s house. you apparently didn’t even mention the breakup to her, so she’s entirely unaware of what happened last night.

but your ex is confused, because he talked to your friends this morning and asked them if they heard anything from you, to which they answered no. they didn’t know you guys broke up either.

it stirs something in his gut. where the fuck are you? if you didn’t stay at a friend’s house, where did you sleep?

it’s those two questions that continue to run through his head. getting back in his car, he plans to drive back home. who knows, you might’ve gone to his house.

but about ten minutes later, he steps on the brake with force.

your bike. by mingyu’s driveway.

either he missed it on the way to your house or you just arrived at his place. regardless, both scenarios suck for him. he acted out of line, and now he’s sent you straight into mingyu’s arms, probably.

he calls your phone. you don’t pick up. it gets him frustrated.

but he figures he’ll try again later. it’s not like he can just go and knock on the door, so he drives off, not sure whether to be angrier at you or himself.

after you’ve finished breakfast, mingyu fixes up your bike in no-time. instead of letting you cycle home by yourself, he puts the bike in the trunk and gestures for you to get in the passenger’s seat.

“gyu, i can get home by myself. it’s daytime outside.”

“i know, i know. but i gotta go get groceries anyways, so i’ll take you.”

arguing with him is useless sometimes. you roll your eyes in disapproval, but still get in the car, at which he smirks. he barely needs to get groceries — he just wants to spend time with you.

the drive is too short to talk about what happened between you and him last night. the things you said, how turned on he clearly was. your voice seems lost on you.

so you make it back to your parents’ house, where he takes the bike out of the car again, and you press your lips into a thin line. “thank you again, for… everything, really.”

“it’s no problem. you’re nice when you’re drunk, y’know?”

“oh my god.” you snort, burying your face in your hands.

“so nice that you told me you like me way better than everyone else. you remember that?”

frankly, you’re not sure whether to look him in the eye or lower your head in shame. “i may have said something along those lines.”

“well, i like you a lot more than everyone else, too.” he says, fully aware he’s stepping much deeper into dangerous territory than he should. you’re forbidden fruit — yet he can’t help it. “get some rest. i’ll see you later, angel.”

not even waiting for a rebuttal of any kind, he gives you a last glance that reeks of pride before getting back into his expensive car, leaving you to wonder what your relationship with him even is at this point.

by the time you’ve turned around, your mother is leaning against the post of the front door. “so. the romance was short-lived, huh?”

“how do you know that?”

“he came by this morning. seemed embarrassed to even talk to me. i know what a boy trying to make amends looks like.”

“well, sucks for him.” you shrug, really not giving a shit.

“where did you sleep last night?”

lying through your teeth comes remarkably easy. “a friend’s house.”

“how did you end up in mingyu’s car?”

“the tire of my bike went flat. he fixed it up. offered to take me home just in case.”

jesus, just talking about him makes you feel hot. it’s like you’re burning up. you quickly manage to get away from your mother’s prying eyes before she can catch onto the truth — and once you’re upstairs, you can’t stop staring at your reflection in the mirror.

you’re wearing his clothes, and even if you’d take them all off, the necklace he gave you would still be there.

constantly touching your skin.

mingyu is like a drug — addictive, leaving a lasting effect. you can’t seem to get him out of your system, no matter what.

the rude awakening from your train of thoughts comes in the form of a phone call. just seeing the name of your ex on screen is enough to get a huff of annoyance out of you, but you decide to take the call.

“what do you want?” you ask, already done with the conversation before it’s even started.

said conversation is messy. your ex is angry at you for going to mingyu’s place, you shift the blame onto him for leaving you to go home alone in the middle of the night — not that you would’ve let him guide you home, probably — after which he turns apologetic, but you tell him you don’t care. he wants to get back together, but you don’t.

it’s you who ends the call. you assume he’s taken the hint, and things are quiet in the days that follow. your daily life seems to be back to the way it was before the break-up, just without a boyfriend.

and now that it’s over, you’re inclined to agree with mingyu. your ex was mediocre.

given the not-so-friendly breakup, you figured the phone call would be the last time you heard from your ex. but it appears that despite the lack of depth in the very brief relationship you had with him, he’s still upset at the way things ended between you.

not long after the breakup, there’s a charity fundraiser being held in town, followed by drinks at mingyu’s house. the halls you recognize from the night you slept over are now filled with groups of people chattering, laughing and drinking the night away.

right as he’s asked you if he can get you a drink, you get a text message from your ex.

the clear frown on your forehead almost has mingyu worried. “everything okay?”

“yeah, um—i gotta go handle something. i’ll be right back.” you answer, walking through the hallway to get to the front door.

it’s quiet on the driveway, save for the sounds of the party muffled in the background and the annoying asshole you just can’t seem to get rid of. the gravel crunches underneath your feet as you walk over to him. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

to be fair, it’s not like he wasn’t invited. he’s been smart to keep his distance from you — until now, anyway. “wanted to see you.”

fucking hell, he looks pathetic. almost falling over, a nearly empty bottle of liquor in hand, all drowsy. you shake your head. “no, i’m not doing this with you. you’re drunk. not that i’d wanna talk to you if you were sober.”

like the spoilt asshole he is, he gets angry when things don’t go his way. “we need to talk it out. i didn’t even wanna break up—”

“no, but i did. what you want is the last of my concerns.”

you glare at him, turning around to go back inside, but he pulls at your wrist, hoping you’ll see eye to eye with him. “just listen to me!”

“no, just—let go!” you tell him, pulling your arm out of his hold, which has him accidentally dropping the liquor bottle on the gravel, causing it to break.

as you look at him in shock, he seems more concerned with the fact that his last bit of booze has now been wasted. he curses under his breath, picking up the glass handle of the bottle which now has a sharp edge at the bottom from breaking in half.

from the corner of your eye, you see mingyu approaching. he went out to see where you went because he didn’t trust the situation, catching sight of you right when you pulled yourself away from your ex.

“what’s going on?” he asks, looking at you. “you okay?”

but his presence immediately sours your ex-boyfriend’s mood. “she’s fine. we were just talking.”

“doesn’t look like you’re in the right state of mind to do so.”

“i’ll decide that.”

mingyu has an expression on his face that sits somewhere between harsh and smug. “well, first of all, the lady doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, and secondly, you’re standing in my driveway, on my property — so no, you don’t get to decide that.”

your ex knows he has no leg to stand on, but he’s unwilling to admit defeat. “whatever. i knew from the start that you’ve been after her. she give it to you yet?”

“you’re such a fucking piece of shit—” you cuss at him, but mingyu gestures for you to stay put.

he points to the gate by the start of the driveway. “get the hell out.”

the response seems enough for the guy to convince himself that you and mingyu slept together, which — unfortunately — hasn’t even happened. “i fucking knew it. i knew you wanted her! she’s a fucking slut—”

mingyu decides in that moment that he no longer cares about being the better person. his hand flies right to the boy’s neck, holding a firm grip, his jaw clenched in anger. “say something like that again. do it. see what happens.”

of course, aside from some heavy breathing, it remains silent.

so he nods, as if to say that’s what i thought, the grip of his hand remaining tight. “apologize to her.”

your ex, surprisingly enough, does as he’s told. “sorry.” he mutters, suddenly trying to push mingyu away from him, but to no avail, as the elder of the two is considerably stronger.

mingyu releases him, taking a step back to you again.

despite the slut-shaming, the boy is currently more upset with mingyu than with you. in his eyes, he’s just some old perv taking advantage of you, even when you were in a relationship together. that’s unfair — and it makes him angry.

the sudden heavy emotions paired with the amount of alcohol he’s already got in his system makes a bad combination. being as impulsive as he is, he’s already swung the sharp end of the piece of glass in hand at mingyu, but you saw he was trying to do something and instinctively stuck your arm out.

when mingyu turns around, he hears you hissing in pain, a nasty cut on your lower arm.

your ex drops the glass onto the gravel. “i’m—i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he stutters, slightly sobering up, “are you okay? i’m sorry.”

jesus christ. mingyu suddenly feels a certain pang of guilt shooting through his chest. you got hurt in the process of protecting him. what kind of shitty soap opera has this ordeal turned into?

even if he believes your ex was trying to hurt him and not you, the fact that it happened is more than enough for him to lose his restraint. and he’s about to punch the kid square in his jaw, until your hand pulling at his arm stops him.

“gyu, just... i just want him to leave.” you tell him, hand not leaving his arm.

like it belongs there.

he nods at you, regaining his composure when he turns his face back to your severely drunk ex.

“you better get the fuck out of here. and don’t even think about driving in this state. you’ll get someone killed.” mingyu hisses at him, waving him off like a child being dismissed. “you can walk home. or maybe i should give your father a call—”

“no, i’ll—i’ll leave.” he says, muttering a last apology before he stumbles away, almost tripping in the process.

now that the boy is finally walking off, mingyu raises your arm to inspect the wound. “i don’t think it’s gonna need stitching, but we gotta treat it, make sure we put something on it to stop the bleeding. let’s get you patched up.”

wordlessly, you follow him inside. you enter the house through one of the backdoors, which leads you to the quiet kitchen. the muffled noise of people talking and music still rings through your ears.

he urges you to sit on the edge of the table whilst he’s getting the first aid kit from one of the cabinets attached to the wall. after putting the kit down on the surface beside you, he uses a clean cloth to put pressure on the wound.

you could do it yourself — but you enjoy having him take care of you.

“has he been bothering you? since the breakup?”

“not really? i heard from my mom that he came by the house to talk to me the morning i was still at your place, and once you’d taken me home, he called, but that was pretty much it. until now.”

mingyu sighs as he’s still holding the cloth against your skin. “what does he even want from you?”

“to get back together.”

“seriously?”

“yeah. not that he had a chance with me before or anything, but he sure as hell blew it tonight.”

to check if the bleeding has stopped, he slightly lifts the cloth, and it’s looking much better already. with some sterile wipes from the first aid kit, he gently cleans the wound itself, followed by some antiseptic around it.

“i should’ve given that kid a taste of his own damn medicine.” he grumbles as he continues to treat your arm with steady hands.

“no. i don’t want you to be held accountable for anything.”

“i have friends in high places. i’m not worried.”

“it’s not worth it.”

“after what he called you? it is.”

you raise a brow. how far would he go to protect you? “so, hypothetically, if i asked you to beat him to a pulp—”

it makes him chuckle. “i’d be out the door already. c’mon, you know i’d do that for you in a heartbeat.”

“wasn’t sure if i was that special to you.”

“if you’re not sure of that,” he says, concentrated on putting the plaster onto the wound, “then i think we might need to get your eyes checked.”

with a roll of your eyes, you snort, and the pads of his fingertips sit on the skin of your arm much longer than necessary. he’s patched you up like a true professional, meaning he no longer has a reason to touch you.

but it doesn’t stop him from gently holding your chin with his thumb and index finger, looking at you like his true feelings are about to spill from his lips.

you don’t back away from his touch. he’s frozen in his spot.

not a single word is exchanged between you, but you both feel it. the rising tension, trembling hands, shaky breaths, testing the waters bit by bit.

“is it true? that you want me?” you boldly refer to your ex-boyfriend’s words, leaning into his hold.

being so close to you feels like torture and relief at the same time. it’s everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last months, but not something he should want. he shouldn’t want to have you.

“what i want—” he inhales sharply, forcing the words out of his throat, “doesn’t matter, sweetheart.”

his fingers leave your chin, and he takes a step back.

frankly, he’s not sure if he can breathe without you anymore — but unless he gets away from you now, he’s a goner.

“i, um... i need to put on a clean shirt.” he gives as an excuse, pointing to the small stains of your blood on the fabric. “i’m sorry.”

with half-lidded eyes and uneven breaths, you watch him leave.

even when you’re apart, you can still feel eachother. sweat on your foreheads, racing hearts, thinking about what could’ve happened in that kitchen if you both gave in.

sooner or later, one of you will have to break.

since that moment, something has changed in your dynamic.

the tension between you is almost too palpable. you haven’t even talked about what happened that night, as you simply haven’t been alone in a room together since — but you feel him, and he feels you. all the time.

his eyes are constantly glued to your figure. the gears in his head are constantly turning, because what the fuck is he supposed to say to you? he could never say he doesn’t want you, but he can’t admit that he does, either.

his heart sinks a little deeper into his chest whenever he sees you smile or hears you laugh.

and you’re just as much of a mess about the situation as he is. your eyes are drawn to him every time you hear his voice or catch him walking into the room — even the steadily healing wound on your arm makes your thoughts wander back to him.

but you’ll have to face eachother at some point.

that day comes when the town’s biggest event of the year is set to take place, and your father is one of the volunteers. everyone in and around the neighborhood will be there.

mingyu, looking dashing in his suit, pulls up to your driveway. he’s barely even parked his car before your parents are out the door, walking up to him.

“you got my coat?”

“yeah.” mingyu hands it to him, surprised at your father’s stern expression.

the man talks to your mother with obvious urgency. “is she still not ready?”

“no, still searching.”

mingyu frowns. “what’s wrong?”

your father throws out your name like it’s a curse. “she’s being impossible. apparently, she only has one pair of shoes that doesn’t clash with the color of her outfit, and suddenly she can’t find it anywhere. we’re supposed to be at the venue in forty minutes, and the drive is over half an hour, and she knows i cannot be late—”

mingyu has already offered the solution before he can think about it. “why don’t you two just go on ahead to the venue? i’ll take her there.”

“yeah, that’d be great. i’ll see you there, alright?”

with a curt nod, mingyu agrees, watching your parents get in their car and drive off.

“fuck.” he mutters to himself, leaning against his car, his hands sitting in his pockets.

it takes approximately five minutes until you make it downstairs. surprise is painted across your face when you swing open the front door, finding mingyu standing there instead of your parents.

seeing him in that tailored suit steals your breath. he has to swallow at the sight of your short skirt and the necklace he gifted you sitting pretty on your neck, as always.

he hardly moves a muscle when you walk over to him, not bothering to take his hands out of his pockets. “i see you’ve found your shoes.”

“i did. where’s my dad?”

“they went over there already, so i’ll be your driver for now.”

like the gentleman he is, he opens the door for you, unable to miss the way the bottom of your skirt rides up just a little, and he spots the garters and stockings you’re apparently wearing underneath.

oh, jesus christ. he really needs to focus on something else.

pushing his tongue against his cheek, he shuts the door before walking around the car, getting into the driver’s seat.

the first few minutes pass in silence. you’re looking out the window, he finds himself occasionally glancing at you.

the weather takes a bad turn. rain comes pouring down from the sky, traffic automatically gets more hectic. at a red light, mingyu quickly shrugs off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his forearms.

what he fails to notice is that you’re constantly staring at him from the corner of your eye. mingyu always looks good, but there’s something about an attractive man in formal wear that gets you going like nothing else.

you feel like some deranged person — imagining the sensation of unzipping his pants and putting his cock in your mouth. it has you shuffling in your seat, rubbing your thighs together.

“sweetheart.” he suddenly speaks up. “has your ex bothered you since last time?”

turning your head to him, you huff. “no. but i’m assuming he’s gonna be attending tonight.”

“i figured. why don’t you stay a bit close to me tonight? that way, i can keep an eye on you.”

“yeah, ‘cause that’s the way to go. confronting him with the same thing that made him angry in the first place.”

“i doubt he’ll try anything with me by your side."

a scoff escapes you. “if anything, he’ll try something because you’re by my side. c’mon, gyu, you being by my side so much is what led to me breaking up with him.”

with one hand still on the steering wheel, mingyu is confused. he remembers you telling him you and your ex had an argument about him being close with you, but he didn’t think he was the reason for your break-up.

but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just silently stares ahead. you inhale sharply; you need to do something about the growing, unbearable tension in the air between you.

“you know, my ex told me he was sure you wanted something from me.” you speak up, and he glances at you.

“what?”

“you know what.”

he nods in understanding, but keeps quiet again, even though he knows the conversation was bound to happen at some point.

you continue. “then he asked if i wanted the same from you.”

his breath gets stuck in his throat as he starts speaking up to spare himself the rejection. “look, sweetheart, i—”

“are those nicknames only reserved for me?” you ask with a certain breathlessness to your tone.

and he answers just a little too fast. “yes.”

“why didn’t you ever make a move on me? you knew me long before i even went on that date.”

a scoff of disbelief escapes him. “because you’re my best friend’s daughter — hell, you could’ve been mine. you’re almost two decades younger than me.”

“we’re both adults.”

“doesn’t change the fact that your dad would kill me if he found out.”

“yet you’ve still been handsy with me all this time. not to mention you had me staying over at your house that time when i was drunk, even though you could’ve walked me home. you were this close to kissing me after patching up my arm.”

“what do you want me to say? do you think it’s been easy to keep my distance from you?”

“well, you’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

he’s baffled at the insinuation. “you don’t think i wanted to kiss you in the kitchen after taking care of you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve thought about it? but you’re my best friend’s daughter, i—i just can’t. no matter how much i might want to.”

unfortunately for him, you don’t agree.

he’s so caught up in the worry of the truth coming to the surface that he doesn’t catch your hand reaching out to his thigh until it’s already there.

locking eyes with you, you stare him right back in the eye as your fingers travel higher up his leg, hand steadily getting closer to his crotch.

jesus fucking christ — is this actually happening right now?

judgement utterly blinded by desire, you tell him the complete truth. “when my ex asked me if i wanted to fuck you, i wanted to say yes. i only got together with him in the first place ‘cause i needed a distraction from you.”

the air gets knocked out of his lungs with every word coming out of your mouth. are you trying to kill him? he’s rock hard under your touch already. he’s lucky the car is standing still at a red light.

“stop, sweetheart, please—”

“yeah, i was hoping you’d call me that.” you’re almost moaning out, now daring to put your hand against his clothed dick, making him twitch in his pants. “didn’t feel the same when he did.”

possessiveness washes over him. you’re playing him like a fiddle, recognizing exactly what gets him going. “he called you that?”

you nod, “i hated it. but you — every time you call me that, i go insane.”

with your hand on his crotch, you’re leaning over to his side, lips almost touching his. ironically, he’s the one who closes the gap between you.

your first kiss is as messy as it is intimate. he cups your jaw, sighing into it like he’s been waiting for it for years on end. the worst thing of all might be that it feels so right.

the car behind you suddenly honks, and you realize the light has already turned green, but he’s barely even paying attention to it.

“doll, i just… fuck, if we do this once, we can’t go back. i won’t be able to stay away from you.”

a funny statement, considering he already can’t stay away from you now.

“then don’t. i can keep a secret, so can you. you can take me whenever you want.”

“you’d let me—really?”

“yeah.”

and in that moment, when he tells himself he can keep it secret — he knows it’s over, and you’ve won.

instead of going straight ahead, he takes the exit on the right, the car coming to a halt in an empty parking lot. as heavy rain continues to fall from the grey clouds, your hands are already back on him before he’s gotten the chance to turn off the engine.

“please, let me suck it. i’ve wanted it for so long.” you tell him while unbuttoning your shirt, discarding it, showing off the lacy bra you’ve got on underneath.

good lord, you’re just so eager to suck him dry, a man almost twice your age — he doesn’t deny you.

he breathlessly unzips his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from his boxers. he’s ridiculously hard from your teasing, and when you take him into your mouth, he’s convinced he’s gone to heaven.

his hand finds the top of your head, while he forces himself not to push you down on him. “that’s it. just like that — fuck.”

with a guttural moan, he closes his eyes, tilting his head back while his tip kisses the back of your throat. you hum around him whenever he praises you, causing a filthy smirk to rise to his face.

just having that confirmation that you wanted him this entire time, just as much as he wanted you, and now being with you like this? the knowledge that you only got with that piece of shit from down the block because you had to distract yourself from him? yeah, it does stroke his ego.

his eyes roll back into his skull once you take him deeper into your throat. as good as you feel around him, he gently pulls you off him, wiping the spit from your lips.

you’re breathing heavily, and you both stare at eachother for a moment, until mingyu’s gaze trails lower, to your chest — to the lacy bra, and the necklace he gifted you.

with his index finger, he touches the gold material he regrets not engraving his initials into. “when you were with him… did you wear it?”

“i haven’t taken it off since you put it on.” you tell him, sliding your panties down your legs before getting into his lap, adjusting to the cramped space in the car. “made me think of you while he was fucking me.”

he hisses at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing down against his cock. “yeah? been thinking about me a lot?”

“all the time.”

fucking hell. you drive him crazy.

“get in the backseat.” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. while you climb to the backseat through the space between the front seats, he pushes his dick back into his boxers just to look somewhat decent as he gets out the car and then proceeds to get in the back. much to his pleasure, the parking lot is still empty.

he hovers above you on the leather seats, your skirt flipped upwards to expose your pussy for him.

just as he wants to stretch you out with his fingers, you hold up a condom.

“don’t you want me to—”

but you shake your head. “not now. just want you.”

well, he won’t refuse your wishes, but fuck does he wish he could be tasting you right now.

ripping the package open with his teeth, he rolls the condom onto his cock, feeling the way you tense up when he’s pushing the tip against your wetness.

“you can take me, can’t you, angel?” he murmurs, and you nod, slightly shifting your hips so you’re more comfortable.

of course you noticed how thick he was when having him in your mouth, but fuck, the stretch burns. he pushes himself in torturously slow, inch by inch, and you grip his broad shoulders.

but the sheer desperation for him to finally take you is so overwhelming that you nudge at his arm. “gyu, i can take it.”

once he finally bottoms out, a groan falls from your lips. a grin tugs at his lips when seeing your face under him, his chest swelling with pride. “i knew you could, sweetheart.”

the praise has you bucking up your hips to meet his, and as he slightly increases the pace of his thrusts, your nails can’t help but dig into the skin of his back.

oh, he’s good. his hands are roaming your body, all over your skin, groping your breasts, thumb rubbing your clit — he’s ruthless, even when his words are sickeningly sweet, muttering praises into your ear.

“that asshole been neglecting you, huh? i bet he couldn’t even make you cum, could he?”

all you can do is breathlessly shake your head.

it breaks something in him. “my poor girl. ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

you nod this time. over and over, your voice nothing more than a desperate plea. “please, just give me—give it to me.”

the way you beg is what does it for him. with gritted teeth, he picks up the pace, the rhythm he sets enough to shake the car.

god, it’s like he’s splitting you apart. for a moment, you forget how cramped the car is, how much the leather is digging into your back — all you feel is his sticky skin against yours, so you pull him down into a heated, open-mouthed kiss, his lips eventually lowering to your jaw.

his cock hits a spot inside you that nearly has you jolting in place. he feels you tightening around him, and he’s eager to hit that spot over and over again.

“that’s it, baby, i got you,” he urges while you’re slowly falling apart underneath him, his fingers rubbing over your clit again to stimulate you.

the orgasm hits you in waves, thighs trembling and chest heaving.

as you’re coming around him, his thrusts get sloppier, the rhythm of his hips unsteady.

mingyu curses loudly when the high he’s been resisting finally washes over him. it has his hips stuttering against you, and you suck in a breath.

he puts a hand against the fogged-up window to keep himself from crushing you with his body weight, and he peers down at you with half-lidded eyes and blown out pupils.

“you look pretty like this.” he says impulsively, and you laugh breathlessly.

“yeah, you don’t look too bad yourself, old man.”

it gets a chuckle out of him.

“c’mon.” you tug at his arm, pulling him down to lay on the seat while you get to the side so you can get on top of him, face in the crook of his neck as you both allow yourselves a second to catch your breaths.

he sighs. “i don’t think we’re gonna make it to the party tonight.”

with a smile, you press a kiss to his cheek. “good. i was already hoping we wouldn’t.”

while you and him remain in the backseat of his car, your parents are at the event, utterly oblivious — and they eventually run into your ex.

they’re still in the dark about what happened the past weeks, but your ex — who’s still bitter about the way things ended between you — lets something slip. something about you and your father’s best friend liking eachother more than they’re supposed to.

a statement which your father doesn’t believe in the slightest. the idea is laughable at best. something like that can’t have been going on under his nose all this time, surely.

but it lingers with him.

because you end up giving some bullshit excuse as to why you and mingyu didn’t end up getting to the event that night.

and your father quietly begins to notice things he never paid attention to before.

at lunch, mingyu knows exactly what to order for you when you’ve gone to the ladies’ room. your perfume can be smelled on his clothes. when you’re not feeling well, he’s always concerned for you. whenever you share something, mingyu knows about it already.

your father realizes that maybe, your ex was being truthful.

at first, he gets angry. how else could he feel, with his best friend getting together with his much younger daughter? in secret, no less.

he plans to confront both of you about it, together. but as he watches you converse from afar, he thinks he’s never seen his best friend happier. his daughter wears a smile so big that it lights up the room.

so once you’re out of earshot, he walks up to mingyu.

“you better be serious about her.”

it takes him a second to realize your father has finally discovered the truth, and he nods, glad that he no longer has to hide how hard he’s fallen for you. “i am.”

the man sighs.

“alright. i need a drink.”

thank u for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it <3

wonwoo frowns at his phone; he doesn’t understand why you keep trying to get close to him or why you even like him, but it’s starting to piss him off. the teasing from both seungcheol and mingyu doesn’t help either. wonwoo is on the brink of insanity and you won’t let go of your stupid crush on him. 

sure, he’s popular, he’s hot, and girls are gonna like him. but for some reason you have a knack for getting under his skin. in his three years of university, no girl has ever been so diligent in pursuing him, not like you. just the ping he gets from his instagram dm’s ticks him off, because no one else sends him more texts in a row, not like you. he hates how you’ve gotten his friends to do your bidding, like the smirk on mingyu’s face when he hands him your meaningless gifts. 

“another text from your girlfriend?” cheol snickers, leaning over the dining hall table to peek at wonwoo’s phone. 

blood rushes through wonwoo’s body with vigour. he’s red with anger, not embarrassment. he hates when dumb and dumber refer to you as his girlfriend. god forbid. 

“fuck off. she wishes she was my girfriend,” wonwoo yanks the phone to his chest, not wanting to have new material to tease him about. 

“whatever you say man, she’s still hot,” mingyu interjects, popping a fry into his mouth. 

“who cares how hot she is, she’s fucking nuts,” wonwoo scoffs, rolling his eyes at mingyu. 

“you’re an idiot. if someone like her was obsessed with me i’d at least hit it once,” mingyu argues. 

wonwoo can’t even fathom the thought of fucking you. not when you’re constantly in his dm’s trying to get his attention. the desperation you display practically reeks off his phone. it repels any thought of finding you attractive from his mind. 

“really? you haven’t thought about once?” cheol asks him, an expression of disbelief painted on his face. 

wonwoo tries to recall a time when he found you normal. at the beginning of the semester, there was a slight chance. slight chance, that he found you cute. but after the one project you two did together, his opinion on you changed drastically. 

you became irritating, texting him randomly throughout the day. he was polite at first, replying with curt responses. but then came the unsolicited gifts. first, it was coffee, his favourite. how you found out his usual, he’s unsure. then came the matching items. overly cute couple's phone cases that went into the trash immediately. then it was the homemade baked goods and food. at first, he tried not to let it get to him, but it became too much. you were so obviously obsessed and no matter what he did, you would find a way to shower with him with unwanted attention. 

the thought of you under him makes him shiver. flushed cheeks, long lashes fluttering under the dim lights, the sounds of your moans. wonwoo takes a sip of his water. what the hell is your problem? 

“no. and i’m not going to. ever.” 

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

the moment wonwoo walked into seungcheol’s house, his smile dropped. the moment he walked through the door, his eyes found you standing alone, sipping at your drink while the party patrons didn’t bother to even glance your way. of fucking course you’re here. he doesn’t know how you even found out about him attending, but he wasn’t about to let it ruin his night. 

“wonwoo!” mingyu hollers from across the living room. 

the deafening bass of the speaker stabs at his eardrums, but that's not his highest concern at the moment. you are. 

he attempts to ignore how he can feel your eyes flit to him the moment you hear mingyu call his name. your stare is so intense that goosebumps begin to raise on his skin. 

“bro, what the fuck! now she knows i’m here,” wonwoo curses his idiot friend out. 

with his jaw clenched, he can still feel you watching him. it creeped him out, but there's nowhere to hide. stupid rich seungcheol and his stupid open lay out mansion. 

“so? who cares, it’s not like she’s actually gonna–” mingyus words are cut off the moment he looks over wonwoo’s shoulder. 

“hi wonwoo!” your voice is too cheerful for his liking. 

there are so many things running through his mind. whether he should curse you out, completely ignore your existence, or if he should just go home. how is he supposed to enjoy the one weekend where he actually has free time if you keep bothering him? 

“oh, hey! we were just talking about how wonwoo wanted to talk to you. privately,” mingyu brings wonwoo out of his train of thought. 

his eyes widen, a silent attestation to whatever mingyu was planning in that fucked up brain of his. 

“wait, really?” 

wonwoo still had his back turned towards you. from an outsiders point of view he can only presume that anyone could see how he was shaking with anger. what the fuck, kim mingyu? 

“yeah! anyways, you guys have fun. i gotta find cheol,” mingyu’s smile drips with fraudulence. 

if wonwoo was angry then, he’s seething now. mouthing a ‘you’re dead’ to mingyu as he feels your fingers grip onto his bicep, waiting for him to whisk you away like some phony princess. 

before mingyu leaves him, he whispers one last remark, “just fuck her, man. she’ll forget about you once she gets it out of her system.” 

his voice is low but just loud enough for wonwoo to hear. he almost punches mingyu right then and there, but for some reason, something in him decides to just go with the flow of the situation. 

at least he’ll get something out of this, right?

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

the door locks with an audible click. fuck it. if wonwoo was gonna do this, then he might as well make sure no one catches him. 

“what did you want to talk about?” you break the silence, wonwoo almost jumps at the sound of your voice. 

“you like me, right?” wonwoo turns to face you. 

your eyes are doe-like, looking up at him like he’s the answer to all your problems. pathetic. 

as he crosses his arms, he strides towards you until he can feel your breath brush against his chest. the look you give him almost has him wondering if this isn’t as a bad idea as he initially thought. 

“i-i mean yeah. i guess you could say that,” you mutter, avoiding eye contact as wonwoo bores holes into your skin. he can feel the swirl of annoyance begin to manifest within his stomach. 

now you wanted to play coy? as if he can’t sniff the desperation that leaks through your pores. it’s pitiful, if anything, how much of a slut you are for his attention. god, wonwoo can’t stand you sometimes, it makes him want to rip his hair out. 

he supposes that fucking his frustration out of his system may be the one thing that could relieve him of the stress you give him. 

“if you like me, you’ll do anything right?” wonwoo continues to tiptoe his way into getting you to at least suck him off. 

“anything. really, i’ll even pay for our date!” you gush, finally meeting his gaze. 

wonwoo guffaws at your answer. not only are you desperate, but you’re dumb too. it makes sense honestly, no one with an IQ over eighty-five would spend this much time trying to get their crush to like them back. 

“get on your knees then. show me how much you like me,” he commands, and you freeze upon his words. 

a laugh threatens to escape his throat. wonwoo stands there half in disbelief and half in intrigue. he watches as you slowly descend to your knees, your eyes searching for his next command. 

actually, wonwoo could get used to this. you looked like a dog waiting for their owner to give them a reward. 

“like this?” you mumble, the blush on your cheeks apparent even with how dimly lit seungcheol’s guest bedroom is. 

“just like that.” 

you’re shaking like a leaf, and wonwoo is starting to believe that this is going to be a lot more entertaining than he initially thought. who knew you would be so obedient?

“you ever sucked a cock before?” wonwoo asks, not that he cares all that much about your sexual history. 

“mm. n-no,” you whisper, your brows strews together with confusion. 

wonwoo is genuinely surprised. he would’ve at least thought you’ve gotten some sort of action. he can admit you’re attractive, but your delusional state just overshadows your natural beauty. 

“then i’ll be your first,” wonwoo drawls, and he can see the way your eyes flash with panic. 

“w-wait, i thought you wanted to talk?” you quickly get up from your knees, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“you really think i took you into a room, just the two of us, to talk?” wonwoo bellows out a laugh. 

he didn’t expect you to be so naive, but it only eggs him on further. a sweet little virgin, too innocent for her own good. now that, wonwoo can’t let go. he came into this with reluctance, but fucking virgin pussy is too enticing to pass up. 

“i thought you wanted to tell me you liked me back,” you gulp. 

your footsteps backtrack until you hit a wall. wonwoo crowds you, like a lamb to a slaughter, you stand there with hope depleted from your once glimmering eyes. and wonwoo’s ready to go in for the kill. 

“show me how bad you want me. maybe i’ll change your mind,” wonwoo propositions. 

grasping at your waist, he feels the heat of your exposed skin. your top is dishevelled from the sheer force of his grip. as if his words can compel you to do anything he asks, you smash your lips into him. the kiss is clumsy, and messy, he can only conclude you’ve never done anything like this before.

pulling away, he catches his breath. he despises how strongly his dick twitches in his pants. as much as he doesn’t want to indulge in your fantasies, an opportunity such as this one doesn’t arise often. 

“you poor little thing. you don’t even know how to kiss someone properly,” he breathes out, grabbing your jaw hard enough that your cheeks squish upon his touch. 

“w-wonwoo, can we just talk? this seems wrong,” you beg, but your pleas only arouse him further. 

“i thought you liked me?” 

“i do!” you argue. 

“then kiss me like you mean it.” 

you lean in again, eyebrows furrowed with determination. he can tell you’re actually trying now. to appease him, to give him what he wants, because why wouldn’t you? wonwoo is aware of how much you want him, he should’ve realized sooner that he could use it to his advantage. 

the softness of your lips alongside the dedication behind your actions forces a groan to leave him. he grips your waist tighter, enough to leave bruises along your delicate skin. the whimper you let out has wonwoo straining against his pants. 

pulling you in closer, wonwoo rubs his clothed erection against your torso. the friction causes sparks to erupt under his fingertips. those same fingertips trail on your bare skin, slowly traversing their way up your stomach and under your shirt. 

wonwoo’s large palms cup at your breasts, enjoying the fact he can access your nipples without the barrier of a bra in his way. the moan you let is wonwoo’s worst nightmare. not because it’s unpleasant, but because he hates that your sounds are getting him turned on despite his obvious disdain toward you. 

“wonwoo… i don’t think this is right,” you whine, but your words fall on deaf ears as he keeps you anchored against the wall. 

you can’t escape him even if you tried. 

“if you don’t do what i ask of you, then you can leave,” wonwoo becomes increasingly more irritated the more you protest his advances. 

you wanted this, so he’s gonna give you it. 

“but what about our date?” you pout, lips swollen and bitten. 

there’s conflict behind your eyes, like you knew this wasn’t wanted but better than anything he’s given you the moment you started liking him. 

wonwoo is quick to silence you. he doesn’t want to hear about whatever delusions you’ve conjured up in your head. his dick is hard and he wants to cum. 

a gasp leaves your lips, he can’t have you running your mouth when his cock is starting to pulse so hard that it’s becoming uncomfortable. his hands leave your pebbled nipples to grab onto your thighs. lifting you up, he throws you onto the mattress, and you yelp from surprise. 

“don’t be stupid. all you wanted was for me to notice you. so just take what i give you,” wonwoo grunts, prying your legs open. 

fuck, if you’re not gonna suck him off, then he needs to be inside you now or he’ll cum in his pants. 

the patch of arousal on your panties doesn’t go unnoticed. of course, you’re secretly enjoying this. he should’ve known you were secretly a whore for him. flipping your skirt up, he rips off your panties off in one go. he needs to be inside you in the next second or he’s gonna bust a load in his pants. 

“w-wait, i’m not ready,” you complain again. 

wonwoo’s deciding whether or not to gag you, but for some reason your high pitched objection gets him rock hard. the thought of you begging him to stop gets the blood pumping straight to his shaft. 

your shirt is discarded not long after, and you lie there helpless, panting and clearly in need of attention to your poor untouched hole. 

“i-it hurts wonwoo, help me please,” you whine, a tear slipping from the corner of your eyes. 

“where? show me where and i can give you what you want,” wonwoo’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. 

your fingers move down slowly until they touch right where he’s been fantasizing about the moment he got you to fess up about your innocence. 

“r-right here. please, i don’t know what to do. it just hurts,” you hiccup, grabbing his hand and pushing it towards your dripping heat. 

he smirks at your desperate countenance, the part in your pink lips, wet with his saliva and swollen from the intensity of his kiss. wonwoo had to get his cock into you. now. 

“fuck, you’re dripping like crazy,” wonwoo mutters. 

with your hand clasped in his, the size difference between the two of you is hard to ignore. your fingers are so tiny compared to his, he wonders if you’ve even touched yourself. do your fingers even properly fill your tiny cunt? or do you have to shove a dildo inside yourself in order to feel any sort of satisfaction? wonwoo’s thoughts run as the tips of his fingers come in contact with your searing heat. 

the groan wonwoo lets out is strained. your breath hitches at his touch as he begins to rub your clit. the sounds that escape your lips has  wonwoo panting along with you. while moving toward your neck, he leaves deep red bruises along your soft skin while he slips a finger past your folds. 

your pussy squeezes around his single digit with such force that it causes him to grunt. you’re so fucking tight. 

“holy fuck, you’re secretly a desperate little slut, aren’t you? don’t you feel this, baby? you’re gripping my finger like crazy,” wonwoo mutters against your skin. 

“i-i can’t. wonwoo please it hurts,” you squirm under him, but his free hand keeps you in place. 

his body hovering over yours, he watches as you come undone from a few strokes of his hand. the lips he had on your exposed shoulder return back to yours until your orgasm hits. your breathy gasps fill the room and you clench down, the flood of your arousal coating his hand. 

“gonna fuck this tight little cunt till you’re dripping in my cum,” wonwoo mutters, standing up to rid himself of his clothing. 

the moment his pants hit the floor, his body is on yours. pushing your legs to your chest, he folds you in half. the tip of his cock leaking with precum from not receiving any attention the whole time he’s been playing with you. wonwoo grips his length, rubbing himself against your soaking cunt, you’re so wet that he knows he can slip in without a problem. 

you stare down at his dick in sheer panic, “w-wait, it’s too big.” 

wonwoo doesn’t care. he just needs to cum. 

“you act like you don’t want this. but this pussy of yours is practically crying for my cock,” wonwoo grunts before shoving his length inside you till he bottoms out. 

a half scream, half moan leaves your lips, your eyes rolling back as wonwoo thrusts into you. there’s a slight arch in your back as wonwoo pistons his hips. the heat of your pussy enveloping his length is addictive. 

wonwoo buries himself in your neck, his breath harsh against your skin. the only thing to be heard is the snap of his hips bullying into your hole. 

“it feels so good,” you whimper as you lace your fingers through his hair. 

pulling at the strands, wonwoo indulges in the pain along with the pleasure of your walls massaging his pulsing member. he should’ve thought of doing this a lot sooner. 

“mmph–w-wonoo, i can’t, i-it hurts again,” you cry out, and wonwoo almost releases his load at the sound of your moans. 

but he can’t finish just yet. 

relinquishing you from his hold, he moves back to flip you over. forcing your ass into the air, he enters you once again. the position allowing him to fill your tiny hole to the brim. his balls slap against your clit, and your screams are muffled by the mattress he’s forcing your face into. 

“should’ve fucked you sooner, f-fuck. gonna make this tiny cunt of yours mine and mine only,” wonwoo growls, and he can feel your pussy clench at his words. 

“you like that don’t you? the thought of me fucking this pussy every night?” he chuckles, spanking your ass. 

“i-i love it, please. it feels so good,” your answer stifled by the sheets shoved into your face. 

the bed creaks along with his movements, and his cock is starting to twitch inside you. continuing to leave red hand marks on your skin, he allows himself to still in your cunt, his cum spurting into you and overflowing past your swollen pussy lips. 

pulling you by your hair, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. 

Park Seonghwa.

A name hot on the lips of everyone in the underground. Notorious kingpin and ruthless negotiator of his own crime syndicate, Wonderland. His name holds more power, and elicits more reactions than a nuclear bomb. It is not a name you want to hear is chasing after you.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wants. If anyone dares to stand in his way, their existence is wiped completely off of the map. Empires have risen and fallen in mere days thanks to his handy work, that staying on good terms with him often depends on his mood.

Cold. Emotionless. Calculating. Brutal in the most volatile of ways. Park Seonghwa is not a man to be reckoned with, nor is he to be taken lightly.

A man with many quirks, who has but one fatal flaw.

You.

Being the wife of such a notorious crime boss is not easy. The constant threat of being targeted by hunters, assassins, kidnappers, or even rival syndicates in attempts to gain an upper edge over your husband gets quite tiring. Not many have ever succeeded in hurting you, let alone killing you. No one ever will.

Not unless they wish to live another day.

Seonghwa has spared no expense in regards to your protection, selecting only the best of the best of his most trusted men to protect you. However, there is the issue in and of itself. They’re men. Humans. They can only offer you so much. He used to have an elite team of vampires guarding you, but they were bought over by a rival gang.

Shame. They were his second strongest team.

Humans, fickle as they are, can be compelled. Once a human is compelled, no other vampire can break that compulsion. Your guards are instructed to offer their lives before accepting a rival syndicates’ offer. 

Each man was hand picked by Seonghwa himself, training them with his own personal guard to defend against any other supernatural being that they might come into contact with. Guns are loaded with indestructible bullets, inscribed with his family’s signature crest. Bullets which can penetrate any raw material, and kill whatever creature they come into contact with.

Every now and then, Seonghwa will add one of his own personal guard to yours. A precaution to make sure the compelled men are doing their job, and that the compulsion hasn’t worn off. Those who cannot abide by the rules are dealt with. Should anyone so much as lay a finger on you, the kingpin himself has no issue chopping off each extremity one knuckle at a time.

Going after you is a fool’s errand. Only the bravest - or rather, stupidest - have ever tried. If even so much as a whisper of an attempt on your life, or your relationship with him, reaches his ears, he is quick to stop it dead in its tracks. Literally.

No one comes in between the two of you. Absolutely no one.

You are the apple of his eye. The only one he can truly be vulnerable with, and let his guard down. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Anything you could ever want or desire, he will provide, no questions asked. Seonghwa worships the very ground you walk on. He worships you.

You are his, and he is yours. Nothing will ever change that fact.

Over the course of many years, the two of you have had many ups and downs. Learning about his true nature had been a bit of a rough patch, especially once you discovered what he is. However, one thing that has always remained strong is your trust in one another. Seonghwa would never hurt you. He would rather carve out his own heart than do anything that would warrant you being afraid of him. A fact which you knew was unquestionably true, especially once you saw just how much of a monster he could be.

A monster whom you love with all your heart, and who has entrusted you with his own.

Perhaps that’s why his organization has lasted so long. Instead of excluding you from his affairs, he revels in the fact that you are always more than ready and willing to help. Your ideas have saved him and his men more times than anyone outside of the organization will ever know. Because of this, you’ve butted heads with his inner circle more times than he can count, but it’s always with good reason.

Nothing makes him prouder than watching you put someone in their place, even if he’s one of those people sometimes.

Your importance spans far more than a simple marriage bond. Since you are one of the only known consistent women in his life, that’s all outsiders seem to focus on. Every nasty name, every type of derogatory comment, has been thrown your way by estranged men and women. Most attempt to push the two of you apart, hoping to drive a wedge between the two of you so they can topple his empire. They seem to mock you for being the ‘outsider’ in the group, not fitting in to the typical ‘escort’ ideal.

What they all seem to get wrong is that you are not a typical ‘escort’. You’re no ‘mistress’, either.

Well… other than the times you’ve brought Seonghwa to his knees, of course.

The other women you’ve occasionally bonded with inside of his syndicate either work undercover to gather intel for his men, or are one of their respective significant others. None of them dare to cross you, all of them treating you with the highest of respect. They all know what would happen should one decide to step out of line. The last, and only women to try was a fine example.

Unlike most of the shallow men that appear in this line of work, Seonghwa is very fond of your curves, and your height. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful, precious, perfect being to have ever walked the earth. Always, he is more than happy to remind you of that fact.

Most of the time, Seonghwa can barely keep his hands to himself. Whenever you’re around, he’s always got a hand placed so delicately against your lower back, or an arm around your waist or shoulders. If he’s feeling particularly frisky, he may pull you into his lap while discussing business plans, or casually cup your ass by sliding his hand into the back pocket of your jeans. That, or he’s making a point that you’re with him.

Seonghwa is a possessive man, and he wants the whole world to know that you’re his. Similarly, there is no being more prideful than him over the fact that he is yours. You belong to each other, and nothing will change that. Everyone should weep in envy at the fact that only he gets to touch you, and only you get to touch him.

The man can’t help it. Showing you off is one of his favourite pastimes. The whole world needs to know what they can never have. It’s become so prominent, you’ve had to start imposing a rule during the extremely important meetings to keep the touching to a minimum.

Of course, he usually toes the line between accidental caresses and handsy, but it’s not like you really mind. Despite his ruthless demeanour, Seonghwa would never truly force you into anything you didn’t want. Your comfort and safety is his top priority, and he would much rather you feel safe in his arms, than believe he could ever do anything to hurt you.

Everyone else, on the other hand…

Park Seonghwa is a man of few faces, but only you get the honour of knowing what he looks like when he’s in love.

“Where is she?” A sigh is breathed out through his nose as he sits at the grand dining table. You were supposed to join him fifteen minutes ago, but you’ve yet to arrive home. “It’s not like her to be late.”

Seonghwa begins to tap the tips of his fingers against the top of the grand mahogany table. The food is going to get colder with every minute you delay your arrival, and he never wants to serve you mediocre food. Besides, he’s supposed to be having a guest for dinner.

Dark eyes flit around the room, noting the silent guards stationed at the side of the room. Their faces are stoic, giving nothing away that would suggest they’re keeping things from him. 

Not that they could hide anything, even if they tried.

Seonghwa would have gotten his own personal guards to attend this meal, but the guest’s conditions upon meeting wouldn’t allow such a thing. Still, the man sitting behind the table is smart. Despite his reputation, many still underestimate how far he will go to maintain the upper hand. No one knows this house like him and his inner circle. Besides you, of course.

Stationed in strategic parts surrounding the dining room, his personal guards wait. Some are on patrol, but the ones that never miss are on immediate standby.

Letting out a sigh, Seonghwa thinks back on the last time he saw you. It had been this morning, he recalls, your conversation echoing through his head. The vampire had been admiring you openly from the comfort of your shared bed, nothing but silk sheets draped over his hips. His head rested against his open palm, elbow supporting himself as he fought off the desire pooling throughout his entire body. 

You were positively glowing beneath the light of the rising sun, his marks practically shining upon your skin. Even after an intense night of lovemaking, Seonghwa was still insatiable. How could he not be? You are everything he’s ever wanted in life; one look and he’s ready to fall apart. It didn’t help that the image of you from last night, fucked out and desperate, with tears of overstimulation in your eyes, kept flitting through his mind.

He nearly missed the fact that you told him all about your plans for today. 

You were going to visit a friend for lunch.

It’s been hours since then, and he hasn’t heard from you once.

“Sir,” A voice from off to his right draws his attention, and the subordinate recoils in fear at the sharp look sent his way. “The guests have arrived.”

Letting out an irritated sigh through his nose, Seonghwa leans back in his seat. A quick glance is spare to the empty high backed chair beside him which matches his own in every way. Two thrones. One for the King, and one for his Queen. Neither are supposed to be empty while the other sits in theirs.

He’s not used to this. He’s not used to not having you beside him.

Seonghwa purses his lips, giving the servant a curt nod in response. Looks like he’ll have to start without you.

The large double doors to the dining room are pushed open, a lone figure walking inside. Short, dark blond hair is slicked back, grease practically dripping off of the strands. An air of arrogance surrounds the tall man, every step echoing off of the marble walls. His head is held high, an expression of the utmost confidence painted across his features as his green eyes dance in amusement.

“Seonghwa! My man!” Arms are spread wide in greeting as the man comes to stand directly before the large dining table. His eyes scan the empty seat beside the kingpin, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “I didn’t think you were one to dine alone.”

The doors fall shut with a definitive slam, the room suddenly appearing much darker beneath the dim lights.

“James.” Seonghwa blinks, a look of disinterest on his features. Reaching out, he takes his wine glass into his hand, swirling the contents lightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Did you forget about out meeting?” The man quirks a brow. “It seems your wife has.”

The wine glass stills in Seonghwa’s hand. The sharpest of glares that would make anyone crumble beneath its gaze is sent James’ way, a few of the guards stationed at the sides of the room straightening from the intensity.

“Watch your mouth.” A warning that is not to be taken lightly. “Unlike you, I don’t need to control every aspect of a woman’s life.”

Seonghwa schools his features back into a look of disinterest, sipping back the rest of his wine. He rests his now empty glass near the edge of the table, fingers delicately holding onto the stem. Two taps, and the server begins to move to refill his master’s glass.

“Such brave words coming from a man who should really be keeping tabs on that which he supposedly cares for most.”

A scowl paints itself onto Seonghwa’s features, grip tightening over his wine glass. The server sure seems to be taking his sweet ass time, and the man at the table is beginning to get impatient.

“Tell me, Park,” James hums, clasping his hands behind his back with an air of relaxed ease. “Do you know where your wife is tonight?”

Seonghwa’s lips purse into a thin line, a vein in his temple throbbing as he clenches his jaw.

“Wherever my wife may or may not be is none of your concern, James.”

The server finally steps up beside Seonghwa with a fresh bottle at the ready. Wordlessly, the kingpin raises his glass into the air, fingers delicately holding onto the base of the bowl. Wine immediately begins filling the crystal, turning what once was pure into a dark red.

“No, perhaps it’s not.” James simpers. The man begins to pace lightly in front of the notorious mobster, his nose lifted pointedly in the air. “But perhaps, it should be yours.”

The doors to the dining room begin to open, a scuffle apparent in the hallway beyond. A few shouts can be heard, loud curses followed by the prominent clicking of heels.

Unrivalled fury paints itself across Seonghwa’s features as he watches your figure, beaten and bloody, being shoved into the room at gunpoint. Your clothes are torn and dirty, clear lines cutting through the smeared blood on your face to make way for your tears.

The glass in his hand shatters into pieces.

Rivulets of red trickle down his skin, his chest rising and falling dramatically. There’s a sudden chill that fills the room, and James’ own wife who is pointing the gun at your head visibly shivers.

Maria may be a powerful witch, but even she knows not to provoke monsters.

“Some security detail you had.” James guffaws, shoulders shaking in laughter. “Military men? Humans at that? You were practically begging for someone to take out the trash.”

Slowly, James begins stalking towards you.

Maria takes a cautious step back as he approaches, uncertainty in her eyes. The gun in her hand feels heavy, and she has to bring the other up to help support it in order to stop herself from shaking.

“You know… I never understood what you saw in her.” He continues, tracing his hand over your shoulders as he circles around your back. “Weak. Pathetic. Ugly.”

James pauses right beside you, grabbing you harshly by the back of the neck. The way his nails dig unforgivingly into you causes a fresh trail of blood to begin dripping down your skin.

Wood begins splintering beneath Seonghwa’s grip as he digs his hands into the arms of his chair. Lips are curled over sharp fangs, but still, the kingpin does not move.

Not yet.

The timing isn’t quite right.

“You and I both know ‘wife’ is just a codename for ‘living blood bag.’” Stepping in behind you, James purposely rests his chin on your shoulder. He forces your head to the side as he inhales your neck, making you shudder in disgust. “I don’t blame you for harvesting one so plump. Fat makes for good insulation. They don’t break as easily, and their blood is still pretty decent if you leave them to marinate for a few days. Besides, a couple days without food could do this one some good.”

The way such a vile creature has the audacity to reach up at pat your plush cheek makes Seonghwa snap. Though, at this point, he is passed the point of dramatic, extreme violence. Right now, he is so furious, a searing sense of calm begins flooding his entire body.

A list is already being compiled within his mind of all the ways Seonghwa is going to torture this vampire for even daring to look at you. Items, even more deadly than the last, are added with each offence such filth bestows upon you. Right now, that list is up to twenty-four. And counting.

“About that territory I wanted… I figured we could celebrate a done deal by draining the fat bitch dry.” James drags a single finger along a fresh trail of blood that drips over your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body trembling in disgust. The feeling of this wretched man’s hands on you makes your skin crawl. All you want is to rip his dick off and shove it so far up his ass his witch of a wife can taste it when she kisses him. Only, the gun pointed firmly at your head by said woman, along with the dangerous vampire quite literally at your throat prevents you from doing just that.

James’ each movement is slow. Precise. He makes sure to drag out this moment, bringing his finger up to his mouth to suck your blood from his skin. His eyes flash with glee as he meets the furious gaze of the kingpin before him, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

“Mmmh… Not bad…” A smug expression rests over James’ face, seemingly humming to himself. Focussing on the male before him once more, he smirks. “So, what do you say, Park? Do we have a deal?”

Seonghwa takes a deep breath in through his nose, the sharp exhale being heard all the way across the room. A sound which causes each and every one of his subordinates to freeze. A white cloth quickly gets handed to him by the server, the younger man trembling in fear. No one wants to become unfortunate collateral simply by being present during one of the King’s fits of unbridled rage.

In one fluid movement, Seonghwa shakes out the cloth, beginning to dab at the dark red staining his white sleeve. Though he’s managed to control his expression, a hard look settles onto his features. There is no denying the pure, white hot fury blazing within his dark eyes.

“You come into our home,” Seonghwa’s voice is low, dangerous and steady. Slowly, he wipes off the splatter of red that covers the shoulder of his black waist coat. “Disrespect me. Disrespect, insult, and brutalize my wife. Repeatedly mock the way we conduct proper business, and then have the audacity to insist on using underhand methods to get what you want? From me? Me?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, halting all movement of his hand. Fingers dig unforgivingly into the cloth as he slowly begins shaking in rage, throwing the now stained fabric harshly on top of the table. The high backed chair he had been sitting in scrapes loudly against the marble as he suddenly stands to his feet.

For the first time in his life, Seonghwa allows his throne to fall to the floor.

“It doesn’t work like that, James.” Seonghwa sneers, his eyes flashings violently as black veins begin to trickle out over the skin of his cheeks. Cracks appear throughout the wood as he leans forward to slam his hands on the top of the table, every soul present jumping at the loud bangthat echoes throughout the room. “You have three seconds to rectify this misdeed before I make minced meat out of both you and that hag who has the unfortunate displeasure of calling you her mate.”

James’ wife glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. Fear is clear on her features, her hand holding the gun to your head faltering as she begins to shake.

Not even Maria’s magic can help them now.

“One.”

“James…” Uncertainty lingers in her tone, eyes darting between the two vampires in the room.

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” James throws her a brief look before turning to sneer at the man bracing himself against the top of the table. “He’s bluffing.”

“I can assure you that those who thought the very same are more than six feet under by now.” Seonghwa rebuttals. “Two.”

“Maybe we should rethink-“

“Too late.” A malicious grin pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, his eyes crazed. “Three.”

A bullet whizzes through the room, striking James’ wife right between the eyes.

“Maria!” James can only watch in despair as her lifeless body falls to the floor with a loud thud. He rounds on the kingpin whom looks exceptionally pleased with himself, a large smile full of nothing but pure insanity stretched across his cursed lips. “You bastard! You’ll pay for this!”

James manages to pull out his own gun. The barrel barely touches your head before it’s shot right out of his hand. You manage to jump away, another bullet sinking into the man’s upper thigh and pushing him further from your form. The man immediately recoils in pain, grabbing his bleeding hand as his legs shake, barely able to support himself on his own two feet for much longer.

Slowly, Seonghwa walks out from behind the table. Each step is meticulous, echoing off of the cold marble as another bullet sinks into James’ left knee. The pathetic excuse of a vampire immediately goes tumbling to the ground, crying out in agony as his body contorts in response to his new wounds.

Blood spills over the once clean floor as James looks up at the man he attempted to blackmail.

“Oh, James… James, James, James.” Seonghwa tuts, shaking his head in disappointment as he crouches beside the male withering in agony. A harsh grip in his hair forces James to meet the mobsters unforgiving glare. “You should have known better than to try and pull something on me.”

Seonghwa throws James unceremoniously onto the floor before standing back to his full height. Nothing but the utmost disgust rests on his features, glaring down at the trembling vampire in pure malice. Fangs are bared in a silent, mocking snarling, Seonghwa using the tip of his loafer against James’ forehead to harshly push him backwards.

Wiping his hands on his front, the Wonderland leader is quick to straighten out his waistcoat.

“I’m going to enjoy destroying you.” Seonghwa’s voice is nothing but a calm timbre as he looks down upon his prey. That familiar malicious grin tugs at Seonghwa’s features, and James finally understands what it means to make a deal with the devil. “Count yourself lucky that I have much more important matters to attend to right now.”

Without sparing another glance at the vampire slowly bleeding out in his dining room, Seonghwa turns his back towards the dying man. The click of his shoes echo throughout the dining room, each step seeming to mock his enemy. 

Both Yunho and Jongho have appeared by now, each male standing on either side of you. Their eyes are hard, glaring at the man on the floor for even daring to touch Seonghwa’s Queen.

James can only watch on as Seonghwa wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you through a separate set of doors. Yunho and Jongho, the most notorious for their brutal interrogation and torture tactics, begin stalking towards their newest prey.

The last thing you see of the vampire that kidnapped you is a look of terrified realization painting his features as the two others close in on him.

Once the door to the hallway you now find yourself in is shut, you let out a small breath of relief. Seonghwa’s touch is nothing short of comforting as he keeps his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you gently towards your private quarters. You can feel the way his fingers tremble against your skin; the only indication of his true emotions throughout this entire situation.

“A bath has already been drawn. Towels, as well as the proper medical supplies have been laid out for you both.” One of the head servants quickly falls into step just behind the two of you. “Mingi and Yeosang have been stationed at the first check point. Wooyoung and Hongjoong have taken the liberty to stand post outside your bed chambers. One in the hall, the other on the balcony. San will remain on watch with both Chris and Minho on the roof.”

A gruff nod is all Seonghwa gives in response, not allowing for even a hint of emotion except for displeased anger to appear on his features.

“I want to know who let that bastard so much as even look at my wife. Get the names of everyone who allowed this to happen immediately. Gouge their eyes out. Cut off their tongues. Then, feed them their severed fingers one by one.” There is no room for argument in Seonghwa’s tone, his gaze fixated on the hallway in front of you. “Do not stop until they are found, and properly disposed of. You all know the consequences. It’s time to deliver them.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant nods once firmly in understanding, swiftly turning on their heel to relay the message to the Hounds.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Seonghwa pauses just before the door to your shared quarters, turning to glance back at the servant from over his shoulder. “Tell San: ‘nice shots.’”

Another verbal confirmation is given before the servant is running off, leaving the two of you alone for the time being. Not even a moment later, Seonghwa is quick to shove through the door of your bedroom. He guides you gently inside before making extra sure all of the locks are all sliding into place. All of the curtains are drawn, the soft glow of the lamps soon flickering to life.

A breath of relief escapes you as you walk a bit further into your private quarters. Finally, you allow yourself to relax, knowing you’re now completely safe. One hand comes up to rub your shoulder, rolling it lightly beneath your touch as a dull ache begins to throb just beneath your skin.

“Well, today has been a day,” You huff, exhaling a low sigh through your nose. “I-“

Turning back to face Seonghwa, the rest of your words catch in your throat.

Never before have you seen your husband like this. Never, in all of the years that you’ve been together, have you seen him look this vulnerable. This scared.

Tears stream silently down his face, his lips parted slightly. He stands frozen to his spot like a statue, none of that familiar warmth he usually holds for you in his dark eyes. Instead, a complete look of devastation pulls at his every feature, his breathing shallow, and broken.

In a few steps, he closes the short distance between your two bodies. Trembling hands come up to cradle your face, fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your cheeks. His gaze flits everywhere over your beaten and bloody features, tracing over the largest cut he can see resting just above your eyebrow.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Another tear slides down his cheek, his throat working as a plethora of emotions flash across his features. “Darling, I’m so-“

“Don’t do that to yourself, Hwa.” Your hands come up to gently rest on top of his own. “I wasn’t worried. I knew My Star would save me.”

Slowly, thanks to the comfort of your touch, his hands stop trembling.

“How can you be so calm right now?” His gaze searches your face, holding onto you a little tighter. “You could have died! I could have-”

His throat works, the mere idea too unbearable to even conceive.

He didn’t lose you. He can never lose you.

“Because I trust you, My Love.” You offer him a soft smile. “I have faith in my husband, even when he doesn’t have faith in himself. I know he’ll always protect me. A few scrapes and bruises here and there are nothing compared to the scars that line his body just so that he can keep me safe.”

“I will gladly bleed for you if it meant you never getting into harm’s way. Ever.” Tilting his head forward, he rests his forehead against your own.

“I know, Hwa,” A loving smile tugs onto your features. “A mosquito can’t bite me without incurring your wrath.”

“Because nothing deserves to touch you except me.” He lowers his voice, taking on a slight gravelly edge as he stares deeply into your eyes. One hand comes down to slip around your waist, pulling you closer as his touch settles against your lower back. After a moment, he adds a bit more lightheartedly, “And those you approve of. Clothes are walking a thin line, though.” At your quirked brow, he’s quick to remind you, “Don’t worry, My Love. I haven’t forgotten your lecture about respecting your mind and body, along with your autonomy. I will always respect you.”

“There he is.” A giggle escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. “There’s the man I always fall deeper in love with. Every. Single. Day.”

Seonghwa leans forward, nudging his nose so tenderly against your own. “I strive to always be the only love in your life, just as you are mine.”

“You are, My Love,” A soft hum escapes you, tilting your head slightly to peck his lips. “You’re my one and only.”

You barely have time to blink before Seonghwa is pressing his lips against yours. Both of his hands slide around your back, digging his fingers into your skin and pulling you flush against himself. His tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You eagerly grant it to him, hearing a content hum escape him as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“My Glorious Queen,” He growls against your lips. “Always, you will be mine.”

“Yours, My King,” A pleased sigh is breathed against him.

“Come,” Seonghwa pulls away from you, guiding you towards the ensuite with an arm wrapped securely around your waist. “Let me wash that vile creature from your skin.”

“Please.”

Eagerly, you both enter the bathroom to see the large tub steaming with fresh water. Bubbles lightly float against the opaque surface, a pink hue to the contents as the scent of cherry blossoms float through the air. Perched on a small podium resides a med-kit. Two large, fluffy towels rest off to the side. One with his personal crest embroidered into the fabric, the other with yours.

Grabbing a small hand towel from the vanity, Seonghwa is quick to wet the material. Turning back to face you, he begins gently washing the dried blood and dirt from your face. It only takes him a few minutes to do so, discarding of the towel and turning you both towards the tub.

A large sigh is breathed through your nose, shoulders drooping ever so slightly.

“Is something wrong, My Love?”  Seonghwa steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Soft kisses are placed along the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face into you gently.

“No.” Lightly, you shake your head. “I’d just prefer to shower than to sit in the tub, is all. I feel bad for letting such a luxury go to waste.”

“Nothing is too much for you, Darling,” A tender kiss is placed above your pulse before the sound of the water draining from the tub greets your ears.

You barely even felt him move.

“You spoil me.” An affectionate gleam shines within your eyes, the corners of your lips quirking upwards slightly.

“As I should.” Another gentle nuzzle is given into the side of your neck, Seonghwa gently turning you both to face the mirror. “You deserve nothing but the best. If I can’t spoil you, then what kind of husband am I?”

“Mine.” Your hand comes up to settle gently against his arms still wrapped around your waist.

A pleasant hum sounds from behind you.

“I can accept that.” Seonghwa tightens his grip around you. “What I can’t accept is you smelling like another man, especially while hurt. Here I am, promising to always take care of you, and I haven’t even healed any of your injuries yet.”

“They’re not that bad-“

“Bullshit.” The way his lips curl over his fangs can be seen in the reflection of the mirror before you. “Anything that dares to mar your beautiful skin, other than my own claims, will not live to survive another day.”

His one arm holds you firmly in place as he brings his opposite wrist up to his mouth. With one sharp bite, blood begins to drip from his skin, bringing the fresh wound to your lips.

“Drink.”

Immediately, you do as told.

The smooth liquid slides over your tongue and down your throat, a sweet taste flooding your mouth with every gulp. You’ve drank from him quite a few times before, but that still never prepares you for the sensation of his blood overtaking your every sense. Your vision sharpens, scents and sounds becoming that much clearer the more you drink. It’s addicting, and no one knows this fact more than him.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut. The feeling of you suckling at his wrist causes a thrill of pleasure to surge through his entire being. Every time he feels your lips on his skin, his soul comes alive. The intimacy alone of sharing such an important life source with each other has always meant more to him than he could ever describe. Though, he wishes the circumstances were a bit more pleasant.

Blood is addictive. He should know. Yours is the most fulfilling, deliciously divine taste he’s ever had the pleasure to sample. Other than the nectar that flows from between your legs, of course.

Seonghwa can never get enough of you, not that he’d ever want to. The only thing more satisfying to him than calling you his is the fact that only he gets to touch you. Only he gets to experience every glorious instance with you. Others may look, but they can never have you.

The mere image of that thing having touched you… having hurt you, makes his blood boil. The fact that someone actually got close enough to do so has him already formulating a new plan for your protection.

You are now hardly ever to leave his side, two or more of his own personal guard with you at all times. No exceptions. Seonghwa can never let something like this happen again.

Time for him to restate his claim.

Slowly, Seonghwa begins stripping you of your clothing. The more he removes, the more eager he becomes, nearly tearing the fabric at the seams to expose more of your naked body to him. The small cuts that litter your skin begin to close, and he watches in smug satisfaction as his blood heals you in real time. His fingers trace over every inch of your bare skin that he can reach, admiring how your scents begin to intermingle the more you drink.

As it should be. He should always be covered in you, and you should always be covered in him.

Finally, you part from him with a gasp, some of his blood clinging to the corners of your lips. Eagerly, your tongue darts out to catch those lingering drops, humming contently at the taste. The way he watches your eyes hood over in the mirror as you stand naked in front of him has another pleased rumble shaking his chest.

“Allow me to replace such abhorrent marks with beautiful ones of my own.”

“I look forward to it, My King.” You coo, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle against his own.

Another pleased hum fills the air, a playful nip being given over your jawline.

Slowly, reluctantly, Seonghwa lets you slip out of his arms. Dark eyes flash, a low growl echoing throughout the room as he watches your naked form slip into the shower. Most, if not all of your previous injuries have already healed, pride swirling within his chest at how well he can care for you.

The sound of running water soon fills his ears, steam beginning to fill the bathroom as he strips himself of his ruined clothes. Your eyes follow his every movement through the glass, drinking in the way his skin slowly reveals itself to you. He knows you’re watching him. You can tell from the way he faces towards you, each movement purposeful as he slides off his waistcoat, loosening his tie in the next second. Once he’s slide the thin material from around his neck, he tosses it to the floor in one fluid movement. 

Slowly, Seonghwa begins unbuttoning his white shirt, red splatters staining the material.

Water flows over your skin, the heat helping to wash away the dried blood and dirt clinging to your body. It helps to relax your tight muscles, letting out a soft sigh in content. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, watching as your husband pops the button of his slacks, kicking off his shoes and making short work of the rest of his clothing. He takes his time to run his fingers through his long, bleached hair, the strands having come loose from his sleek, slicked back appearance due to your previous ministrations.

A smug look pulls at his features, lips tugging upwards in the corner as he begins stalking towards you. Each movement is slow, stepping inside the large shower and closing the glass door behind him purposefully. Those dark eyes of his drink in every inch of your naked body, shamelessly trailing over every dip and curve that he can see.

The tattoo he can see resting proudly over the side of your ribcage has that familiar sense of pride swirling within his chest. A tattoo which matches his own.

Seonghwa licks his lips.

“Allow me to cleanse you, My Queen,” Lowly, his voice rumbles out, closing the distance between the both of you in a few steps.

Your hands settle onto his shoulders as he slips his one arm around your waist. A soft inhale escapes you as he pulls you flush against his chest, never once breaking eye contact. Gently, he brings the fingers of his free hand up to cradle your chin, leaning in to press his lips against your own.

The kiss is nothing more than a brief, loving display of affection, Seonghwa parting from you after a moment. Only, he doesn’t step away. Instead, he tilts his forehead to rest against your own, his touch disappearing from beneath your chin. 

Without so much as turning his gaze away, he reaches for the fresh washcloth that always hangs just off to the side.

The arm he has wrapped around your waist begins to slide downwards as he wets the cloth, a firm squeeze being given to your ass. The small peep of surprise you let out makes him smirk, beginning to massage your flesh so tenderly in his hand. A pleased growl escapes him as your body jerks forward, pressing yourself even firmer against his own.

Seonghwa is meticulous as he lathers the cloth with his own body wash, soon beginning to drag the material over your skin. Slowly.

Your eyes flutter as nothing but both his scent, and his touch, surrounds you. You’ve always loved his soap, the deep musk making your head spin. 

A fact of which he knows, for he only started wearing it for you.

Anything and everything to make you fall for him. To make you his. Once Park Seonghwa sets his sights on something, he will not stop until he gets exactly what he wants. Seonghwa wanted you, - he needed you - and you are exactly what he got.

Each touch is soft, starting at your shoulders and making his way down your body. Not once does he break eye contact with you, having spent countless of hours mapping out every beautiful dip and curve beneath his fingertips. 

Seonghwa knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows exactly where to touch to elicit certain reactions, and he takes full advantage of such knowledge now.

The cloth is dragged so lovingly over your back, his opposite hand giving your ass another appreciative squeeze before sliding up your spine.

The way you shiver beneath his touch makes him smirk.

Slowly, Seonghwa brings the cloth back upwards, teasing over your shoulders before lifting your one hand with his own. Wordlessly, he intertwines your fingers together, dragging the cloth over your arm. Switching hands, he’s quick to repeat the same actions on the opposite side, letting you feel his love for you, his desire, in every touch.

Still, he does not dare to tear his gaze from yours.

Your breathing deepens, heart fluttering inside of your chest. From the way his eyes shine, you can tell that he can hear every reaction his ministrations cause your body to make. The way your nails dig slightly into the skin of his shoulders once you place your hands back onto him says it all.

Tracing the cloth back up your arm, Seonghwa swipes it gently over your upper chest. His own breathing deepens as he slides his touch down to cup your breast, his free hand coming up to cup the other. A firm, appreciative squeeze is given to both, a low moan falling from his parted lips.

For a brief moment, his gaze flicks downwards. Using his thumb and forefinger on his one hand, he gently tweaks at your nipple. The other brushes over your opposite breast, lathering the soap over your skin while his thumb teases over your opposite nipple through the cloth.

A soft, pleased hum escapes you, lashes fluttering as you revel in his touch. You cannot help but arch into him, his hands burning paths of pleasure across your skin. 

Water continues to softly cascade down your body, washing the soap away shortly after coming into contact with your flesh. No part of you goes untouched, Seonghwa making sure he cleanses your body thoroughly. He doesn’t want there to be any reminders left from what happened earlier in the day. Right now, all that should cover you is him.

Slowly, Seonghwa sinks to his knees.

A halo of kisses are placed over your stomach, soft moans breathed against your skin. Those dark eyes of his glance up at you periodically, lashes fluttering after each press of his lips against you.

Your husband can never get enough of you. Right now, he wants even more.

“I can never get over how euphoric touching you is, My Love,” Another wet, open mouthed kiss is pressed against your stomach. “Fuck- I love your body… So perfect… So soft…” A blissful sigh is breathed over your skin. “Love making you shake in ecstasy, claiming you for the whole world to see…”

Your breath hitches softly as both of his hands come around to cup your ass, squeezing your flesh so delicately.

A pleased hum rumbles from deep within his chest, devolving into a low chuckle.

“See?” Fangs nip lovingly at your skin, Seonghwa dragging the cloth over the curve your ass. Occasionally, he’ll give you another appreciative squeeze, nuzzling almost possessively into your stomach. “How could I ever want to stop touching you? Your body knows who it belongs to… Who you belong to… Isn’t that right, My Love?”

Seonghwa peeks up at you from on his knees. His eyes are dark and dangerous, a predatory look swirling deep within his gaze. There’s no room for argument in his tone, the cloth getting tossed to the side as his touch returns to your skin, gripping at your thighs tightly.

A thrill rushes through your body, clenching lightly around nothing as he stares up at you. You know that look all too well, your hands automatically reaching out to begin combing your fingers through his damp hair.

Only, it seems as if Seonghwa doesn’t appreciate your prolonged silence.

“I asked you a question, My Love,” A low, warning growl builds in his throat. 

Suddenly, you find that he’s turned you so that your back is pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His fingers sink almost unforgivingly into your plush flush, dragging the nails of his one hand down your skin and hoisting your thigh over his shoulder. 

“Tell me who you belong to.” Lips curl over fangs, black veins crackling over the skin of his cheeks. “Come on, Pretty Girl. I need to hear you say it.”

The sight alone causes your heart to flutter, breath hitching slightly as you stare down at him.

“I’m yours, My Star,” You coo, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. “I belong to you. Everything I am, everything I was or am sure to be, is yours.”

The feral snarl that reverberates against the tiles of the shower sends pleasure flooding through your veins. Dark, ravenous eyes stare up at you, irises bleeding red as white sclera shift into the deepest of voids. Seonghwa’s lips curl upwards, pulling back to expose his fangs as he slides his hands over your sides.

“Good Girl.” A sharp nip is given to your inner thigh, a small trail of blood beginning to drip down your skin. One which he is more than eager to trace with his tongue.

A thrill rushes through you, loving the deep growl that lines his voice. A tone you know all too well, affection lingering beneath every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, pausing all movements as you yank his head back so he’s forced to look up at you. The same dark look that he wears is reflected on your own features, grinning as you hear a guttural groan part his plush lips.

“And who is it that worships the very ground I walk on? Who belongs to me? Who is it that will only ever belong to me?” 

The intensity in your eyes makes him shiver, his cock twitching against his thigh. Already, precome leaks from the tip, his heart beating alongside your own. He holds onto you tighter, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as a desperate moan escapes him.

“I will only ever belong to you, My Love.” Seonghwa rasps, beginning to trail wet, open mouthed kisses up the skin of your inner thigh. “I’m yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”

“That’s right, My King,” You hum, a sultry grin tugging at your lips. “You’re mine.”

“Forevermore, My Queen,” His eyes flash, nosing closer towards the apex of your thighs. “Fuck- you smell incredible… Need to make sure you always smell like me, so everyone knows who you belong to. No one- No-fucking-one is ever going to take you away from me again.”

With those words, Seonghwa slips his hands back around to your ass, burying his face into your cunt. 

A pleased growl escapes him as his nose slips between your folds, fingers sinking unforgivingly into the plump flesh of your ass. He pulls you even closer, nuzzling against you before teasingly swirling his tongue around your entrance. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit, his lips laving over your cunt before suckling harshly at your folds.

You toss your head back against the wall, fingers immediately tangling in his hair. The way you pull him in closer to you makes him moan against your core, his hot breath making your head spin as he traces his tongue over your slit. Soft pants fall from your lips as he places sloppy, wet kisses all over your cunt, making sure no part of you goes untouched.

Slowly, he dips his tongue between your folds, holding your gaze as he licks a firm strip up from your entrance to your clit. The tip of his tongue immediately begins flicking rapidly over that pert little bud before his lips are wrapping around it, suckling eagerly at that sensitive little bundle of nerves.

The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased hum rumbling from within his chest.

Each movement is messy. For the moment, Seonghwa is more focussed on covering his face in the wetness that drips from your cunt. He wants to smell like you, to bathe himself in your scent as he covers you in his. He needs it. Especially after seeing such a vile creature dare to lay their filthy hands on you.

Another firm squeeze is given to your ass, Seonghwa pulling you even closer against his lips. Those dark, ravenous eyes of his drink in each and every expression you offer him, desperate for more. Eagerly, he traces his tongue over every inch of your pussy, beginning to thrust it as deep as he can within you.

Soft pants and stuttering moans escape your parted lips. Nothing but absolute pleasure floods your veins, skin tingling everywhere he touches. The fingers you have tangled in his hair pull him in even closer, beginning to grind lightly against his lips as he desperately thrusts his tongue into your weeping entrance.

“Oh, fuck- just like that, Hwa- Oh!” Your lashes flutter, beginning to feel that familiar pressure building within your lower abdomen. “Don’t fucking stop!”

A snarl of agreement reverberates against your cunt, Seonghwa pressing himself even firmer into you. The tip of his nose bumps continuously over your clit, jolts of pleasure sending shockwaves throughout your entire body as your moans begin to rise in pitch.

“Fuck- make me come, My Star,” You pant out, staring down at him through hooded eyes. “Make me drip all over your pretty face.”

“With pleasure…” 

The words are growled against your core, Seonghwa immediately shaking his head back and forth. His fingers dig unforgivingly into the skin of your ass, swirling his tongue inside of you as his nose presses firmly against your clit. The tip of his tongue soon focusses on tracing along the top of your inner walls, thrusting desperately as he moans into you.

With one final nudge over your clit, your eyes are fluttering shut. Your orgasm washes over you like a wave upon the shore, body thrumming in ecstasy as you arch from the wall. Lightly, your thighs shake, Seonghwa not relenting for even one second as he prolongs your pleasure for as long as he possibly can.

Though, you know that this is far from over. After all, he’s only just begun.

Just as with every other time when he’s eaten you out, Seonghwa does not stop here. In fact, he only redoubles his efforts over you. Black veins pulse over his cheeks as he laves his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, making sure no drop goes to waste. 

He needs all of you. He craves it, like the very air you need to breathe.

Lips wrap around your sensitive clit, suckling eagerly at that pert bud as he balances you against the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, two fingers spreading you open to give him unrestricted access to your weeping cunt. Not even a moment later, he flattens his tongue, rubbing it in firm circles over your clit.

“Oh- Fuck!” Your eyes roll, heavy pants escaping you as you’ve barely had time to recover from your previous orgasm. Pleasure pools in your core, clenching hard around nothing as Seonghwa focusses all of his attention on your clit. “Hah- Hah- My Love- Oh!”

“More.” The firm command is growled against your throbbing clit. “Give me more.”

The lewd, wet sounds that fill the air make your head spin, Seonghwa shameless as he traces his tongue over every inch of your cunt. Pleased hum and deep moans escape him, bringing the tip back up to circle so tenderly over your clit before suckling that pert bud between his lips.

“Seonghwa…” His name is but a pleasant sigh from your lips, eyes hooding over as you stare down at your husband feasting on your cunt so ravenously. “My Love…”

“Come for me,” Those sharp eyes of his glance up at you, sucking your clit firmly between his lips. “Soak my face, Beloved. Bathe me in your sweet nectar and claim what rightfully belongs to you.”

His words have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, body shaking as with one final flick over your clit, your orgasm crashes into you. Loud moans and high pitched whines escape you, head spinning as he supports you against the wall. Nothing but pure euphoria floods your veins, chest rising and falling dramatically as heavy pants fall from your lips with every breath.

“Mmmh, that’s it, My Queen,” Seonghwa hums, chuckling lowly. Tender kisses are placed over your swollen clit, smirking against your core with every twitch he feels against his lips. “So fucking beautiful…”

This time, he slows his pace.

Soft, wet kisses are trailed over the skin of your inner thigh, his fangs nibbling at your flesh. Occasionally, he grazes you enough to cause blood to swell on the surface, his tongue quick to lap up each drop. The fingers he had been using to keep you spread open trace over the edges of your cunt, dipping down to tease lightly at your entrance.

A soft moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him push the tips of his fingers inside of you, only to remove them in the next second.

“Seonghwa-“

The desperate whine of his name gets caught in your throat, which is simply music to his ears.

“What’s that?” He hums, continuing to tease at your entrance by dipping his fingers into you gently. Only, he never pushes them more than a knuckle deep, pulling them out to trace the tips so lovingly over your folds. “Does My Pretty Girl want to come again?”

Lightly, you squirm in his hold, whimpering as you stare down at him.

“Needy girl,” Seonghwa chuckles, slowly kissing his way back up your thigh.

The one leg you still have supporting yourself on the ground begins to shake. 

“Please-“  Your voice catches, hips jerking forwards in an attempt to push his fingers deeper inside of you.

“Does My Love want me to devour her pretty pussy?” A tender nuzzle is given against the skin of your inner thigh. “Will she not be satiated unless I make her squirt all over my face? Will she not be satisfied until I make her mine?”

“Fuck- Seonghwa-“ Your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his gaze to yours as you tilt his head upwards. Something within your eyes flash, clenching hard enough around nothing to cause yourself to begin leaking prominently over your thighs. “Make me yours. Right. Fucking. Now. I need you…“

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa has stood back to his feet. Both of your legs are wrapped around his waist as he pins you against the wall, fingers digging harshly into the skin of your thighs. Not even a moment later, he slides his touch upwards, grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing at your flesh.

There is nowhere for you to go. Nowhere to run or hide, for you will forever be trapped in his embrace. Seonghwa has made damn sure of that.

Not that you’d ever want to leave him…

The tip of his hard cock nudges at your dripping entrance, slipping between your folds as he pushes as close to you as possible. Each breath is but a low snarl upon his lips, black veins crackling over his cheeks. The look in his eyes is downright predatory, fangs on full display as he stares you down.

“You’re mine.”

With those words, Seonghwa buries himself deep inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, creating a brutal pace as he snaps his hips against your own.

A choked moan parts your lips, eyes rolling slightly as you cling to him. Your nails scratch down his back, each growl he breathes out going straight to your core as you clench tightly around his cock. The familiar stretch of him sinking into your core makes your head spin, pulling him in even closer.

“Fuckin’ perfect, Darling,” Seonghwa breathes, his forehead pressed against your own. Those dark eyes of his stare intensely into yours, fingers digging into your ass as he snaps his hips into you. “Your pretty pussy always sucks me in so well. My Pretty Girl is always ready to bounce on my cock, isn’t she? So wet… So tight.”

“It’s because I was made for you, My Star,” You exhale shakily, lashes fluttering as your tongue darts out over your lips. “You always fill me so well, My Love. Feels incredible having you buried inside of me. I can’t help but feel empty without you.”

“It’s because I was made for you, Darling,” The words are a mere rasp on his lips, slowing his movements only briefly in order to circle his hips so lovingly against your own. The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased rumble shaking his chest. “Feel that? Feel how perfectly your pussy moulds around my cock? I never wish to part from you, My Love. You own my heart, and I never want it back.”

“Seonghwa-“ A soft whine escapes you as a sharp thrust is given into you. The wet squelch you can hear each time he buries himself deep inside of you makes you clench, pleasure thrumming throughout your veins. 

The tip of his cock presses so tenderly against that special spot inside of you, Seonghwa having mapped out every inch of your body multiple times. His only desire right now is to please you. As is his every desire. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and feeling you drip all over his cock while screaming his name is ecstasy of the highest order.

“You can never escape me, Beloved,” A sharp nip is given to your ear as he leans into you, his voice but a low rumble on his lips. “The moment you let me slip that ring on your finger, you became mine. If you ever even attempt to leave me, if anyone so much as dares to take you away again, I will chase you to the very ends of the earth. You’re mine.” Another sharp thrust is given into you, emphasizing his every word. “You belong to me, just as I belong to you. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Until the very end.”

“All yours, Seonghwa,” You sigh, purposely squeezing around his cock. The way he grinds himself so lovingly into you makes you hum. “Always, I am yours, just as you will forever be mine.”

“That’s right, Pretty Girl,” A pleased chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest. “We belong to each other. Forevermore.”

Shifting your hand upwards, your fingers tangle in his hair. In one quick move, you guide his lips to yours, kissing him desperately as he begins rolling his hips so sensually into your own. Each thrust fills your cunt with every inch of his cock, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as you part for him.

The change in pace makes your head spin, pleasure pooling within your core as you drip all over his cock.

Soft whines and gentle moans are breathed into each other’s mouths, hands desperately gripping at each other’s bodies. You hook your ankles behind his back, thighs tensing as you pull him in closer.

The way your body presses flush against his own, every glorious curve of yours being felt against his skin, makes him moan. To him, there’s no other feeling quite like it. Your body sets his own on fire, soul coming alight with every touch.

“I fucking love you, My Queen,” Seonghwa mumbles against your lips, nipping lightly at your skin.

A soft moan tumbles from you lips, clenching hard around him as he thrusts sharply into you.

“As I love you, My One and Only King.”

Pleased rumbles fill the air, a deep moan of your name being breathed out by the vampire before you. He holds onto you so tightly, as if you may disappear at any moment. Desperate, deprived, and possessive. Only you can make him this way.

Though his pace has slowed, each tender thrust into you is firm. Seonghwa makes sure to fill you with every inch of his cock, loving how your warmth flutters around him each time. The way you drip over his balls and onto his thighs makes his head spin, swallowing all of your melodic whimpers and whines as he kisses you deeply.

“Seonghwa-“ You gasp into his mouth at one particularly hard thrust. When he immediately grinds his hips into you, the tip of his cock pressing so delicately against that special spot, your eyes roll slightly. “Right fucking there, My King- Oh!“

A pleased hum echoes around you, another sharp thrust given into you. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that spot, pride rumbling within his chest as he listens to the way your breath catches in your throat..

“Oh-“ Your walls clench tightly around him, digging your nails harshly into the skin of his back. “Claim me, My Love. Fucking mark your territory so no one dares to take me away from you again.”

The deepest of snarls you’ve ever heard him emit fills your ears, echoing around the tiles of the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned beneath him on your bed. Water drips from both of your bodies into the sheets, wet strands of his silver blond hair clinging to his skin. Each strand accents his features, serving as nothing more than a bright halo beautifully framing his face.

“With the utmost of pleasure, My Queen.” 

The deep snarl that lines his every word is the most feral you’ve ever heard him get. It goes straight to your core, clenching hard around him as he begins that brutal pace once more. Tingles erupt over your skin, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure he provides.

“Not gonna fucking stop until you’ve creamed all over this cock, Beloved. Gonna fill you so fuckin’ full of my seed, I’m gonna be dripping out of your precious cunt for weeks.” His hands grip your wrists tightly, pinning your arms above your head as he thrusts relentlessly into you. The way your body shakes, tits bouncing with every snap of his hips into your own makes nothing but love, lust, and pride swell within his chest. “Gonna let the whole world know who you belong to, and who belongs to you. There won’t be a living soul in this universe that will ever touch you again, besides me. They won’t dare. You’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tears of pleasure begin flooding your vision as that familiar pressure builds rapidly within you. You can barely keep your eyes open to stare into his captivating gaze, harsh pants and high pitched whines escaping your lips with every desperate thrust he gives into you. “I’m yours, Seonghwa! All yours! Always and forever, My Star! Make me yours so I can make you mine!”

Another feral snarl greets your ears, his lips immediately finding your own. His kiss is nothing but desperate, tongue slipping into your mouth as he moans into the kiss.

In one swift movement, Seonghwa shifts to hold both of your wrists above you with his one hand. The other drags lovingly over your body, tracing over every curve delicately. His fingertips tease at your skin, continuing to slide his touch everywhere over your body. A tender caress is given over your stomach, the soft touch contrasting the animalistic way he fucks into you. 

With one final squeeze to your stomach, he drags his hand further downwards, thumb finding your clit and beginning to rub in small circles.

“Oh!” Your back arches from the bed, eyes fluttering closed as your whole body begins to shake. Your thighs tremble around his waist, squeezing so tightly around his cock as that pressure within you gets close to snapping. You do your best to hold back your impending orgasm for as long as you can, needing to feel him filling you full of his come before you can even think of letting yourself go. “Seonghwa- My King! Please-“

“Come for me, Darling.” There is no room for argument, his words but a command on his lips. Wet, sloppy kisses are placed against the skin of your pulse as he buries his face into the side of your neck. “Fucking flood my cock with your love. I want to hear you scream.”

With one final flick over your clit, your body obeys his every command. What serves to make the feeling all the more intense is when you feel him bite into the side of your neck, his fangs sinking into your soft flesh and drinking his fill of your blood.

A scream of his name tears from your throat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your squirt all over his cock. You keen from the bed, whole body trembling violently as you feel him pin your hips to the mattress with his own. Spurt after spurt of come escapes him as he fills you to the brim, your walls fluttering around his cock as your combined releases begin to leak out of your core.

Heavy pants escape you, nothing but whines falling from your lips. The intensity of your orgasm washes over you, suspended in a pool of bliss as you feel Seonghwa press himself completely against you. Not an inch of your body goes untouched by him, releasing his hold over your wrists in order to gently begin tracing his hands over your sides.

Soft kisses are trailed over your neck, his tongue coming out to lave over the fresh bite mark that rests proudly against your skin. The pleased hum that rumbles from deep within his chest makes you smile, staring up at him through hooded eyes as he pulls away to admire you beneath him.

Before he even gets a chance to say anything, you beat him to it.

“Turn me.”

To say your words catch him off guard would be an understatement.

This time, it’s Seonghwa’s turn for his breath to hitch. The vampire lord stills above you, staring down at you with wide eyes as he sees the sincerity reflected on your features.

“My Love?” His words are but a breathless whisper as he brings a hand up to cradle the side of your face.

“I want you to turn me.” Slowly, carefully, you bring your own hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb traces over his skin, admiring the man above you. A soft, tender smile pulls at your lips, eyes flicking between his own. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but it was simply never the right time. I’m ready now. I love you, Park Seonghwa. You are my forever. I’m ready to become yours.”

Tears begin building within his eyes, blinking rapidly as the first drops begin to fall gently against your skin. His throat works, hands fumbling over your body as he presses impossibly closer to you. Tenderly, he cups your face, lips finding yours in a searing kiss. A kiss which he hopes will convey everything he wishes to say to you.

The moment you smile against his lips, he knows that it does.

“I love you.” A choked confession parts his lips, placing intermittent kisses against your own before trailing even more along your cheek and over your pulse. Arms slide around you, hugging you close as he buries his face within the crook of your neck. A lingering kiss is pressed against the fresh bite mark adorning your skin. “I love you so fucking much.”

Without hesitating, you wrap your own back around him, holding him close. The fingers of your one hand come back up to thread through his wet hair softly. You cradle him to your chest, refusing to let him go anytime soon as your heart beats steadily for the man held within your loving arms.

Kisses are soon trailed from your neck and down over your chest, Seonghwa nuzzling affectionately over your heart. He buries his face against you, soon turning to rest his ear directly above that muscle pumping rhythmically beneath your skin.

A tender glance upwards is sent your way.

“Are you sure?”

You expression softens, lips tugging upwards lovingly as your whole body relaxes beneath his touch.

“More than anything, My Love,” The hand you have threading through his hair comes around to cradle the side of his face. “I never want another incident like today to occur. I despise seeing you cry, especially when I’m the cause of it.”

Seonghwa looks about ready to protest, but your finger settling gently over his lips quiets him for the time being.

“You are the love of my life, Seonghwa. I promised you forever, just as you did for me.” Gently, you trace your touch over his cheek, caressing your fingertips along his skin. Openly, you admire the beautiful man before you. “I’ve wanted this for a while now, and today only served to solidify my choice. I want to be able to claim you in the same ways that you claim me. I want to be yours. Now, and until forever.”

Pushing himself upwards with his arms, Seonghwa hovers over you. Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen within his gaze, staring down at you so fondly as he admires every inch of your skin. He takes his time trailing his eyes over your body, finally pulling out of you and sliding his palms up your sides.

He licks his lips, some remnants of your blood still clinging to his skin.

“Nothing would make me happier than spending eternity with you, My Queen.” Dark eyes shine so lovingly down at you, pressing another tender kiss to your lips. The way you smile against his skin makes his heart flutter, warmth surging throughout his entire body. 

Long since has Seonghwa dreamt of this day. Countless hours have been spent fantasizing about this very moment, bonding you to him in such an intimate way. Sure, you’ve shared each other’s blood enough times before, but this is different. Now, you will become like him.

After this, there is truly no turning back.

Soon, you’ll be able to share in even more pleasures this world has to offer, and he’ll be right by your side through it all. He’ll get to guide you through each new experience, showing you things he’s only ever dreamed about. You’ll be able to share meals with him in more intimate and fulfilling ways, teaching you the ways of his kind and revelling in each and every new discovery you make. Together.

You’ve always been quite efficient at biting and feeding from him, that he cannot wait to watch you make your first kill. 

Excitement pours through him, indescribable unconditional love flooding his veins.

Seonghwa knows exactly who that first kill should be.

A loving smile stretches onto his features, staring down at you so fondly. He can smell the way his blood courses through your veins, mixing seamlessly with your own. Softly, his hands caress over the sides of your face, searching your eyes one final time for any uncertainty or hesitance.

He finds none.

Silently, your husband vows to be the last thing you ever see in this life, and the very first thing you see in your next.

With a subtle nod of your head, another soft kiss is being placed upon your lips.

“To the start of our forever.”

Seungcheol is conscious of the fact that he’s been acting out of character ever since his wife returned from visiting her parents. Maybe he’s being too obvious about no longer wanting to stay married, but he doesn’t care. Not when making you happy is the greatest joy in his life.

“Cheolie,” you say sweetly as you gently tug on his hand to get his attention. “Look at this one! It’ll look so good on you!”

You’re giddily pointing at one of the many necklaces on display. It’s exactly the type of jewelry he likes to wear, and his heart tightens with affection at the fact that you know that. Unlike his wife.

“Sir, box this necklace up for me please,” he says to the employee attending you two without looking away from your smiling face.

“The price—”

“It’s fine,” Seungcheol waves him off without any hesitation. “I’ll pay whatever price.”

Even the man blushes when Seungcheol brings your intertwined hands to his lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of your hand. His love for you is so clear, and he thinks it’s extremely sweet that your boyfriend(?) bought every single piece of jewelry you said will look good on him without any hesitation.

“What about you, sweetheart?” Seungcheol says as he tugs you closer. “Do you want anything else?”

You tilt your head with a thoughtful hum. The cute bracelet and matching rings were enough for you, but there is something else you want. Something that only Seungcheol could get you and would mean more to you than the things you picked out.

“Will you choose something for me?”

Seungcheol’s heart stutters at the way you blink up at him, eyes shining with affection and anticipation. There’s no way he could ever say no to you, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you going around wearing something he chose for you. So he pulls you to the opposite end of the counter where the more expensive items are at.

After you’re done, Seungcheol savors the walk to the car. Your hand in his feels so right. It’s almost like his hand was made to fit with yours. Even on the drive home, Seungcheol doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s not ready to yet. Knowing that he’ll have to let you go and act like you didn’t spend the day together is getting harder for him. Having to hide everything he feels for you is bothering him more and more as the days go on.

“We’re home!” You call loudly as you walk into the large foyer.

“You’re back!”

Your mom rises from the couch when you step into the living room. Immediately, she goes to hug your stepdad. You stifle a laugh when Seungcheol obviously dodges her kiss and it lands on his cheek instead. Your mom frowns but doesn’t say anything. Instead she focuses on all the shopping bags in her husband’s hands.

“What’s all this?” She glances up at her husband before looking back at you. “Did you ask Seungcheol to take you shopping?”

“He offered,” you say casually, trying not to sound smug. “Since we’re spending next week at the villa.”

Your mom sighs and looks at her husband pointedly. “You didn’t need to buy her so many things.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Seungcheol says sincerely. “It’s the first time we’re going away together as a family, so I wanted to spoil her a little.”

Your mom frowns, but doesn’t argue. “Fine, but Y/N, at least help your stepdad with the bags!”

Seungcheol waves his wife off, assuring her once again that it’s no problem. You shrug insouciantly when your move gives you an irritated look. It’s not your fault her husband’s love language is acts of service (not that she would know). Instead of lingering downstairs so she can nag you, you follow your stepdad upstairs.

A warm feeling tugs on your chest when you see him set down all the bags beside your bed. You wonder what it would would be like to live every day like this—a life where it’s just you and him. The fleeting thought pushes you to go and hug him from behind.

Seungcheol smiles when you lean your head against him and tighten your arms around his waist.

“Thank you for my gifts, Cheolie.”

The words are spoken sincerely and with no trace of lust. Only with pure, unadulterated affection. It makes him smile wider. “You’re welcome, baby.”

You two stay like that for a while until your mom’s voice calls for her husband. A petulant frown takes over your face as you reluctantly step away from Seungcheol. It’s times like these where you wonder how much longer you can keep doing this. Sharing him wasn’t (that much of) an issue for you before, but things shifted drastically after the weekend you two spent alone. Now, Seungcheol feels more like yours than he ever has.

What you don’t realize is that your stepdad feels the same way, only his feelings are ten times more intense than your own.

That night, Seungcheol lays in bed and goes over his plan to make sure his wife doesn’t get in the way next week. He plans to have fun with you and only you. It’s the perfect opportunity to show you what a life with him will be like. By the end of the week, he knows you’ll want nothing more than to start a life where it’s just the two of you.

“Mom, it’s not a real vacation if you work the entire time,” you say with a sigh.

As usual your mom waves you off with a disinterested hum. She types away on her computer, only pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I just need to answer a few emails.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

Even though it’s such a nice day out, your mom refuses to go anywhere. The most she’s willing to do is sit out on the terrace and work. It makes you wonder why she suggested this vacation in the first place.

“Why don’t you go keep Seungcheol company?” Your mom suggests without looking up. “He’s inside watching a movie.”

You sigh again and head to the living room where your stepdad is. Licking your lips, you go over and join him on the couch. Seungcheol smiles warmly when you sit down next to him. He wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. His hand slowly trails up until his fingers are teasing your nipple. The thin sundress you’re wearing makes it easy for him to get it to pebble.

“You look so cute, princess,” Seungcheol says as he roughly squeezes your tit. “Did you wear my favorite dress on purpose?”

The devious smirk you give him makes him groan quietly. He yanks up the hem of your dress, exposing your plush thighs and bare pussy to the cool air. Seungcheol licks his lips. “Fuck. You just wanted me to see your cute little cunt, didn’t you, brat?”

“Yes,” you say as your body burns with need.

You spread your thighs, bearing your dampening cunt completely for your stepdad. Seungcheol goes to cup your pussy, thumb slowly rubbing dizzying circles on your clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he groans in delight. “What a little slut.”

You mewl as he slowly sinks two fingers into your clenching hole. A loud whine gets stuck in your throat as Seungcheol’s fingers venture deeper into your needy cunt, eagerly seeking out the spongy spot that always reduces you to a moaning mess. You rock your hips slightly as you turn your head to bury it in his broad shoulder.

“Daddy,” you whimper as his fingers flex deeper into your soaked pussy. “Make me cum.”

“Nasty girl,” Seungcheol’s smirk is wolfish as he sinks a third finger into you. “You that desperate for me?”

Your cunt throbs and releases more juices as his long fingers scissor you open. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach as your tight walls flutter around his fingers. They slowly pick up the pace, reaching the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yes—fuck. It feels so good, daddy,” you whine brokenly as your tight walls suck on his fingers.

“You’re going to get us caught if you keep being loud, baby,” Seungcheol groans as his thick cock strains against his sweatpants.

You moan softly when his fingers slide deeper inside you to press against the sensitive spot that always makes your brain shut down. He laughs in his throat when your eyes shut and your mouth drops open in a silent moan. The sound of your arousal gets louder with every passing moment. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he grabs your leg to hook it over his own to spread your pussy wider for him.

“God, just look at how wet you are,” Seungcheol uses his free hand to grab the back of your head and force you to watch as he plays with your squelching pussy. “Dripping all over my nice couch.”

“Can’t help it, daddy,” you whimper as you watch his long fingers penetrate your tight hole. “I’ll lick it clean later.”

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, cock throbbing at your filthy words. You’re both entranced with how your cream is coating his long fingers, noticeably creating a ring where his wedding band is. You can’t deny that you love how your juices stain the metal. It’s like you’re claiming his as yours.

“Nasty little slut,” Seungcheol growls as he works your pussy open. “You like daddy fingerfucking you while your mom is on the terrace?”

You close your eyes and nod dizzily.

“Keep your eyes open, brat.”

The demand is followed by a harsh slap on your cunt. Your loud cry mixes in with the lewd sounding smack. Seungcheol quickly stifles your cry by smashing his lips onto yours. He swallows all your moans and mewls as he forces his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue massages yours is enough to push you over the edge.

Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as your orgasm rips through you. Seungcheol groans into your mouth as you gush all over his fingers. Your soft cry sounds so hot, even if it is stifled by his mouth.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs adoringly as you grind into his hand. “Fuck. It’s so easy to make you cum.”

You whine when he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaking cunt. Your pussy flutters when you see sticky strings of arousal clinging to his long digits. Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk before he sucks on his fingers, groaning lowly at your sweet taste.

“Can I have your cock now, daddy?” You bat your eyelashes in the way that always gets him to do what you want.

Seungcheol immediately pulls down his sweats enough to let his cock spring free. It pulses with need as he goes to lay you on your back. Your dress is pulled higher to completely expose your messy pussy.

“Be good for me, baby,” your stepdad hisses as he rubs his leaking tip between your folds.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as Seungcheol collects your arousal on his cock. He smirks down at you before slowly easing into you. His groan makes you clamp down on him.

“Goddamn,” Seungcheol groans when he finally bottoms out. “Pretty little pussy’s always so fucking tight.”

Impatient as ever, you start to grind up into him, using his cock like a toy. Seungcheol’s eyes gleam with fondness as your juices smear all over his pelvis. He starts to move, hips grinding into yours. You moan quietly as his thick cock stretches and fills your needy hole.

“Harder, daddy,” you whine like the brat you are. “Make me cum all over your big cock.”

Seungcheol growls quietly. He loves how nasty and needy you get whenever your mom’s around. As always, he can’t deny you or himself that pleasure. Your stepdad starts fucking into you roughly, making your pretty tits bounce in your dress. He roughly yanks down the material, loving how hard your nipples are. He swoops down to suck and bite on them, hips never stopping as he fucks his thick cock into your aching cunt.

“Daddy!” You mewl, arching your back and forcing your tit deeper into his mouth.

You love how he’s fucking you like some mindless animal. His cock is drenched with your cream, completely coated to the hilt. You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot, repeatedly ramming it over and over again.

Seungcheol nips at your nipple before moving to give the other one the same attention. His heavy balls slap your ass with every thrust, and he can feel his orgasm quickly approaching.

The sound of the glass doors sliding open startles you, but not enough to tell your stepdad to stop. Seungcheol slows his movements, but makes no move to slip out of your pussy. He releases your nipple with a too loud pop and slowly straightens out. You cover your mouth with your hands, pussy clenching as you hear footsteps fade into the direction of the kitchen.

“Honey, where’s Y/N?”

Seungcheol eyes flicker down to you, cock throbbing at the sight of you all fucked out underneath him. All his wife has to do is walk in his direction to see her lovely daughter stuffed full of cock with her pretty tits out. She’d see the remnants of his spit on them and know he was licking and sucking on them like he’d never done to hers.

“She went upstairs. I think the movie bored her.”

Luckily, only your stepdad’s head and shoulders are visible from over the back of the couch. You’re completely hidden, which is why Seungcheol slowly starts to drive his girthy cock into you. You’re sure that if the movie wasn’t playing, your mom would be able to hear the lewd squelching coming from your pussy.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to have to jump on a call in a bit,” your mom says dismissively, clearly not too interested in your whereabouts. If only she knew. “I’ll be out on the terrace for a while.”

“Fine,” Seungcheol’s voice is a bit strained as his wife comes out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “Just make sure you tell your boss that this is the only call you’ll take this week.”

His hips have stopped moving by now, but the fact that you can tell your mom has come closer makes you clench down on his cock. You stifle a whine as you carefully grind on his dick. Your clit bumps against his pelvis, making your eyes cross from pleasure.

“You know I can’t do that,” your mom sounds disapproving as she looks down at her phone. “The company needs me. No one knows more about this proposal than I do.”

Using the distraction on her phone to his advantage, Seungcheol grabs your hips and pulls you down on him as he gently thrusts forward. The fat tip of his cock slams right into your sweet spot, and you can barely hold back your moan. Light tremors rake through your body as your stepdad keeps fucking you while his wife in none the wiser. His hands slip down to your thighs before he presses them into the couch to keep you spread for him.

Fuck. It’s such a filthy sight that he almost wishes his wife would see it. That way she would see for herself how much better you look taking his cock.

“Okay. Just let me know when you’re done working. Y/N wanted to go to the beach later.”

His heated gaze stays on you as his wife mumbles a dismissive agreement. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as his wife walks back out to the terrace, sliding the door closed with an audible click.

Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh and immediately goes back to pounding your hot cunt. He grabs your hips and pulls you to meet his rough thrusts. Loud squelching and skin slapping fills the large room as your ravenous stepdad uses you to get closer to his orgasm.

“God, baby. You get so tight when you think we might get caught.” Seungcheol groans loudly, knowing his wife has put in her earphones by now to focus on her meeting. “You like the idea of your mom catching you fucking her husband?”

You nod through an impetuous moan. “Yes—fuck. I wonder what she’d do if she saw how much better you like my little pussy.”

“Filthy little brat,” Seungcheol groans fondly as he keeps pumping his leaking dick into you.

“You like it too, daddy,” you moan as his frantic movements grow rougher. “Just knowing your wife might walk in and see you stretching me out on your big cock turns you on.”

Seungcheol moans, unable to deny it. He starts to rub fast circles on your raw clit, eager to get you to cum on his cock. He gives you a filthy smirk when you tighten around him again.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cream all over my cock so I can fill you up like you want?”

Your stepdad fucks into you harder when you moan out a desperate yes. He rams his cock deeper into your pussy until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. Filthy noises mix in with the forgotten movie as Seungcheol’s thick cock spears into your messy hole. His fingers play with your sensitive bud, quickly driving you over the edge from how good it all feels.

You wrap your legs around him, pussy convulsing as you cream all over his dick.

Seungcheol groans out your name, sloppily fucking you through your orgasm. Your pulsing walls grip his cock tightly, effectively milking him for his hot cum. He shoots thick ropes into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You happily take it all, loving how it drips down his cock with every needy grind. He slaps your pussy playfully before capturing your lips in another nasty kiss.

You gently nip at his soft lips, not wanting to separate from him yet. “Let’s go upstairs, daddy. We need to clean up before lunch.”

Sometimes, you wonder if your mom cares about you at all. In the morning, you wake up to a text saying she’s cutting the vacation short because an emergency came up at work. You almost think you’re still dreaming until you rub the sleep out of your eyes and read the text again.

It’s not disappointing, not exactly. From the start you knew she didn’t actually want to go on vacation. It was just another attempt to save her failing marriage, but as usual, she put her career first.

You roll out of bed and go to the master bedroom. Right away, you can tell your mom is gone. All her stuff is gone, and you wonder just how early she got up to catch a flight back home. You pout when you notice that Seungcheol also isn’t in the room. Since your mom is gone now, you had planned to wake him up with some head. Just as you contemplate your next move, you hear noise coming from downstairs.

One thing you never thought you’d see is Seungcheol standing at the stove, shirtless and only wearing pajama bottoms. He’s cooking something that smells delicious, and the fact that he looks so hot doing it just makes it even better.

You quietly walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his chiseled torso. “Morning, Cheolie.”

“Morning, baby.” He says fondly.

Your stepdad shudders when you place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. He basks in your touch, glad that you don’t immediately pull away from him now that you’re alone.

“I’m glad she’s gone,” you say after a while. “That way I can have you all to myself.”

Seungcheol knows he’s blushing, and he’s glad that you can’t see it. His heart pounds as he hums in agreement.

“We can do whatever you want, baby. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

You grin against his back, already planning the perfect day with him in your head.

After you two have breakfast, you and Seungcheol head to the beach. It’s a beautiful day out, and you love that you can openly hold his hand and be affectionate with him to your heart’s content.

“Let me put sunscreen on you, princess.”

You lay on your stomach, humming in delight when your stepdad’s big hands smooth down your back and legs. He really works the cream into your skin, making sure no place goes untouched. Once he’s done, you grin at him.

“Your turn.”

Seungcheol feels like he’s in heaven. He’s lying on his back with you sitting on his lap in the tiniest bikini he’s ever seen. You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his chest and torso, cooing about how hot he is every thirty seconds. He sees other men looking at him with pure envy, and that just makes the experience all the more sweeter. Because he belongs to you, and it’s clear that everyone on the beach knows it.

You spend most of the day at the beach, building sandcastles and playing in the pretty ocean. Being with Seungcheol makes you feel alive and at ease. He’s so easy to be with, and you can tell he feels the same way.

When you return to the villa, Seungcheol tells you to shower and get ready because he’s taking you to one of his favorite restaurants. The way you run upstairs while squealing with excitement is so endearing to him. He yells a reminder to use the bathroom in the master bedroom since that’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the week. He laughs heartedly when you respond with yes, daddy!

Seungcheol has never felt more lucky than he does now with you on his arm. You cling to him as you’re escorted to a secluded table with a fantastic view of the city. Seungcheol pulls out your chair, eyes trained on the glittering necklace around your neck.

“You keep staring,” you say teasingly as your stepdad goes to sit down.

“It’s because you look incredible in diamonds,” he says honestly. “I’ll have to get you matching earrings next time.”

Your stomach flips in excitement. Not because he’s talking about getting you something incredibly expensive to go along with the diamond necklace he bought you, but because he says it like you deserve nothing less.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, eying the necklace you picked out for him.

“My girl has incredible taste.” He says with a flirtatious smile.

The words make your heart stutter. It’s the first time he’s said something like that without being in a sexual setting. You don’t hate it. Actually, you like it a little too much.

“What kind of wine do you prefer?” Seungcheol wonders as he looks through the menu.

“Choose for me,” you say. “I want to know what you prefer.”

Seungcheol tries to contain his smile as he tells the waiter to bring a bottle of red wine. It’s hard not to feel like a giddy schoolboy when you make it clear the relationship you two have is not just one sided. His heart soars every time you demand to know more about him.

The rest of the night feels like a beautiful dream, one that neither of you want to wake up from.

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to fuck you properly.”

You laugh excitedly as Seungcheol leads you up the stairs. He’s playfully biting at your neck and letting his hands roam your body. It feels so blissful that you barely register that you’ve made it to the master bedroom.

Seungcheol spanks your ass before he’s desperately yanking your dress off. You go to take off the expensive necklace you’re wearing, but he stops you.

“Leave it on.”

You feel arousal drip down your thighs as you go to lay on the bed. Seungcheol quickly takes off his own clothes. His eyes are locked on your body, staring at you like you’re his prey. You’re no better. Like always, you can’t take your eyes off of his girthy cock.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” Seungcheol demands as he gets on the bed. “I need to taste you.”

You do as he says, eager to feel his tongue slipping through your folds. A loud moan cuts through the air when he buries his face in your pussy. He places open mouth kisses on your lips and clit, eager to make you fall apart on his tongue.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moan at you use your hands to hold yourself open for him.

Seungcheol fucks his tongue into your fluttering hole, moaning at the taste of you. He quickly loses himself in your taste, slurping up every bit of your arousal. You clench down on his tongue as he messily licks back up to your clit. You writhe underneath him as he sucks your pulsing bud into his hot mouth. Eagerly, you grind your clenching cunt into his mouth.

“So fucking sweet,” your stepdad groans as he slowly pulls back.

You cry out when he gives your pussy a harsh slap. The wet smack sends tingles up your spine. Your pussy is pulsing as you stare at Seungcheol with hungry eyes. His lower face is completely covered with your juices, and he’s never looked hotter. You moan when he slaps your cunt again. It hurts so good, and you arch into it when he keeps doing it. Each slap is harder than the last, and by the time he’s done, you’re gushing all over the sheets.

“Roll over for me, baby.”

You do as he says, pussy clenching in eagerness. He’s always so rough when he takes you from the back. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he yanks you toward him. Just when you think he’s going to tease you, he sinks his cock into your pussy.

“Take daddy’s cock like a good little princess.”

You let out a wanton cry when he harshly bottoms out. His leaking tip slams right into your g-spot and forces more juices out of your hot cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you deepen your arch.

“Fuck me, daddy!”

Seungcheol growls in his throat before he pulls his cock out of you halfway only to slam it back into your clenching heat. Arousal gushes from your pussy at his rough movements. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. A quiet whine escapes you when Seungcheol grabs your hair and pulls your head up to make you look into the mirror across from the massive bed. The sight is so filthy and hot that you start to lose yourself in the pleasure of it all.

Your stepdad starts pounding into your tiny pussy, fat cock stretching you out just how you like. As your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back on him to get his dick deeper inside of you.

“That’s it, baby,” Seungcheol groans, drilling his cock deeper into your squelching pussy. “Work that hot little cunt on your stepdad’s cock. Fuck. Get it nice and wet for me.”

You move your hips more eagerly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot. He’s relentless, fucking you like you’re nothing more than a hole.

“Keep your eyes on me, brat,” Seungcheol commands as he gives your ass a hard smack.

He meets your eyes in the mirror and smirks. God is he fixated on you and the way you look while he’s splitting you open. Your diamond necklace dangles with every rough thrust, and it makes his cock twitch and throb. As always, Seungcheol was right. You look so lovely getting fucked in the diamond necklace he picked out for you.

“Da-Daddy,” you gasp out.

“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans, fucking into you harder than before.

The sound of skin slapping together gets louder, and so do your filthy moans. You watch Seungcheol in the mirror, loving how hot he looks while he destroys your pussy.

“You’re so fucking hot, daddy,” you whine as you spread your legs.

Seungcheol hums approvingly and starts snapping his hips into you. He slaps your bouncing ass, pistoning his big cock in and out of your dripping cunt like a madman. You’re completely gone, moaning and mewling like it’s all you know how to do. It makes him go harder, fucking into your tight little pussy with no mercy.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do this outside.” Seungcheol decides, cock throbbing at the idea. “I’ll fuck you out in the open like the nasty slut you are.”

You slip your fingers down to rub your pudgy clit, loving his filthy words and how much they turn you on. Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh when he notices.

“Like that? Yeah, I bet you do,” he groans, taking his eyes off the mirror to watch your pretty ass recoil against his pelvis. “Dirty little brat. I’m gonna cream your little pussy until you can’t take anymore.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you mewl. “You’re so dirty.”

Seungcheol laughs as he drills his cock deeper into your cunt. His heavy balls slap your clit and drive you closer to your climax. All your stepdad has to do is give you one last thrust to push you over the edge. You yell out his name as your pussy gushes with your orgasm. Your stepdad groans loudly at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing his dick.

“That’s it, princess. Cream all over daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

You bounce back on him, eager to get him to stuff you full. “Cum inside me, daddy!”

Seungcheol moans your name and fucks his cock deep into your cunt before releasing his hot load inside you. Your pulsing walls milk him for everything he’s worth. Thick ropes of cum flood your little pussy until it’s leaking onto the soiled sheets. Slowly, Seungcheol pulls his cock out of your messy pussy. He loves the sight of his cum dripping out of your pretty cunt. It makes him ravenous all over again.

“Get up.”

You lick your lips and follow your stepdad as he gets off the bed. A squeal escapes you when he presses you against the wall. Seungcheol kisses you hotly as he pulls you closer to him. You barely notice as he goes to pick you up. He effortlessly throws your legs over his bulky arms before he teasingly drags his dripping cock over your messy cunt.

“Guide me in, baby,” he says as he presses wet kisses on your jaw. “Let daddy slide into your tight pussy.”

You whimper, pussy dripping with revived arousal. Lust clouds your mind as you go to do as he says. With one hand on his broad shoulder, you grab his cum covered cock and guide it to your soaking entrance. His bulbous tip nudges your pussy before he sinks you down on his throbbing cock. His hips flex as he slowly starts to fuck up into your little cunt.

“God, baby. Your cute little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks his cock against your sweet spot. Lewd squelching fills the room as your stepdad bounces you on his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his big dick stretches you out for the second time. The slight pain from his thrusts make you clamp down on his cock tighter.

“Daddy,” you mewl almost pitifully. “You’re gonna break my pussy.”

Seungcheol laughs. Not only because you sound so fucked out, but because you rock your pussy down to meet his unhurried thrusts. You’re addicted to his cock, and he loves that you can never hide it.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos, eyes fixed on the way your bouncing tits make the diamond necklace look even prettier.

“Fuck,” you moan when he starts to fuck you harder. You gasp and moan when his hands go to grab your ass.

“Pretty little brat,” Seungcheol groans as he kneads and squeezes your ass. “You always look so pretty when you’re stuffed full of cock.”

He keeps thrusting into you until you’re cumming all over his cock. It makes him laugh in delight. “That’s it. Cream all over daddy’s cock. Fuck. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You cry out as Seungcheol keeps bouncing you on his cock while he fucks up into your aching pussy. You’re drunk with pleasure, not bothering to stifle your wanton moans as you get split open with every rough thrust. The room reeks with the smell of sex, and it makes your pussy throb in delight. It always ends up this way, and you love that there’s always evidence left behind of how badly your stepdad is addicted to your tight little pussy.

“Cum again for me, sweetheart. Give daddy what he wants.”

Seungcheol smirks when you let out a fucked out whine. “What? Did daddy already fuck you dumb?”

Your pussy tightens and drips with more juices as you nod stupidly. Once again, your stepdad laughs meanly like he couldn’t be more proud that you can’t even respond to him properly.

Seungcheol squeezes your ass before he walks you back to the bed. You clamp down on him with every step he takes. A petulant whine of protest gets stuck in your throat when he pulls out of you with an obscenely wet sound. He tosses you on the bed before joining you.

“Dumb little brat. You can't stand not being stuffed full of your stepdad’s cock, huh?”

You give him a smirk, a little more lucid now. “Just like you can’t stand not having your cock buried in your stepdaughter’s pussy.”

Seungcheol places your legs over his shoulders and forces his cock back into your needy cunt. You cry out in pleasure, happy that your goading worked.

“You’re right. That’s why I’m gonna have to stay buried in your hot little cunt all week. Keep my little brat nice and full.”

You moan and grind your hips to meet his ravenous thrusts. “Fuck yes. Please, daddy. That’s all I want.”

Something about you begging so prettily and nicely always gets Seungcheol off. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna creampie this sweet little hole the entire time we’re here. That’s what a good stepdad does, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry, feeling another orgasm creeping up on you. “You’ll be a good stepdad and stuff my needy pussy, right, Cheolie?”

Something inside him switches when you use that endearing nickname. You’ve never used it during sex, but he doesn’t hate it. He absolutely loves it because it feels so much more intimate.

“Yes, baby,” his deep voice makes your toes curl. “I’m gonna give you a nice hot load. As many times as you want.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his filthy promise. His cock throbs and twitches inside you as he moves one of his hands to rub and pinch at your puffy clit.

“Cum for me, princess. Need your tight little pussy to milk me again,” Seungcheol coos softly.

You pant wantonly as your stepdad hammers his cock harder into your hot cunt. His fingers keep working your sensitive clit as he spears his thick cock deep into you. It’s all too much, and before you realize it, another orgasm crahses into your body.

“DADDY!” Your scream is loud as you arch your back, pussy gushing and clenching around Seungcheol’s huge cock.

“Fucking shit. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for daddy.” Seungcheol groans as he fucks into your squirting cunt while your walls milk him for all he’s worth.

A feral noise leaves him as he buries his cock to the hilt, girthy length pulsing inside you as thick ropes of cum shoot into your pussy. Seungcheol fucks his spunk deeper inside you, leaning down to place gentle kisses all over your face.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs adoringly, cock throbbing with pleasure. “Such a good girl for me.”

Seungcheol captures your lips in a heated kiss as his cock releases the last bit of cum. He pulls away and gives you one last affectionate peck before he sits up. His cocks slowly slips out of you, and Seungcheol’s eyes get impossibly darker when he sees his cum slowly tricking from your pussy. You love the possessive look on his face so you clench your pussy to push out more of his hot cum.

“This week’s going to be perfect.” He sighs contentedly.

You hum in agreement, making grabby hands at him. Seungcheol smiles sweetly and goes to cuddle you how you want. You sigh into his chest, letting the exhaustion take over.

“Love you, Cheolie. So much.”

Seungcheol presses a sweet kiss to your hair, basking in the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

“So, how’s your vacation going?”

Seungcheol hums against your scalp, holding back a groan when you unconsciously clench down on him. You two decided to spend the day by the pool, which led to you wanting to cockwarm him. So now, he’s laying on one of the pool chairs with you on top of him. Your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as his big cock pulses inside of you.

The fact that he can lull you to sleep while his dick is inside you is so endearing to him. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, and once he hangs up his call he’ll fuck you awake, just how you like.

“Amazing,” Seungcheol doesn’t bother to hide the bliss in his voice. “Thanks again for calling my wife into work.”

Jeonghan laughs deviously. “I owed you one. You helped me pull off my plan.”

Seungcheol laughs along as he thinks back to the pills he gave his friend for his own nefarious agenda. “It took you longer than I thought.”

“You of all people know that plans like ours take time. If anything went wrong, I would’ve lost everything.” Jeonghan sighs as he thinks back on how long it took to perfectly orchestrate everything. “And you know I would never let myself be a bad guy in my little girl’s eyes.”

It’s true. He’s sure Jeonghan would rather die than have his stepdaughter think less of him.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says after a beat of silence. “What’s the next step? I can only keep your wife busy with work for so long.”

Seungcheol grins when you cuddle deeper into his neck. You’re close to waking up, so he’ll have to cut his call short.

it's been a while since wonwoo first laid his eyes on you; a pretty, smart and kind of naive college student. you two attended the same college, so you'd see him often around the hallways even though you two never actually talked

you were surely really pretty, but that was it. he might've just stared at you once or twice, but there was nothing more about it. well, at least not until you became a pain on his neck

one day, coming back from getting the groceries, you came across a gruesome scene in one of the dark alleys from your block. a tall man, wearing all black, covered by a cap, a mask and a hoodie, carried a corpse. you wanted to scream, but you got paralyzed instead, he remained unaffected by your presence, not considering the possibility of you reporting him - after all, it wasn't like you could see his face or anything that would make him recognizable

or maybe he thought so. until now, all of his murders had been considered just isolate cases, no one suspected a thing or who could've done this, but when he saw that murder, the one you had witnessed, being announced on tv, and theories surrounding it that linked that murder with the other ones, - after all, the victims all had a pattern: rich politicians who approved a specific project for planning a new area in changwon - his blood boiled. wonwoo just couldn't understand how could you be such a pesky little thing and ruin his plans on being unnoticed

well, he had to think about something. he had to do something. he couldn't just let a random college girl interrupt his sweet, sweet revenge, and neither the cops. so that's why he started stalking you

he wasn't counting on the fact he would start feeling something other than hatred bubbling inside him whenever he'd think about you, he never thought he'd start desiring you. but at the end of the day, it'd be just the best of both worlds for him - he'd have his way with a hot girl, kill her and get his revenge, and would also mislead the cops onto thinking about the changwon incident; the one that made him an orphan

once again, he stood in the shadows, covered by some big trees that were perfect to hide his strong, 6ft frame. your neighborhood wasn't crowded so it was even better, as no one would notice his present around as he looked up into your window. you looked so perfect, so pretty dolling yourself up to sleep, your pretty silk nightgown left little to imagination, and he loved every single detail of it

it was one of those nights, your parents weren't at home, and you were feeling yourself, so it wasn't long before he caught you on your bed, legs spread out as a small bullet vibrador teased your delicate folds. your brows were furrowed in pleasure, and when you pushed your pink lacy panties to the side, he couldn't help but start rubbing his hand in the front of his black jeans, wondering if you'd have this same expressions if it was him who was pushing those cute panties to the side, if if was his fingers that were teasing you

you started fucking yourself with the small object, letting out the sweetest moans wonwoo ever heard, and it wasn't long before he gave in to his desires once again, pulling out his length from its confine, his gaze still burning on your delicate figure

he watched as your rhythm gradually increase, your moans getting more frantic by each passing moment, as his thumb gently grazed along the slit of his cock, making his entire body jolt with pleasure. his hand tightened the grip on the shaft, as his mind wandered once again to how tight and wet your cunt would feel it he was the one fucking you, making sure to ruin you and leave you too dumb to even be able to run away from him once he's had his way with you

once you had your orgasm, wonwoo couldn't help but feel his balls getting tighter, soon enough blowing out his load all over his hand, his mind making up the decision he had to do something soon. very, very soon

[...]

finally halloween night, the perfect day for wonwoo to be able to execute his plan. your friends had invited you for a halloween party, and you were surely excited to go, even if it was in a more dangerous side of the city – to them, actually, it was even more appealing as it fitted the vibe perfectly

the party's location actually would be even more helpful for wonwoo's plans, as it'd be hosted at an abandoned mansion that was placed on an also abandoned neighborhood, surrounded by a forest. wonwoo wouldn't need much to make you disappear just like he had planned, that place was literally the best trap ever so he could get his sweet, sweet revenge on you for disturbing his plans

you felt a shiver down your spine as soon as your friend's car parked near the party's location, as if your body could sense some kind of danger, but you brushed it off, thinking it might've been just because of the mansion's atmosphere. but it wasn't

the sensation was only getting worse as you tried to enjoy the party as much as your friends were, the sense of unease and something more, as if someone was watching you, wouldn't go away. it was making you anxious, you felt like you needed to run away, like there was actually danger, but you kept quiet, you didn't wanted to ruin your friend's night at all and you also needed to go out for a bit

[...]

you fixed the black leotard and the bunny ears a last time before leaving the bathroom, ready to find your friends once again in the crowded room. just as you were passing by, you felt the same sense of unease again, of being watched, a shiver running along your spine, but no one seemed to be around. you thought you were going crazy

except for the fact you weren't. wonwoo followed you around the party all the time, taking in your appearance as you wore a ravishing playboy bunny costume, your ass barely covered by the short shorts you chose not to be half-naked in just that tight leotard, so tight wonwoo couldn't help but stare at the shape of your gorgeous tits and how they'd felt with his lips around it — it wasn't like he wouldn't get some fun with a pretty thing like you before making his plans work perfectly

you couldn't find your friends, so you grabbed a bit of a watermelon vodka drink that was being served and went all the way to the backyard, where a few people seemed to be smoking and others making out. a tall, handsome man dressed as joker approached you, well, it wasn't exactly a costume, as he only had a mask on and a suit, but you recognized the character anyway

"what's a pretty thing like you doing here, all alone?" his deep voice sent tingles all over your body "it's kind of dangerous to be here by yourself... haven't you heard the rumors that this mansion's abandoned, kitten?"

"i was just looking for my friends, but they're nowhere to be found, so i just came here for some fresh air" you answered, as oblivious as you were to his true intentions. wonwoo chuckled softly at your answer, loving the way his plan was going as smooth as it could, and he decided to take off his mask

the sight of his handsome appearance without the mask made you softly gasp, — fact that he pretended not to notice, but definitely did — he was extremely hot and totally your type, as if he came straight out one of your dreams

"mind if i keep you company, then?" he asked, and you shook your head while watched him light up a cigarette "want one?"

"no thanks, i don't smoke" you answered, watching him take off a long drag. for some reason, it was insanely hot to watch this

"so, what's your name, pretty girl?" god, the way the nickname rolled out of his tongue made something inside you flip completely

"____. and you are...?" you waited for his answer

"call me wonwoo, sweetheart"

[...]

you didn't knew how, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe something entirely his, but you were completely drawn to wonwoo. sure, he was tall, handsome and from the brief conversations you two had, you could already tell he was insanely intelligent, but you still weren't sure why something about him had you longing for me

you weren't sure either on how or why did you started dancing with him, or let him lead you to the very same woods you'd found eerie earlier that day so you two could made out. yet, it felt so right to have those lips pressed against yours, to have his tongue hitting all the right spots inside your mouth and leave you whimpering against his and your cunt throbbing for more

his lips moved all the way down to your neck, savoring the sweet taste of your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that made you gasp in such a cute way, that wonwoo thought he could get a boner with just that. you, on the other hand, could already feel moisture pooling down your core in a way that made your panties stick to your skin uncomfortably

"okay, doll. want to be a good girl for me, yeah?" he breathe out against your neck, and you whimpered at the contact of his hot breath against your already sensitive skin, nodding instantly. the sight of you being so submissive and eager to please him made wonwoo harden immediately "that's what i've thought... why don't you star by being a good girl and getting on your knees for me?"

you were more than happy to oblige it, dropping to your knees on the spot, not caring more about the eerie environment or the fact you two were out there in public. you saw him undo his belt, and a shiver ran down your spine as you imagined how big his cock must be — you just knew it was big

after you helped him undo his buttons and free himself from its confines, you saw his hardened cock stand tall and proud, ready for your attention. you gulped, not expecting it to be as big as it really was, but you leaned in eagerly anyway, ready to please wonwoo

you wrapped your lips against his tip, savoring the bittersweet taste on your lips, and he groaned at the sensation, hands flying instantly to your hair, dropping your bunny ears on the process. the contact of his hands with your hair made you bolder, as you bobbed your head more, relaxing your throat so you could accommodate more of his length inside your mouth

"fuck, what a good little mouth" he let out a deep moan, and you felt more moisture pool down your legs at the sound of his voice

you got bolder in your movements, bobbing your head all the way down, using your hands to pleasure him, and going all you could to make him feel as good as possible. wonwoo was loving you eager you were to please him, and it only made him hornier, thinking about how pathetic, and yet, still hot, you were like this

it wasn't long until he came inside your mouth, releasing his hot, thick seed right down your throat. he watched you gag and struggle a bit to swallow. he dressed up again, watching you look at him with doe eyes, ready to do whatever he wanted next, and the sight alone was enough to make him horny again

"doll, can you get up for me?" he watched as you eagerly got on your feet again, already waiting for his next command "such a good girl" he purred, getting closer and closer, making your back press against a tree

he shoved a hand inside your short shorts. wonwoo's skilled fingers were fast enough to pull your leotard and panties to the side, a groan escaping his mouth once he found you already wet and ready for him

"got this wet for me just from sucking cock, hm? such a nasty little girl" he tsked, smirking mockingly. you opened your legs a bit more, wanting more contact "look at you, already demanding for more..."

"wonwoo, please" you whimpered. his middle finger rubbed through your folds until they stopped at your sensitive hole, slipping just a bit to gather your juices, smearing it all over your nether lips teasingly

you mewled, and earned a dark chuckle from the tall man in front of you, who decided to do it again before finally stopping at your clit, drawing figures of eight slowly, just to get you worked up

"you're really a slut, huh? getting off on fucking in public like this, knowing anyone could pass by these woods and see you letting a barely unknown man finger your juicy cunt like this" he teased you, leaning in just to bite and suck a certain spot on your neck that made your toes curl

suddenly, two fingers entered your cunt, and you were not able to surpass the loud moan that escaped your lips. luckily, there was no one around to hear it, but the possibility of being seen made your cunt throb in a way that was definitely noticed by wonwoo

"what was that, doll? do you like being fucked in public like that?" he teased, pumping his fingers faster. you were already so lost in pleasure, that you didn't even heard him, too worked up on his fingers

wonwoo was determined in making you come undone, scissoring them, thrusting them upwards to find your g-spot, rubbing his thumb over your clit, all he could to get you off as soon as possible. your moans were getting more and more erratic by each passing second, your thighs were quivering, and your hips were moving on their own now. you were too close to snap

with a sudden thrust from his fingers, the coil on your stomach snapped, the feeling got unbearable, and you let go to the sensation. wonwoo let you ride down your orgasm until its very last wave before pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth to taste your juices

"you taste like fucking candy" he groaned, getting closer so he could connect your lips to his again. you could taste your own essence inside his mouth, but you were still too horny to care about it

he shoved your shorts down and quickly ripped your leotard and panties to get them out of the way, and then took his own length out its confines again before finally plunging it into you without a warning

fuck, he made you feel so full. his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, caressing your cervix in a way that was certainly too much but you couldn't help but want more. the sensation alone made you moan desperately

one of his hands grabbed your hips with a bruising strength, while the other roamed over your body, as if it was memorizing its shape. when they finally found one of your breasts, he squeezed it hard while thrusting harder and faster, determined on making you as cockdrunk as possible

god, you looked so stupid on his cock already that he could just kill you if he wanted to. but he didn't wanted to waste the opportunity to fuck this sweet, juicy cunt and to hear those delicious moans

his hips slammed against yours even faster, the wet, lewd sounds you two were producing were echoing through the deserted woods, along the sounds of your needy moan and whimpers and his deep moans and groans. his tip was constantly hitting your g-spot again in a bruising pace, making you see stars — wonwoo was definitely too much

"fuck, such a tight little cunt." he groaned "been waiting for too long to fuck you"

you felt like cumming already, but you tried to hold your own orgasm so you could wait for him as well

"such a good pussy for me" he moaned

you could feel his cock throb inside you and knew he wouldn't last longer, but so do you. so when the sensation became unbearable again, you just let it go, cumming all over his cock again. the way your cunt squeezed him made wonwoo cum as well, shooting his load inside you

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: well I lied about posting last week. I'm fond of lying and worst scenario did happen and I'm posting in may. anyways, tried hard to make them lack chemistry so you guys tell me how that turned out.

This is your punishment. It must be. Why is it that when you’re finally at ease with life, something has to ruin your stable comfort? You swore you wouldn't come back to this town unless a major celebration or an emergency would occur. Unfortunately, it so happens that both had transpired at the same time. In the worst way possible.

A year and a half ago your sister had met someone. It only took nine months of being together for them to get engaged and your entire family knew besides you. Chances are you would have remained in the dark even after the event if the pyramid schemer of your cousin hadn't called you about the possibility of lending her money to pay for the items she was supposed to sell. 

Merciless enough and with no regard for your sister, she spilled it all to you along with ridicule laced in each word. Reveling and laughing at the theory of your sister possibly being pregnant. Interlaced jealousy for obtaining a “great catch”.

You don't entertain it, humming with faux excitement despite dreading the fact that you're now expected to send a letter to your sister letting her know how happy you are for her. Whether you truly were or didn't care, did not matter. You expected nothing out of it, nothing was supposed to happen after all, per usual. It was all courtesy. 

Silence from your sister was always a better reward than having her talk your ear off about anything she was fairly interested in. The matter becomes worse knowing she dreaded talking to you overall, therefore it was a waste of time for you both.

Unfortunately, days later you received a phone call where she, in fact, talked your ear off about the guy she was engaged to and what she had in mind for her celebration. It’s not like she was having fun telling you about it, she didn’t plan for you to find out to begin with. But again, it was all courtesy. Hoping that this would make you feel included enough to send her a gift without invitation.

The call extended for longer despite the long periods of silence on both ends. She had waited and waited, with no signs of you asking what she wanted, leading her to hang up feigning a dinner with her fiance. Truth is she scoffed rolling her eyes and petulantly stomping around knowing she would have to invite you now if she wanted a gift.

Two months later a wedding invitation was sent to your apartment. Reading over the script typeface with all of its coiled swashes, embossed flowers, and the underlying inked words that scream at you to not go, to not entertain this and just send the damn gift. Courtesy, it's all about courtesy.

You didn’t hear from any of your family members again after receiving that piece of cardstock. Not until a week before the wedding day. Merciless Friday. By Friday, life has killed you.

You had planned on leaving a day before the date. You were in no rush to visit anyone in that town nor did you plan to stay long after the ceremony. Like a business trip, that’s what you were treating it as.

Simply, your plan was to get a round trip ticket. The departing flight back home after the ceremony, possibly at the middle of it, or worst case scenario: the following morning. All to avoid being berated by your mother or aunts; with no plan to overstay your visit.

That was the plan, yet again the universe was so humorous that when you picked up the phone to hear your father talk to you casually with long gaps in between his words, you knew something was awfully wrong. He didn’t specify the reason for his call nor did he give you much information about how his fig tree wasn’t looking too good and most likely would not make it for fig season. 

It was quick and brief, that should have been telling. Your mother would have called you selfish for not noticing the small things but those words were customary for her so you didn’t take them to heart. You haven’t in years, you would like to think. 

Now you look at those same trees, nodding to yourself about how correct he was. Branches too frail and crackly, snapping with a swipe of a finger. They used to be so strong, even in these winter temperatures with biting and prickling coldness. The one your mother often caused within you and now it’s odd knowing that’s what she must have felt last night. 

It’s strange to come back and notice the state of the weather. A town usually disgustingly humid, scaldingly hot, and sunny was now replicating your current city. Gloomy and rainy, the humidity never leaves but the disgust clings to the feeling in your chest as cousins, uncles, and aunts rush out of your childhood home with box sets of silverware, easy and light furniture, and china that had not been locked away. 

A cheery smile on their faces, patting you as a welcome while stuffing their rickety cars with your parents’ belongings. You don’t question it, you always expected this from them. The best you can do now, is close the door in their faces when the youngest of your cousins walks out with your father’s broken Atari in his grimy hands.

So young and already so rotten.

It’s not the fact that they are taking the things, it’s more so that none of them bothered to let you know your mother had died Friday morning or looked to be mourning. Or how she had been battling a nasty infection due to the thorns in her rose bushes. How rapidly the fungus had consumed her cells.

The house is eerie and cold; silence was never this stiff. Biting and dull, but never static. The large portraits of your mother scattered around the walls feeling more patronizing than ever before. You can already imagine what she must be thinking about you all the way from purgatory. “Typical, you could not even bother to show before my last breaths.” A scoff, turning up her nose with a shake of her head to avoid looking at you. 

Disgust, disgust, disgust.

It doesn’t take long to find your father in their shared bedroom. Sitting idly on the edge of the bed looking out the window. A usual position, now enveloped with grief and despair. Not his ordinary nonchalance and comfort. He was a shell of a man from when you last saw him. Then again, that was two years ago for their silver anniversary where your mother scolded you for not helping or for not doing things the way she wanted them.

You remember clearly ending that night in the train station with your suitcase. Your father dropping you off while affirming that they loved you despite all your mother had spewed the entire visit. You both smiled fondly before hugging and patting each other’s cheeks. He knew you well enough to leave before your train arrived, giving you a breather and letting out all your grievances, leaving them here and not taking them back home. 

“Hey…” Your meek voice causes his hand to twitch, not turning to look at you. “How are you holding up?” You question, hand sliding down his shoulder to rub comfortingly. You feel his chest rumble, your fingers thrumming against his wool sweater. “I told you the fig tree was not going to hold on until spring.” He answers slowly, eyeing how the branches snapped with the breeze.

“You did.”

Silence befalls, it’s uncomfortable yet comfortable. The contradiction makes it far more confusing on your end. You’re not too sure how he feels. Perhaps you should say something, something stupid or mundane but something. These days you're far more unaware of what to do or think. 

“Hey, dad?” “Hey, dad!”

There’s a clear difference in the way those words are uttered. In the way the voices sound and how they roll off each other’s tongues but ultimately both of you turn towards the door, seeing your sister stand with a cheery smile – a tad duller when her eyes fall on you. The most she gives you besides a hum, unphased by your presence. 

“The morgue is on the line.” She utters, chin turning to point towards the phone on your mother’s nightstand. Your father makes no effort to answer, leaving it to both of you to decide. Ultimately, you reach for the device, the cold plastic uncomfortable against your ear. 

“Hello?” “With the family of Mrs. Y/l/n?” “Yes…”

Taken aback by your lack of warmth, the mortuary technician hums, “We wanted to inform you that we got results back from the police station and after the autopsy, Mrs. Y/l/n is ready to be transferred to the services you’ve chosen. Since she is an identified body, we can only keep her for a week at best. She does have to be transferred for burial or a different mortuary by the time frame.” 

Confused, you turn to your father. His lack of response makes you turn to your sister who looks at you like you’re crazy for whatever you haven’t told them. “What?— I thought you guys handled funeral services as well?” You answer, clutching the hard plastic in your hand.

“Unfortunately, no. Not yet at least, but there are multiple funeral homes around the area that you can contact and we can transfer the body to them for the burial or their own morgue. It just has to be before the week ends. Fortunately, it’s a busy season– Unfortunately, I mean! Sorry… We will need the space.” Catching his mistake he laughs nervously, pulling the last remaining hair strand on his balding head.

“Give me a second.” You grumble, your mother’s lipstick still plastered against the bottom half of the phone. “Have you looked into funeral home services?” You whisper, looking at your standing sister who shakes her head vigorously. There’s no way your father had the will to do so and you don’t ask him but the gnawing feeling of the lack of organization is eating at you already.

With a sigh you pick up the phone from your lap, taking your time to answer. “We don’t yet have a plan… Is there no way we can get more time?” You almost beg, was it not for his disinterested whiny voice while twirling the spiral cord around his finger. “Yeah, no… That’s quite unfortunate, yeah.” He hums, patronizing. It irritates you beyond belief. To the point where you hang up before even giving him a definitive answer.

“A week! That’s all we get to find any funeral services or she’ll get tossed out like a butchery carcass!” You’re not sure if you’re more irritated from the call, your sister’s nonchalance, or the fact that you care more than you allowed yourself on the flight back.

"A week?!" Your sister screeches, "My wedding is a week! We can't possibly do that!" Her hands come to her head, distress covering her face like a wedding being pushed back would be the bigger tragedy out of this. Your slow turn of head and slotting eyes don't phase her but your words do irk her.

"Mom just died and you're more worried about a wedding?...”

 "It's not that! It's just that— the wedding is already planned. Mom's funeral isn't, we don't have anything to look for and especially in this short amount of time." She covers up, nodding like it was the best excuse she has ever come with. Was it not for your father's voice catching both of your attention and his slow monotone tone, you would have finally slapped the sense into her that you should've done years ago if allowed.

"Your mother began saving up for this, months ago. I don't think it's much but we will find out when her lawyer arrives tomorrow to read her will." He pauses, "We will make do." He concludes with a nod to himself.

It's not enough for you. That goes to say there's virtually nothing when funerals cost an arm and a leg. You don't even know how much her payment plan was so what gave you the reassurance that you could do anything with that. No, you had to think for the three of you. Like — fucking — usual.

"Aren't you paying for the wedding too?" You turn to him. He nods, "We will make do."

No. No, it's not that simple.

"Your wedding is in a week, there's no reason for you to spend anymore. How about we cut that off already and you can help with the funeral preparations." You speak sternly to your sister. That desperation and anger lacing every single one of your words.

"What?! No, you can't just cut me off! I still have to pay the catering and flower vendors. That doesn't go into action until Tuesday." It's crazy to see how maniac she became in an instant. Her hair disheveled the further her fingers threaded through it. "You can't have me present my guests beautiful decor just to serve their food on paper plates, can you? That's tacky!" She groans, petulantly turning to your father for back up.

"We will make do."

Are you satisfied? No, but you're exhausted and quite honestly jet lagged. This has been enough interacting with your sister and your father's enabling that you decide to throw the towel and shake your head.

"Fine. But you'll have to help me with the funeral services and finding an adequate funeral home."

She's pushed her luck already, and she knows it. "Fine."

It should have been an obvious sign that normal days were left behind when you arrived. What used to be quaint mornings in this town were now loud and obnoxious. Things were different in a sense that you had not expected. The blaring of a nightstand alarm transformed into an irritating screech of the fire alarm calling your name over and over to turn it off. Bike bells from the paperboy calling for the daily paper were now incessant honks tattle-telling on the neighborhood boys that kicked balls at whatever car was left outside the garage.

Whether your body wanted it or not, you pushed off the mattress that was once your safe haven. Now it was hard as rock and the cause of your aching muscles that wept with every step down the stairs. Your mother’s penetrative glare through all those portraits adding onto your pain. 

Upon hearing your steps, your father turns with a blank look on his face but an apology in his eyes. You let out a sigh and a reassuring smile on your lips, turning off the stove and moving the pan away. “I burnt the eggs.” He utters monotonously, each word spoken with every step you take towards the fire alarm. “A coward egg. Preferring to burn than to be eaten. It’s okay, the next one will be brave.” You think you can see a smile on his face although blocked by the fabric of your pajamas and sprawled hair. 

“Those damn kids, running around the street when cars are leaving for church.” Your sister had interrupted any sense of tranquility (if any) with complaints. Her eyebrows furrowed and a frown on her face that becomes teasing when she sees you on a chair, mangling the fire alarm. 

It’s mocking you think, the way she looks at you. “What did you do? You’ve only been here for a few hours.” And your glare gives her the response she was looking for. Receiving you with a teasing scoff, almost turned into a giggle while she swivels towards your dad, kissing his cheek good morning. 

“Geez, relax. I was just kidding.” She huffs, “Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Usually comments as such warranted extensive berating from her and  your mother. Your aunts if they were visiting but now it’s just you two and your dad. Your catatonic dad that can only give her the same blank look and words he’s given you: “I burnt the eggs.”

She kisses his head, smiles reassuringly, reaching for the pan to toss out the now cold eggs. “It’s okay, I’ll make you some.” It’s similar enough, you’re sisters after all. 

You manage to silence the fire alarm, bringing tranquility for a second before three rhythmic knocks are heard at the front door. Your sister and you share a glance, questioning with an indication for you to open the door. It’s something menial that you won’t fight her over, rather you just do it to let the starch pressed suit wearing lawyer inside the house. 

He’s roughly a head taller than you, lankier and awkward but in a way that makes him seem snooty. He gives you a glance and a muted greeting smile. He attempts to share some pleasantries but you don’t let him, leading him to the living room where the other two had gathered already. Eggs and stove long forgotten. 

“Good morning,” he utters, “Only you three will join us?” He asks, fingers threading through the cuff links of his suit. They’re rusted, staining his dress shirt with every move. He knows it and hates that others do too but he can’t be bothered to change them. Rather they’re his only ones. 

“Yes, morning.” You answer with a nod, sitting besides him. “Right.” He mutters, clearing his throat, fumbling to open his briefcase. “I’ve brought copies for you all and given the quantity, I consider it best we get straight to it, yes?” The lawyer — who you later learned his name was Mr. Chop, called pork chop by your sister whenever he said something she didn’t like — handed you each a thin packet. Swivel designs on each corner, customary of your mother who most likely brought in her own paper for him to print on whenever the time came. She probably did not expect it to be this early. 

Your father makes no effort to touch it, your sister only flips through it, but you focus on every word and the tone everything is dictated in. Mr. Chop reads in a lousy voice that he’s forced to sound vigorous but his constant voice cracks give out his experience. Not that much.

“For my dear husband,” He fixes the stiff paper under his fingers. “You will find yourself flooded by life insurances all to your name. Enjoy them while you remain, it is your call what you do when you think your time will come.” Mr. Chop clears his throat, turning to you before continuing. “As long as you’re wise if you dare leave anything to Y/n…” 

Typical. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

“To my youngest daughter, you’ve always loved the eccentricity of your mother and grandmother. For that, I leave you our jewelry. I know you will do the right thing when it comes to these and you will take good care as I have all these years.” 

You could swear your mother’s doting voice projected through his weak mouth. Sweet when looking at your sister but patronizing and mocking when he turned to you. Just the way the old hag intended. 

Take that back, pinch yourself under the thigh for thinking of your mother as an old hag. No matter how much she’s impacted you, remorse and guilt will always flood you when it comes to her. 

Fuck. 

“Lastly, Y/n. Consider yourself lucky for this letter and your grandmother’s cookbook. Lord knows you could benefit from it. I will not offer you more for you know what you’ve done and you shall live with that your entire life.” 

The paper doesn’t feel heavy under your fingertips. It’s light, translucent, and from the sunlight peeking through the sliding doors leading to the backyard, you can see she did not write much. 

“What about the funeral plan she began? How much is there?” 

Mr. Chop knows there’s urgency in your voice. Desperation and frustration etching themselves across your face while he takes his time to flip through some papers he had not yet taken out. “Yes… it seems your mother did not begin this plan until three months ago that leaves with only—“ he hums, holding his tongue to not sigh and give more pity remarks than he’s already given. “$169 to be exact, not discounting taxes depending on the company. Some funeral plans tend to take out taxes when the money is put to use.” He drops his professional act momentarily to look at you. 

“These insurances… they can cover it, surely. Yes?” It’s the first time your father spoke since the lawyer arrived. Grievance written all over his face, in the way his eyebrows knit like a begging hungry child. His fingers twitch, itching to look for answers in the packet but hold back. As if touching the decorative paper ought to burn his fingers.

Mr. Chop hums for an exaggerated amount, head tilting to ultimately click his tongue. His pen hits his forehead, leaving a tiny blob of ink that you fixate on. “Well, yes… the thing is that insurances take a month to three after the claim. Unfortunately — for some reason — February is high in mortality and it’s going to take longer than that to hear back from the insurance companies.” 

It’s a dead end. A dead end and it seems only your father and you feel the weight of your mother’s body crushing the both. It’s typically you whose hands were freezing cold but now they’re warm against your father’s. Taking them in a tight and reassuring grip, forcing belief into both. He glances at you, apologies flooding his eyes and threatening to escape his lips. Those that you shut with a smile and another squeeze.

“We will make do.” And now you’re fully convinced that he’s smiling. Believing you with no proof or witness, just the fatherly love and remnants of hope he has. He squeezes your hands in return, a sign of compliance.

Mr. Chop doesn’t extend his invite. As soon as it’s settled he makes his exit, leaving the three of you to wonder what should be done. Your father reverted to small talk, managing to nod at some questions and stare blankly at others. That left you and your sister to make calls to funeral homes all day. Alternating between landlines while one of you wrote, analyzed, and organized the price points and deals. All flukes and robberies. 

To say frustration wasn’t getting the best of you was an understatement. How is it that death is perceived as an eternal slumber where you feel no more, yet it leaves those behind you in perpetual suffering. 

Your father won’t explain what he feels but everyone can read it in the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. You’re not too sure how you feel besides uncertainty that makes you scribble harshly against the notepad. Eraser shavings get between the lead and paper, forcing large gaps between words. It bothers you enough to rewrite the words just for another piece to be erased. A cycle that you know you should end but the bubbling ache in your chest makes you continue your angry scribbles until you touch the fresh page underneath.

Faith lets it survive for longer. Intervening through an ecstatic screech that leaves your sister. It gives you hope, seeing her stomp around in a happy dance. Telephone cord wrapping around her body the way her fiance will do in a few days to come. She’s so happy. Your mother is dead, your father is bordering on joining her and your sister is happy. 

“Found a funeral service?” Your voice breaks her out of it. Her wide smile, not flattering as she turns to look at you with faux confusion. That stupid midline diastema was growing but it made her look far more charming than before. Her giggle doesn’t help and for a second you think she’s that same little girl that would pity you when mother scolded for her wrong doings before she joined in on the mockery. 

“What? No!” She unravels the cord, some of it stuck against the buttons of her overalls. “The caterer called back and said they could work with the budget you're forcing me into! I can make this wedding work, Y/n!” If she was to ever touch you it would leave a reminder of her disdain and faux affection. This one, she’s genuinely happy and with no intention to mock you but even when she doesn’t want to, she manages to plague you with that poison your mother created and taught her to inject into you. 

She jumps around, holding your hands with no intention to seize her excited giggles. How can someone be so happy in times like these? Is this what being full of love creates?

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” The words leave your mouth in waves. Lips quiver with every letter and your hold on her hands turn crushing. Her eyebrows furrow, pulling away like a child that’s been zapped with prank gum. She scowls at the ruined moment, “Have you seriously been working on your wedding all this time?!” 

“No…” A scolded child answers, tucking her hands in the denim pockets. “I was making calls too, I just… took a break to answer the caterer.” she murmurs, swinging her body the way she does when consequences attempt to reach her.

“A break… We can’t take fucking breaks, sissy! We have to find a funeral home now or else who knows where mom will end up!” You don’t try to sound so angry or sad. The whine and fire in your voice will betray you the way it always does. “We can’t afford them if you're too fucking worried about your stupid wedding!” 

“Stupid?! Mom was looking forward to it! You would know if you checked in often and didn’t think you’re too good for us! Doesn't your job pay you well? You could possibly pay for this by yourself and leave dad alone.” A leach and a burden is what they’ll always see you as. It’s obvious through the gaps of invisible words she doesn’t spew. 

Despite the scratch created over your soul, you’ve only ever known to cover it with electric tape. It’s sticky and temporary, leaves a disgusting residue if you ever try to remove it but that doesn’t come until you’re ready to fix it. Which you won't, you never do. You never will.

“I am going to pay for it at this rate because you are more worried about a wedding with a guy you met not even a year ago and God trust no one believes it will last.” Condescension and it’s not yet Wednesday. It’s spilled in the same tone she utilizes with you, the difference is she’s never been strong enough to reap what she sews.

There’s fire in her eyes. The same fire she looked at your mother the few times she was reprimanded. The kind that tells you she loathes you with her entire soul and wants nothing but the worst for you. It translates perfectly through her words, ones that make you forget she’s the town sweetheart. 

“You know what your problem is, Y/n? That I’ve always been able to find someone and you haven’t. You’re lonely. A lonely, bitter spinstress. Bitter overall and that’s how you’ll end if you keep acting like this. Mom was right about you. She always has been.” She gives you no time to rebuttal with your own venom. Taking her belongings and slamming the kitchen door behind her while the words ‘naive’ and ‘dumb-fuck’ flood your brain knowing they’re far less offensive than bitter and lonely.

Without trying to dwell, you exit the kitchen as well. Rolling your eyes with a huff as the scene replays. Your mother is gone, there’s no reason for you to hold your tongue, doing that for years has stunted your ability to defend yourself. Your little sister will always have the upper hand the longer you keep your mother’s image etched inside your brain. 

She has no power over you. Not anymore. Free yourself. Try…

You can’t, you probably won’t. Because behind your disappointed father that sits on the steps of the stairs, your mother’s portrait bores holes into you. Engraving every word your sister spat out with far more volition.

Monday: Humiliation

Maybe you were brash with your outburst yesterday. Perhaps you could have handled the discontent better but the longer the argument plays in your head the more and more you think there’s no way you’re going to apologize to your sister for that. Not even when said argument led to you making your way to the first funeral home by foot because she refused to pick up the phone. 

You couldn’t ask your father to drive you there nor were you going to ask anyone else in your family. Those leeches had only made an effort to contact you to ask for more things they could take and when turned down they’d drop their sugar bowls and act as sour as you remember them. It’s laughable. How high and mighty they act but turn into grimy beggars attempting to slither their way into the home for more and more things to steal.

It’s happened a handful of times since your arrival. All ending with you slamming the door in their faces and them calling you the same names your mother used to. Disguising their visit as a form to check on your father without waiting for him to come down the stairs before acting like debt collectors. By now he knows not to come down, he’s always left panting and huffing on the last step when they leave. 

There’s been a few times they’ve been able to fool you. Their appreciation for taking over the funeral plans soothing your soul and causing you to release a content sigh, all to come crumbling when they mention how this was a nice gift for your sister. 

“So kind of you to take this off your sister’s hands. She’s already stressed enough with the wedding, you’re truly an angel, Y/n.” It’s so cut throat, fictitious, and treated like a burden. Each word pierces your jugular and is brought down to your chest, carving a cross over your skin. “God bless you.” The concluding words to whatever game they want to play at. 

“God bless you.”

A laugh leaves your mouth, covering it with your gloved hand as your head shakes. Oh, Y/n… What can you expect from your family? All so selfish and conceited. Spoiled and rotten. Rotten to the core.

The headphones on the Walkman threaten you to stop moving so much, inching closer to snapping off your head and leave you with the sound of cars driving past. Some, confused on why you would walk in this weather and lack of sidewalks. There’s no time to explain that your sister and family are petty. Enough to not take care of your father while you’re gone and the only person you trust to look after him is the neighbor, Mrs. Mimi and her dog Rek. At least with them you know your father’s belongings won’t be gone within minutes. 

Usually you’re not against walking to places. It’s the only thing you can do back in the city where everything is within walking distance and at least the view is pretty. As pretty as skyscrapers and tourists are but it’s better than cracked pavement, rickety old homes with old men sitting on the porch nearly naked despite the freezing temperatures, and roadkill almost every day. Anyhow, you hate to admit that you’d rather see this than the horrendous interior design of this first funeral home.

You can blame the lighting and the textures of every surface. Despite this, nothing justifies how horrendous acid yellow carpeting and neon purple wood paneling look together. Obnoxious in the way that forces your brain to transmit the message of hurling your guts out and nothing would show on the carpet. Perhaps it’s happened before according to the stench — discarding the cadavers below ground.

“Shit show.” You huff under your breath, taking out a notepad from your purse. 

“What was that?” It comes out friendly, playful despite the chill it forces all over your body. Swiveling on your heel to turn to two men emerging from the backroom. They smile acknowledging your presence but don’t press the matter. “Sorry, how may I help you?” The shorter one smiles. It’s scarily similar to Pee-wee Herman’s, far more disturbing. You chalk it up to his growing bald spot, making him look like an aging uncle despite most likely being around your age.

“Hello…” Nervously, your hand waves. “I’m Y/n, I called yesterday about funeral plans.” His ankles click with each other, knees straightening up as his face lights up comically. As if a light bulb actually lit before his eyes. “Right! Ms. Y/l/n, I was just showing Mr. Jung what the plan consists of. Would you want to see it too or do I leave you two to discuss it?” His ominous and strained smile returns, blinking too fast for his own liking and it makes him look frightening but perhaps that uneasiness is what keeps the place in business. 

He doesn’t seem to catch onto your confusion on why you’d talk with the taller stranger beside him. In comparison to the funeral director, the other man is relaxed. His hands remain inside his wool coat, dark as his hair that makes his skin seem brighter. He was a little too pale for this area, even in the winter the sun shines bright. 

You’re within seconds of concluding that he’s an attendant until he speaks up, hands coming out of the coat pockets. “Mr. Holmes, would you mind giving Ms. Y/l/n and I, a minute alone to discuss?” And that only manages to furrow your eyebrows further to the point your eyes may be bulging out. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions. Your mother made sure to take full advantage of that.

The funeral director isn’t told twice. Leaving a packet with the stranger that thanks him before releasing a heavy sigh and rocking in his heels as his eyes mimic yours. He shakes his head, making an odd expression with his mouth that tells you something you know already.

“Shit show.”

And it bothers you how easy it was for him to knock down your defensiveness to snicker along with him. 

When both seem to calm down, he clears his throat, extending his hand for you to shake. Skeptically you take it, never removing your gloves and clutching the pen in your other hand. “Y/n…” He smiles fondly, his other hand coming to clutch yours as well. It feels odd and it confuses you, enough to bubble up an upset.

“Y/n Y/l/n, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” An airy chuckle of finality escapes him, his head dips as he smiles widely like you’ve known each other for ages while the only thing that crosses your mind is: “Who the fuck is this guy?” It’s obvious in the way you’re giving him that same reserved look from seconds ago. One he chalks up to the distance and he shakes his head to relax.

“From your AP world history and APUSH classes… Remember me?” His voice lilts, eyebrow twitching as he recalls. You truly don’t know what he’s talking about and while his expressions are soft, yours are in perpetual incertitude. “Well, we went to the same middle and high school but- I don’t know, I thought high school would be easier for you to recall. You remember me, right?” 

His tone doesn’t falter, he’s still as joyous as you’ve first heard him. He’s trying his darn best but if you’re being honest to yourself, you have no idea who this man is. Your body betrays you though, faux laugh escaping your lips as you nod. “Yeah! Yeah… AP Biology, right?” Your eyebrows don’t unknit and there is when he begins to question himself. He hums but shakes his head despite his smile slowly falling. 

“No, no… We only had the same AP humanities classes.” “Ah… Yeah, APUSH.”

It’s difficult to understand how easily discomfort settles.

“Victor Asuel, right?” While you smile, he replicates it uncomfortably. “The one that got a perm and had to go bald when it burnt the scalp, yeah?” Jaehyun joins you in an uneasy laugh, shaking his head to awkwardly correct you. “No, Jaehyun. Jung. I sat next to you in world history and well… APUSH.” He chuckles uncomfortably, his hands finally leaving yours to shove them in his coat pockets. Hurt, you’re aware of that.

“Sorry…” It’s a dead end you don’t think you’re able to get out of. Charismatic as he is, he smiles shaking his head. “Forget about it, it’s fine. It’s been a while, yeah.” He nods, looking at your face to memorize all expressions. “It’s been over ten years anyways.” 

Jaehyun sucks in his teeth, sighing afterwards. “I’m also your sister's fiance if that helps.” It’s muted and less exciting than the original topic. It doesn’t help, you had no care of who she was marrying if you’re being sincere but at least you know there’s another reason for him to talk to you. 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Thoughts on the plan?” This time you try to break the silence. “Shit show.” He repeats, shaking his head with that same nice smile of his. He’s comfortable and that’s good enough for you. “On three we run out?” You suggest and that smile widens showing his pearly whites. The likes, emphasizing the lines around his nose, the type that tells you he’s smiling genuinely hard. 

“Now!” His hand takes a hold of your arm pulling you out of the funeral home while the entrance bell blares for the funeral director that you’re running out without sealing the deal. Mr. Holmes must have smelt the rejection from down the mortuary that he runs upstairs with a bloodied apron still on, stumbling on the disgusting carpet that stains his polished shoes. 

He yells something that sounds like begging whines, intermixed with growls. All fading when he covers his mouth with his fist, the other clutching his disgusting apron. Jaehyun had learned that this funeral home was the most successful one. Not a single decline for the past two years – of course all due to their pushiness. This will be the first time. You make sure to annotate that on the pocket notebook you’ve been clutching since entering.

That initiated your journey of looking through funeral homes with him. Jaehyun wasn’t quiet, he liked to talk a lot. If the dog was pissing on the side of the road he’d laugh then become concerned for its safety but wouldn’t stop the car to help it onto the sidewalk. 

He talked about how horrible the paneling in the second funeral home was. How the humidity had sunk in and now the walls were swollen. He talked about the light fixtures in the second funeral home. The light bulbs were foggy and therefore made the place look disgusting. It reminded you eerily of your mother. Word for word and it made you resent him without trying. Jaehyun talked a lot about everything but mostly about a past that you don’t recall.

“Do you remember Dorcas Reus.” He animatedly questions. “No.” You respond, scowling at how the whipped cream on his milkshake clung to his cheek. “No, I don’t either.” He nods to himself without looking at you. This time he hesitates, lips twisting to the side as he contemplates his next words.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Y/n.” There it is. Took him long enough considering the nature of your time together this day. You reassure him with a smile, nodding while the words slowly process in your brain and your mouth agrees to let them out. It doesn’t want to but your tongue force them out. “Thank you.” He shares a quizzical look, one that tells you that maybe your answer is too cold and simple for people’s liking but it’s the best you can do.

If he had anything to say about it, he ignores it. “Truly, she was like a second mom to me.” There’s sincerity in each word that curdles the milk in your own milkshake, etching a scowl in your face as you push the glass away. 

It’s rich, coming from a stranger. 

It’s rich, of course anything associated with your sister will receive your mother’s love more than you’ve ever felt. 

It’s rich.

“Right.” 

He purses his lips, halting whatever words he had said afterwards from hearing you interject. He breathes through his nose, back firm against the cold backrest of the diner’s booth. It’s easy to sense what he feels, at least in that subject you can relate to him.

“Why isn’t my sister here by the way?”

“Right!” It’s more joyous coming from his mouth. Dwindling when the nature of reality comes back to him and it presents itself as a deep blush across his face and scorching warmth at the back of his neck. He rubs at it to cool it down but your steady gaze makes it unbearable. “You see, we had dinner with some others in your family.” Almost everyone. “And they’re all busy with the wedding, she’s busy with the wedding… I offered, it’s the least I can do for your mom.” 

Words are heavy in his mouth, thumping against the vinyl tabletop and bouncing your way. You know he’s sincere and that makes you hate him a bit more. He has more love for your mother than you and that bothers you. Because while you’re doing it out of self prescribed guilt and obligation he’s doing it because he actually likes her. 

Tuesday: Suffocation 

Jaehyun was much quieter the following day. That’s not to say he didn’t squabble at any given chance. Who knew he was highly passionate about tap shoes. All stemming from you giggling at how ugly some tap shoes in a garbage bin were. He scolded you like you’ve known each other for years. That may be true in his reality but in yours, you have no idea who this man is. 

He fears you’ve suffered from memory loss. Recalling almost every single event that you two went through in your early academic years but when you hum with a nod and he can tell you’re lying about remembering he sighs and nods, giving you a name of a classmate that he hasn’t talked to in years but recalls for some odd reason.

He was highly passionate about paneling as well. Yesterday, that was an important factor that made him discard all the other funeral homes. Today it was the flooring and after touring two other ones that expected you to give them your first born, here he was conversing with the funeral home director the same age as your father about how horrible things have become since Reagan entered. In the short span you’ve been with him, you’ve learned that he’s comfortable and decided. 

Mr. Nix was no better than Jaehyun, jumping from interest to interest like the fleas on the stray cat. He feeds it tuna and deli meats, the only things he will eat, Mr. Nix claims, emerging from the backroom with a packet and a bag of cookies in his other hand. Jaehyun chuckles along with him and you’re thankful that he’s here for the poor old man would be nothing but uncomfortable if it was just you.

He truly has a beautiful funeral home. The walls resemble your grandmother’s. Pristine white but clean with rinceau scrolls wrapping around the bottom and top of each wall. There’s no carpet, thankfully. Beautiful mosaic flooring with spring colors replacing it and form an image of an angel in the center where the body will be seen. It’s too expensive from sight alone and you fear what it will come to but this is for your mother. Even in death you try to please her.

“I’ve circled the pain points and the discounts amounted. We can handle a payment plan. I don’t usually do that but I can trust you folks.” He completes his chuckle, placing the packet on the marble counter. He turns somber, looking at the cookies as if they contain his soul. “Here,” he addresses you after all this time with a smile. “I’m sorry for your loss, dear. Lavender lemon cookies, they were your mom’s favorite… Your dad’s too.” 

The sincerity in his expression makes your chest ache. He knows your parents, he knows what your mother likes and what your father does too. He knows them and is making an effort to acknowledge your dad… unlike the rest of the world. It’s uncharacteristic of you but you sigh with a wide smile, taking the older man into an embrace. 

It takes him by surprise, though, he’s the wiser to know this is a confused little girl that needs some comfort. He pats your head — throwing a look at Jaehyun, one which means more to the younger than intended — while wrapping his own arms around you before you ease out of it within seconds. Embarrassed by yet another public humiliation ritual of your own. 

“Thank you, Mr. Nix… we’ll see you soon.” 

He nods, perplexed by your response. A sheer layer of horror from what Jaehyun’s eyes tell him and for a second he could be confused with clairvoyant if he was to speak his mind. 

Too much affection in one gaze. Too much affection for too little time.

You attempt to flip through the package in the car while he drives to the flower shop you were meant to meet your sister. Albeit, the weight of the cookies in your palm is uncomfortable. The clear bag prickles your skin, unbearable like the touch of microfiber cloth with the exception in which you feel this ten times worse. They smell divinely, you’ll give them that but your mind gnaws with memories you’ve pushed away with this confection in particular. 

Jaehyun is considerate enough to not question it. While he loves to talk, he knows you don’t. The most he utters is: “We’re here.” while he parks the car, a pathetic side smile attempting to comfort you. You thank him regardless, he’s been good enough to sweet talk the directors while you examine what the plans included. 

He’s been company. Good enough company.

There’s only three times you’ve been inside of the flower shop. Once to buy your mother a bouquet for mother’s day that she hated with her entire soul. Second, for your parent’s fifteenth anniversary. And most recently for your mother’s funeral preparations. It’s comforting how nothing has changed besides seasonal flowers and plants.

Your sister doesn’t hesitate to greet him with a kiss when the threshold is crossed. Pushing you aside like any obstacle in her way. Lord only knows your state of mind for this act was comforting and familiar enough that you smile to yourself, something Jaehyun doesn’t miss.

They converse for the time being, you don’t waste time on flipping through the mangled pieces of funeral arrangement catalogs and looking around to find flowers. Some look too old and battered for the price and others are simply to ugly for an arrangement. Well… maybe your mom does deserve those.

You’re not too sure when Jaehyun had joined your side. You only recall your eyebrows knitting when he pointed at something in your pocket notebook. “You misspelled that.” He utters playfully and it bothers you beyond belief that you ripped off the page and begin from the top again while listing all the flowers you thought were good. He responds with nods and hums, similar to the ones you give your sister when she shows you flowers instead of her soon to be husband.

She doesn’t trust him. She doesn’t trust her soon to be husband.

The grating voice in the back of your head keeps gnawing at your brain, reaching your eye sockets and forcing your eyelids to bunch up together the louder your sister laughs with the clerk and Jaehyun’s voice rumbles against your ear drums. Incessant and miserable, yet, not comparable to the twinging screech of the credit card imprinter laughing at you for another failed attempt at maintaining the peace. 

Eyes wide open, your body abrasively turns to your sister and the clerk. Reaching them with three long strides while your eyes bore holes into the imprinter that’s full to the max with your father’s credit card. “What the hell?” It’s raw and vulnerable and so pathetic that you want to rip your hair out when all she musters is a pitiful mocking-faux-confused grin. 

“Why did you ask to meet here if you’re not even helping in finding flower arrangements for mom’s funeral?” Good, less whiny but still pathetic in everyone’s eyes. “Jaehyun is here for that.” She shrugs nonchalantly all the while she signs the receipt the clerk hands her. 

“What’s that for?” Jaehyun interjects in the conversation. His lips are puckered in a way you’ve never seen and his features are sharper than you’d ever imagine they could become. She dismisses him too. With a scoff this time to express her discontent and it makes you question many menial things that shouldn’t matter in this second. “Last minute additions, don’t worry.”

Jaehyun felt far more bothered than you’d think he’d be. Frustration carves itself on his face and for a second you believe the words spewing from his mouth would tattoo themselves onto his face. “We came to a deal that you’d stop spending on the wedding. It’s too near for you to spend willy-nilly when you should worry about your mother!” He does not intend to bawl, obvious by the red that tinges his ears. 

You don’t fall too behind, taking advantage of Jaehyun’s generosity knowing he’d back you up if things worsen. “We had a deal too. You can’t just spend dad’s money on things you don’t need anymore. The caterer was enough, Jesus Christ!” Her name teeters near the precipice of your tongue but that would humanize her too much. 

Bewilderment becomes her new acquaintance. Visibly upset at the turn of events that hold her words off in the back of her throat with a net of saliva too thick to swallow. Airy protests, the best she can utter before her body has mercy on her and she screeches, offendedly at the gang up she’s never experienced before. Only witnessed through your disadvantage.

“Well fucking sue me!” Her arms flail animatedly, harsh when they grace against both your arms ‘accidentally’. Her mouth is still puckered in offended disbelief showing more than her teeth— those gums she’s not fond of. “Fucking sue me for wanting a pretty wedding as a way to cope over mom being fucking dead!” And so bratty. “Cancel it! Cancel the transaction and take the stupid card if I’m such a burden to you two!”

How familiar, how comforting. It brings a smile to your face and your eyes close for a second. She truly is your mother’s daughter. Even in the way she runs out of the flower shop, crocodile tears staining her tulle scarf. 

Her theatrics force your head to shake with an eye roll as you sign the canceling transaction forms. The clerk is upset at the loss but very much entertained with Jaehyun’s dilemma. The man standing in the middle of the store with hands on his hips looking at the crystal door and seeing your sister hop inside the car. 

You don’t hear any crying, that’s something she still needs to learn to do. Cry loud enough to be heard from miles away to get her tantrum through. That’s what mom would do. 

“Lilies or peonies?” You ask the clerk, a contemplative look on her face. She thinks both are horrid but will offer you both to make up for the loss you caused. “Lavender,” Jaehyun answers for her. It shocks you that he’s still in here and not with your sister. No, it upsets you that he’s still here. With you and not her. 

“She hated lavender.” You deny confidently, that is the one thing you’re sure about your mother. He’s kind and gentle, at least his smile is when he attempts to correct you. “She always bought lavender stocks. Said they were the most delicious thing she’s ever known to exist.” It’s a fond memory of his. “Mr. Nix is right. She loved lavender lemon cookies.” 

His stupid chuckle was the lowest blow, not even the way his eyes narrowed pissed you off more than his stupid affectionate tone. And if he had doubts that you were your mothers daughter and his fiancee's sister, he’d be reassured you are with the way you shut the dingy catalogs and shove your pocket notebook into your purse. Brashly walking out of that overbearing floral shop. 

Jaehyun is sweet. He’s kind and patient. He’s understanding, putting his incessant vice of speaking behind to let you think in peace. His glances don’t go unnoticed by you and you don’t know how to take it. His presence annoys you but it’s also very comforting that you don’t know how you’d handle these preparations without his support. It’s a game of push and pull where you’re the only one playing at his expense and he’s still there. Stuck with nostalgia over things you don’t recall.

“Do you remember Karla Morris?” “That’s not a real person.” “I know.” Jaehyun turns to you at a stop light, laughing at your attempt to emulate him. You smile at him flatly which is good enough for him to know you’re feeling better. 

“I want to eat dinner with my dad tonight.” Jaehyun nods, taking a right. “I do too. We’ll pick something up on the way.” He quickly adds before you push him away. So little time and he knows your habits already. Allowing the word ‘alone’ to die in the cavity of your mouth and expel through a sigh that draws you towards the lavender lemon cookies on your lap. Your fingers shiver with a need to crush each one inside the bag.

“She hated lavender lemon cookies. She made it a mission to remind me every day after she spat out the ones I made for her.” A frown tugs at your lips, received with neutral understanding. “Said it tasted like stale soap.” Your chuckle must’ve been so bitter that his hand lands on yours, letting one of the cookies crack underneath the weight.

“How long ago was that?” “I was twelve.” “How old are you now?”

Like clockwork, your neck cranes slowly. Eyes narrowed in a mix of disdain and playfulness. “I know what you’re doing.” You crack a smile, annoyed but amused. Irritated but surprisingly endeared. He laughs louder than before, his smile as big as when you first met him. 

“Minds change, people change, taste buds too… maybe consider it.” It’s so easy for him to say that it reminds you why his presence irritates you so much. He’s sweet, kind, and patient. Then he speaks and it’s a giveaway that he doesn’t understand. Not the way you want him to. 

Your mother never changes. She was adamant in drilling that through everyone's head. Boasting and celebrating when she had heard a song the previous year that resonated with her about nothing being able to change her.

“Who cares what I do and say. I’m this way and I’ll never change.”

Your mother is two sides of the same coin that you and Jaehyun share with the exception that you’ll always be on the losing end when it comes to flipping it. Jaehyun understands when to step down but he doesn’t understand what it is to be your mother’s child. Let alone her oldest daughter.

Wednesday: Condescension

“Hey! Settle in, dad is watching TV. I’ll be in the kitchen with Mrs. Mimi for a bit.” 

The house is livelier than Jaehyun recalls. His last visit was the day your mother was taken away and the color had been drained from every wall in this vicinity. Now it’s warm and homey again like Christmas Eve. You as well, he blindly believes. Your inviting smile lures him into a reality where nothing life altering has happened. A smile he remembers vividly on a thirteen year old Y/n, as foreign it is to you now.

He knows this house like the back of his hand and when he reaches your father there’s a serenity to his face that calms Jaehyun further. Your mother’s portraits are soft again and there’s noise in the house. So much noise that makes Jaehyun want to sigh in relief. Things are normal again! Please be normal again…

Rek is next to your dad’s recliner chair, grumbling when he smells Jaehyun. He wasn’t familiar with Mrs. Mimi nor her dog but he often left treats for it outside the front door per request from your dad. Your mother hated it and through the pet, Jaehyun could taste the demise you’ve known for longer. One crack on the wall doesn’t always bring it down.

Catalogs are scattered across the rug, TV’s reflection on the worn out glossy covers. Neither speak for what feels like an eternity after greetings, entertained with their own fixations. Your father mimicked the dog’s complaints with everything wrong from last year's F1 championship results. He hated every single driver and team but his hate watch was more entertaining.

“Y/n, your boyfriend is on screen.” He calls over when the rerun for the Portugal Grand Prix began. “Y/n likes Nigel Mansell.” Your father clears it with Jaehyun as if it was meant to bother the younger. Jaehyun smiles cluelessly, “He’s not very good.” Your dad whispers, you still hear him. “He lost the championship by two points, don’t be like that.” You defend in a whine and Jaehyun understands now why your father would try to clear things up with him.

“He’s too old for you.” “He’s only five years older.” “Well he looks too old.”

Your dad’s quibble is comedic and protective; Jaehyun scowls, confused on how this man was anywhere near both your ages when he looked to be nearing your father’s age. Happy on the podium with his trophy and champagne on hand looking in his 40s, only thirty-three.

It’s all forgotten when you lie besides him on the floor, flipping through worn out catalog pages and jotting down notes. It’s a different notebook now. This one is in brown leather and binder rings in the middle. Loose pages of paper, cards, and receipts in every pocket. Occasionally you’ll make a wrong move that makes many of those scrap pages slip out. From that he’s seen a few words that he doesn’t think he’s meant to see. It’s the most he’s received to be filled in on your life. 

Now he knows you like a daily Dunkin’. You frequent the movie theater six times a week (one singular ticket with a large drink), spend too much at Tower Records, and hate going to the mall but love to watch people. "Pathetic, solitary, weird, but real.” as it read from the back of a dirty Pretzel Peddler receipt.

You don’t ask him for input on the flower arrangements. Both of you working in silence with a few glances from your dad here and there. Jaehyun himself flips through catalogs, reading everything you jot down without finding your notes useful. 

While prices and deals claim your focus, Jaehyun’s is taken by the symbolism of even the smallest flower he can find. You’ve chosen pre-made arrangements and wreaths, all white and boring. His lips twist in a disappointed scowl that lets it pass while he circles the things he likes. 

He doesn’t stop your robotics until you pull out the order form. Sliding closer to you with urgency, gripping your hand to not continue. “Those are nice, yeah. But… here,” he points at the first flowers he marked. “Your mom got a kick out of pulling little pranks. Laughing when the kids that set off car alarms were zapped every time they attempted to ding-dong-ditch. Geraniums, for happiness, joy.” 

There, that fondness is again. The one that laughs at you for not knowing small things. Reinforced when your dad lets out a sly chuckle himself, shaking his head at a memory you’re fabricating in your head. 

“I think if we add purple Morning Glories for happiness, blue Day lilies that have represented mothers since the Tang Dynasty and white Lilies and Roses like you originally planned then we’d have good arrangements with a message.” 

Jaehyun is ecstatic, the twinkle in his eyes tell you he means no malice but the seed that your mother planted whispers in your ear that he’s doing it for the same reasons little kids that like to gloat speak about their vacation trips and birthday presents.

Words tussle among themselves in your mouth, fighting to see in which tone they will leave and whether they’ll be harsh or not. Shaky as they come, rattling every tooth in your mouth, “Too colorful, no? She hated blue.” So matter-of-factly that makes Jaehyun smile politely knowing he’s going to correct you.

“She loved blue. Wore it daily after that blue dress you had for our silver anniversary.” Your dad kindly recalls the memory. 

The same blue dress she called you a doxy for. 

Jaehyun’s twinkle dies when he turns to you. He can’t see your eyes but feels the heat from your body radiate. “Okay, write them down.” You push the form and pen his way, taking the unopened catalogs. “And add Petunias in there.” He doesn’t question the finality, not the significance. It’s the least he can do.

Mrs. Mimi calls for everyone, dinner was ready despite it being four in the afternoon. Your father is the most eager, cackling like he hasn’t since the doomed day. It’s nice enough to kill it with your questions. 

“Dad? Did mom really like lavender?” Sheepish and childlike, memories that are not strong enough to dwindle the ache in his chest. He turns to you, forcing a smile with his nod. “Yes… everyone that wanted her knew lavenders were her favorites. They’d give these huge bouquets that would make her sneeze. I always gave her the smallest ones, she said it was the perfect amount every time.” He laughs, ignoring your stare to let the fond memories flow. “She would make lavender lemon cookies with them. Your grandma, though, hated them. Spat them out every time there was any and called them soap.” He shakes his head frantically, more so to avoid the guilt from your glazing eyes.

Forsaken with the clicking of keys when your sister opens the front door. 

Dinner goes as expected, silent besides the blaring voice of your sister talking about her wedding. Mrs. Mimi is the only one to ask questions and Jaehyun gives polite smiles and nods to your sister for reassurance. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about but this makes her happy.

Your dad on the other hand had reverted to the state you saw him when you first arrived. Eating slowly while you flip through JCPenny catalogs for the outfit your mother was to choose. Everything is horrendous and overpriced, choosing whatever looks the most appropriate. 

“That’s hideous, Y/n. Don’t do that.” Your sister cuts off her wedding talk, projecting a disgusted face at the white dress you had circled. You had drowned out her voice for the past hour that it startled you to be acknowledged. The deer-in-headlights look like you gave her only forcing a scoff to leave. Snatching the catalog from your hands and sliding it her way. 

Disgusted, she’s not shy about it with every flip of the page. Sly comments here and there while Jaehyun whispers that it’s unnecessary. “No, mom would rather die again than be seen wearing these.” She pettishly wails, the same offended look from yesterday. When Jaehyun turns quiet and your dad stops eating, she halts her own actions knowing it may have been tone deaf.

“Silly sis…” She giggles. “I’m just saying that if you had stayed you’d know she wasn’t a fan of simple but not quite flashy.” No matter how sugar sweet her voice is, the patronizing doesn’t quaver. She gives you the smile she uses to calm down Jaehyun with no effect at all on you. 

“Fine, you choose that and let me choose the jewelry from her box before you keep them, yeah?” You try to reason, sighing exhaustively with your fingers raking through your tousled hair. And if the clothes were bad, the mention of jewelry was far worse. 

“What?! No! No, no.” She laughs off her feelings, nervous with the confused looks that even Mrs. Mimi is giving her now. It’s awkward and tense but she can’t believe this is being said to her. “No, I just think it’s dangerous. It’s going to be an open casket service and with how the family has been acting…” Her head bobbles with the insinuation. She’s right but you also know her and you know she’s full of shit. “I think it’s best that she doesn’t take anything. Free of worry for everyone and she can rest without having to think of grave thieves as well.” 

You’d think she made a great point with the self reassured nod she gives, looking at her fiance to make sure he’s following her drift but turns to your father angrily when Jaehyun glares at her. Something she hasn’t seen since you arrived. Your dad on the other hand avoids her gaze the way he avoided yours.

He’s always been cowardly.

“You won’t even let her take her daily wear? Not her ring and earrings, at least?” The disbelief in your voice irks her, annoyed that your voice sounds as patronizing as hers when addressing you. You’ve overstayed your time and if it wasn’t for the funeral planning she would’ve kicked you out like your mother times past. No, she simply sighs, and shakes her head with a faux pensive look on her face.

“I want to wear them for my wedding—” “You have two large jewelry boxes for that.” “Something borrowed… something old, something new, something blue. The daily fits all the marks.”

No she wasn’t going to give her jewelry to be buried six feet underground. Who is she to let good jewelry corrode for no one to see?

Your mother’s favorite daughter.

“If you see fit…” Your father answers before you can, eyes glued to the dog that silently wails in pain for reasons unknown to you all. “Dad… she loved those earrings.” You try to reason, begging in silence for him to look at you. To look at you when you’re speaking, for fucks sake!

He’s not strong enough for that. He’s never been strong for anything related to your mother. Mustering only the art of shaking his hand to settle things down. “It would be lovely to see either of you wear them… It so happens your mother wants her to have them. They are hers now to decide their faith.” The heaviness of his voice is heartbreaking and it turns your mind to sludge. The toxic kind that evaporates and poisons the entire universe if it’s let out. Like fungal spores.

“Even dad knows best.” Your sister throws the rock that decidedly let out that venom and for their own good you shake your own thoughts away, fingernails clinging to the cushion as you push your chair away. Your father’s disappointment on your sister matters no more, he still made his choice to enable her choices. He’s a coward as much as Jaehyun that only offers apologetic looks.

“Yes… Excuse me then, I’ll go make some calls.” You utter with your father’s monotonous voice. He winces hearing the similarities and the sound of your steps. A coward. He knows he’s a coward but will do nothing about it. He’s lived too long this way.

You don’t know how long time passes, all you know is your nose won’t stop being stuffy and your eyes are trying to force out tears that won’t come. Making you feel like the worst daughter to ever exist. 

It’s useless to try to cry, groaning out of frustration and taking the pack of cigarettes you bought a few days ago when you felt the same way. Making your way out your room to chip a piece of paint from your mother’s hallway portraits on the way downstairs towards the backyard. 

A fluorescent blue that was always calming as a child illuminates the pool. Moonlight makes it more soothing and it reminds you of the times you spent your summers as toddlers swimming with your sister and father at night because that’s the only times you'd see him in those days. 

The days when your sister inherently loved you. 

The memory fades away with the smoke you exhale, trying to cling with no avail after the sigh that follows right after.

“Mind if I have one?” Jaehyun’s soothingly grating voice cranes your neck. The sound of the sliding doors keeps you grounded. Tossing the box his way to catch, with a box of matches. He manages to catch the larger box while the matches recoil in his grasp, jumping into the pool. 

A bummer, you really liked the iconography in the back.

“Sorry…” He sighs, scolded with the look you give him when you stand up from your crouching position. Connecting your lit cigarette with his. The proximity to his face lets you see the small details you hadn’t noticed this entire time. His eyes are darker than you remember. They’re nice, they’re warm. You like them…

Jaehyun had been inhaling deeply during the transaction, heavily letting it out in the form of smoke when he thanked you. A good distance between you both that transcends into a comfortable silence; cigarettes racing among each other to see which one burns the fastest. 

Ironically, his does, leaving him with nothing else to concentrate on besides what he has been thinking about telling you all afternoon. He licks his lower lip, looking between you, the conch shell ashtray that looks too familiar, the pool, and you again. His eyes tracing over that pattern to put off the remaining bud. 

“I’ll talk to her. About the jewelry. Don’t worry.” He nods like he’s doing you a favor. The last bit of cigarette burning away with the stare you give him. Exuding energy that makes your cigarette burn faster and force the smoke to frantically leave. 

“Can we not?” Irritated was the tone of your voice that made him wince and cower away. “I’m sorry.” He offers and he truly is but the awkwardness eats him away. He’s like a child trying to bond with their cool older neighbor that pays them no mind and finds them annoying.

“Everyone just seems to know her more than I do, it’s pathetic.” You derail, it’s whiny and peevish like your sister’s tone. “Does it fully bother you?” He questions, weighing the similarities. “It does for now but I think once I go back, I won’t care again.” Your lips purse, humming contemplatively. He mimics yours expressions and sounds, nodding as a difference. “Count your days then.”

Not much has made you laugh but this does, showing him a smile he hasn’t seen in days. “It sounds like a threat.” You joke, he follows with a chuckle and a grin, “It is. But a threat to not think too much about it.” 

He knows how to kill the mood.

“It’s my mom’s funeral, how can I not?” You’re irked. He knows he’s irked you once again and he yearns to know when he should stop. It’s overbearing and tiring for him to keep fucking up but he doesn’t know when to stop talking. 

“I didn't mean it like that, I’m sorry… That was too aloof on my part, I'm sorry.” He begs, eyebrows knitted looking at you. His eyes are still dark but hurt unlike earlier.

“I don't know how to take it either, Jaehyun.” You grumble, standing up from your spot, putting the cigarette bud off on the delicate shell that cracks with the heat. The silence surrounding both isn’t comfortable like it was only a few minutes ago. It’s tense and intoxicating, filling his lungs with tar making them heavy and he knows he can’t stay here for longer.

“Her wedding outfit. What she was going to wear for our wedding. You should choose that.” It sounds strange, ‘our wedding’ like he’s talking about his and your wedding not his and your sister’s wedding. You go stiff at the thought, it’s too intimate and immoral. It’s you now that needs to get out of there before you let the repression do or say anything stupid. 

Your hands tingle when they clasp onto the sliding door handle, his gaze on your turned back holding you in place. You’re sure neither of you know what either want but whatever you’re feeling shouldn’t be there. A goodnight is polite, better than bye yet neither wants to leave your cold lips aching for warmth. No, rather you slide the door open leaving him behind.

Between your own, your mother’s ghost’s, and your father’s judgment the heaviness persists the longer the older man looks at you without speaking. He’s looking at you. He’s finally looking at you directly in the eyes with a distraught disappointment as if he knows what you’re thinking. There he knew you’re also your father’s daughter. Cowering away from anything remotely complicated. The words evident in the harsh smoke of your father’s own cigar when walking past him.

Thursday: Pathetic

Jaehyun hadn’t mentioned anything from the previous night when he came around to pick you up. Your father hadn’t either, not like he would anyways. Mrs. Mimi had let Jaehyun in, forcing him to eat breakfast with the rest of you while Rek growled at him anytime he got near you to speak. The dog truly was not fond of him for whatever reason which wounded Jaehyun and confused you. Your father didn’t voice it but thought the dog was too perspective for either of you. The boundary that separates it all.

But Rek wasn’t here with you two at the funeral home, listening to the radio that gets drawn out by Mr. Nix and Jaehyun as they speak about the weather while you flip through the order forms to make sure everything is correct. 

You nitpick at everything. From Jaehyun’s horrible chicken scratch handwriting to the awkward paint chips on the decor. Similar enough and in places that resemble the ones you’ve made on your mother’s portraits around the house these past days.

“Lavender and Lilies… that’s lovely… your mother would’ve loved it.” Mr. Nix’s soothing voice attracts your attention, craning your neck to see him reading the order form still in your hands. 

He smiles widely, laughing quietly until it turns into a sob upon sensing your eyes on him. It’s startling, feeling like a bubble for only you two being created. Jaehyun was no longer anywhere in sight and the doorbells by the backdoor kept ringing melodiously. You’ve never been great in these situations. 

Comfort was only granted by coworkers after you got scolded for a mistake, none very genuine. Or by strangers who wanted the feel of one night with you. Mr. Nix wants nothing of that sort from you, you’re not even sure if he wants comfort with the way his smile tries to not seize. 

“I loved your mother, you know. She was my first love and I want to think I was hers too.” He sniffles, a handkerchief in his hand that you never saw him take out. “Of course she would say your father was but she had been choosing between the two before going steady with either.” He nods as if it was common sense. You knew your mother loved your father but she could have loved him as much as you with the way she took her hatred out on him when you weren’t around.

“Your grandmother never liked me. Not sure why but she just didn't.” He shrugs, lips pursed in surrender. “Your mother would say it was because I made her happy and it’s something your grandmother didn't like. I could see that.”

Oh.

The apple was rotten right to the core from all those that came before. 

“I don’t know when it happened but suddenly the next thing I knew about your mother was that she was getting married to your father. That sent me into a spiral and when I returned from my breakdown trip, you were already here.” Melancholy floods those poor foggy eyes, cataracts forming from pain. He looks at you for longer than you’d like, sensing his desire to know what floods your mind but you’re as hard to read as your mother was, eliciting a chuckle. 

“I gave her one last call to ask how labor had been, to make sure she was fine and when you cried, we both said our goodbyes. We knew that was it. Y/n, that’s the name we’d give a girl if we ever had one.” 

There’s no more wonder why Jaehyun and Mr. Nix get along so well, both are horrendous at keeping to themselves and both know how to irk your nerves beyond belief. 

Maybe this is why your mother chose your mousy father rather than this chatterbox.

Regret floods Mr. Nix at your perpetual silence and where he hadn’t been able to tell what you were feeling earlier, he could feel your frustrated disgust concentrated in the blank look. It’s warm, piercing, and as painful as the ones your mother would give him. 

You’re just like her.

Mr. Nix sighs, gaze dropping with a final sigh, “Congratulations on your wedding, dear. Jaehyun cares for you deeply. Trust me…” It dawns upon you that Mr. Nix thought you’re the one marrying Jaehyun. It brings that similar pit in your stomach from last night. 

‘Our wedding.’

Yours and Jaehyun’s. Not your sisters and Jaehyun’s.

Every bone in your body attempts to not combust into powder. Neurons arguing among themselves on how to respond or if to ignore him. He’s added damage to your perception of your mother, you’re not too sure he’s deserving of any more socially appropriate politeness.

The backdoor bells ring, blaring content for what is being brewed in this room. It’s uncomfortable, disgustingly sticky tension the while you look at Mr. Nix and he looks back at you with confusion and somewhat freight. Eerie how similar you resemble your mother. 

“Ready to go? Apparently your sister wants me to pick up the veil.” Jaehyun sighs looking at his pager, the TV guide in his hand crumpled with burnt edges. He had been clenching to it as he smoked one of your cigarettes.

“Yes,” You tear your gaze from the older of the three, he releases a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Glad this easy solution rids him of the painstaking sharp stab in his chest. “Mr. Nix wanted to congratulate us.” You add, turning back to him.

“On?” Jaehyun quizzically questions, “Your wedding, consider all of this my wedding gift for you both and… for your mother.” Mr. Nix turns back to you, a polite apologetic smile for what he has dumped. 

Neither you or Jaehyun correct him, the latter thanking him with a hug while you wait by the door for him. He doesn’t speak to you the entirety of the car ride to the bridal shop. Perhaps he’s angry you didn’t correct Mr. Nix but neither did he so it’s much his fault as it is yours. Or perhaps he’s grown tired of your hot and cold behavior with the slightest inconvenience. 

Regardless, it’s not for him to care how you react nor do you care.

“Why didn’t you correct him?” He sighs, looking forward. He has that same sunken look he had given your sister last night. You don’t think it’s comparable. In no form is your sister priving your mother of the luxury she grew to know to you not correcting your mother’s old flame about who Jaehyun was to marry. If it mattered that much to him, then he shouldn’t have enabled the old man with a cheery smile and a hug. 

You still can’t fathom that he thought you and Jaehyun were the ones getting married. Are you not obvious with how little comfort you find in Jaehyun? Is it not obvious that you can barely stand him? Or is your solitude too grand that people find it a breath of fresh air that someone like Jaehyun floods your vicinity with his polite affection and caring nagging? As if he’s doing you a favor.

Pathetic is what you are seen as in everyone’s eyes. Even Jaehyun's, it seems.

“I’m not the one getting married. You are.”

Friday: Has killed you

It’s filthy, disgusting, and shameful. The wake, everything is beautifully decorated, making you forget it's a funeral, save for the countless pictures of your mother and weeping crowd. You're not sure they're sincere but it makes your father feel calm seeing the masses of people approach the casket. "She's loved." He fondly claims, a sadden smile plastered on his face.

You don't have the heart nor will to remind him that they're all here for appearances and in hopes of taking more things once home. Maybe that's the pessimist in you who cannot fathom your mother being genuinely adored. The words affection and mother are foreign to each other in your mind.

Besides your aunts, sister — surprising despite her indifference this entire week—, and Mr. Nix, you don't hear much wailing. Your father is holding his breath to not shatter in front of all these people.

Chatter from one end to the other, mostly prayer. A part of you feels envious of their ability to let everything out. Why is it that you have to suffer with the weight of your unexplored emotions? Leaving you to dry heave or tear at your hair when nothing expels. Why is it so easy for everyone else to let things go?

Jaehyun's persistent staring doesn't make it any easier. He's made it a mission to fly around you like a hungry vulture waiting for its prey to finally give out and then consume.

Surely, he's not. He's making sure you're doing fine, keeping an eye on you but Lord, do you fucking loathe it. You don't understand it, would be a better descriptor, but it irritates you that he cares so much that you can't fathom any other emotion but dislike.

Perhaps what makes it worse is that your sister is there by his side, every second. You reckon you could handle it if it was just him. After all, this isn't the first time he's kept a watchful eye on you. He's done it the entire week, it just feels too real today out of all days.

Everything is felt too deeply. Today.

Tomorrow is your sister's wedding. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Tomorrow is meant to be happy and full of love. But today has killed you. Today has killed any positive perception of those around. It has killed your sensibility and everything is nothing but a shit show. A shit show like Jaehyun described when reconnecting.

Fuck, even that bothers you.

He talks and talks and talks about something that happened before college that you have no prior memory of. The people he mentions, the events, the laughter, the year. You don't remember anything prior to getting a bachelors, how is it that this stranger that is marrying your sister knows more about your life than you do?

How does he know more about your mother than you?

"Y/n!"

Embarrassing. Zoning out in your mother's funeral service.

Mrs. Mimi, the much perceptive, gives you a pitiful smile, hand to your shoulder to hand you a warm Dixie cup. Your head's attempt to shake is futile, the muscles of your neck refuse to move. 

"You look tired,"

"More like sickly." Your sister interrupts. Jaehyun looks down at her with furrowed eyebrows to scold. "Drink it, ‘should give you some energy." Mrs. Mimi pushes the cup further into your hand. It's warm and comforting in a sense you haven't experienced.

Despite the bitter taste of ginger and apples in the tea, you drink it. It brings no energy boost, rather it makes you more sleepy but she had all the intention to make you feel better and that keeps you up for longer.

A mother. At least that is what you think a mother should do and Mrs. Mimi was a wonderful mother. Even to those she did not birth.

"Do you remember Jo Josephine?" Jaehyun utters, leaning into you. You hadn't realized when he had sat beside you or when you had been ushered onto a chair.

"No." "No? Really?"

The surprise in his tone doesn't go overlooked. He tends to hum when you respond as such but not this time.

"She was your friend. Always wore a huge gardener hat and gloves with bee print." He chuckles, a surprised chuckle. "Yeah?" You hum, dazed. Well maybe the tea was effective in relaxing your senses. "No, I don't remember any of my friends. It's been too long since I saw any of them." You shrug, the nonchalance in your tone worrying Jaehyun.

Per usual, Jaehyun goes on a tangent about something you don't recall. You've learned to drown his voice out. Muffled in the sea of weeps, his laughter the only outlier that doesn't last long. Another voice joins him but you're too busy with the liquid in your cup to care for what they ought to say.

There's some liquid in the cup. Enough to submerge the small cubes of ginger and apples but cold against your tongue. You swivel around the cup, making it colder. For a part of you longs to be in their place than here. Swimming in a pool of cold water with no preoccupation of the outside world. Being inanimate sounds desirable.

"Y/n!"

It's that same incessant call from earlier. This time you're able to pin it to your sister that looks at you far more annoyed. She grumbles under her breath about something you don't care to hear as Mr. Nix gives you that same pitiful smile Mrs. Mimi had given you. It'd be ironic if he was to give you some tea as well.

"Carriage and burial space is ready to transfer your mother's body." He meekly comments, he's as stuffy as your sister had been. Mustering a nod, you stand up from your spot, not noticing Jaehyun's help when standing up. His hand feels warm against the small of your back.

A huge part of you wants to blame your disconnect with whatever Mrs. Mimi had given you. One second you were standing up at the funeral home giving Jaehyun a long look that for once made your sister quizzical and upset while his hand remained on you and the next you're watching how roses are being tossed over your mother’s casket as Jaehyun ushers you into Mrs. Mimi's car.

The priest's prayer had been the only thing you remember vividly. Reciting every word in hushed murmurs — drowned by the cackling and chattering in the other rooms of the house — while serving coffee into Dixie cups. Mrs. Mimi often tries to take the tray away from your hands and Rek to absorb all of your attention. Both fail miserably.

Jaehyun hadn't stopped looking your way. He tries what Mrs. Mimi and her dog do but he's received harshly. Rather, you send him to make sure no one tries to take anything else or go upstairs to bother your exhausted father, hidden away in his bedroom. The masses of people downstairs and their brewing questions had kept him awake all night.

Your sister? Doing what your mother would have done. Entertain and please the guests. She's your mother's favorite for a reason.

By 20:00 when your mother had passed, she led the novena prayer. The only moment of silence and unity you felt among your extended family and for a second you believed there could be some good in these people.

Of course by 21:03 when prayer was done and they reverted to their constant chatter about stories of old regarding your mother, that serenity left your body once more.

It's outstanding how these memories sound so loving and nurturing. Something you can't recall from your mother. They laugh and cackle about her scoldings. How she'd yell at them for running inside the house, wet from the pool. But it was you that had to clean the entire house right after. It was you that had to make sure there was no chlorine smell left behind.

Your cousins laugh about the time they had attempted to smash your face on your 8th birthday cake but she had told them to not be rude. She had done it. She had smashed your face on that cake and it was difficult to rid away the smell of artificial strawberries from your nose after the jam had gone too far up. The cake was destroyed and they had all gotten upset at you. You never had a party after that. It's been twenty years.

Or the story your aunt is on and on about now. She had gotten so upset at your mother for not letting her borrow grandma's gold bangles for clubbing that she bent them without anyone knowing. Your mom had blamed you for it a week later after making you get them for her in hopes to wear them for a PTA meeting. Your sister's pet at the time had gotten in your way and to avoid stepping on it, you fell. She chalked it up to that and left you to do chores for your aunt an entire week.

There's no way your sensibility can return when all these funny and fond memories of your mother came at your expense and none of them care. None of them will ever care.

You can't take it anymore, rushing upstairs into your room to hide away. You can't say you feel saddened. You do feel a raging heat in your chest that attempts for you to bring your fists hard at your thighs to release it.

The intruder in your room doesn't let that happen. It surprises and annoys you at the same time seeing them there. On your bed with hands on their head while weeping harder than the wailing in public earlier today.

"I'm sorry, my room was locked." Your sister sniffles, slowly turning to look at you. There's a horrific sincerity in her voice that you're not used to. A frame rests on her lap, jittering with her legs.

Your silence draws her attention, handing you the frame while tears flood her waterline. It's a picture of your mother with the both of you. Quite honestly, you don't remember this. It's surprising to see your mother this affectionate with you. Arms encircling your waist and kissing your face.

"Grandma's funeral trip. We went to the lake on the way home, remember?" She questions, blowing her nose. You shake your head, standing straight. You hadn't attempted to take the frame from her hand. You're sure it would leave a branding on your palm, there's no way this is real.

The look in her eye is similar to the one Jaehyun gives you when you don't remember what he's talking about. Although, his is more comprehensive and patient.

"You don't remember this at all?" She asks, taken aback. You want to lie and say you do but knowing who she's marrying, she will just ask follow up questions too. "No." She scoffs in disbelief, swallows it before blinking rapidly. Patient, that's new.

"Mom was ecstatic that week. Rejoicing that the witch was dead and no one would torment her anymore. She treated you better than me for an entire month. Do you not remember that?" She prods, placing the frame on your bed.

You shake your head, she can only laugh. "What has she done to you…" She sighs to herself. She had heard in college about trauma causing memory loss but she had never guessed your mother had been that harsh for you to repress everything. Maybe she just hadn't seen her worse but you can't tell her either. You don't remember, after all.

"Would you be a stand-in for her tomorrow?" She questions meekly. You want to say no, to tell her you would rather miss the wedding at this point but she gives you no chance. "Please?" Her voice wavers, lips quiver. Here come the waterworks.

"I don't know about you, Y/n. But I miss mom so dearly and not having her on the day she was looking forward to is—" She sobs, covering her mouth with the frame, lips falling over your mother.

"Why not ask one of our aunts?" Your voice is hoarse. She shakes her head, pursed lips in disgust. "I'm not letting those hags get their hands on mom's jewelry. You heard them, yeah? Worms for brains all of them." She scoffs before releasing a forlorn sigh.

"Dad doesn't want to look at you because you look so much like mom today." She confesses. It would explain why he's avoided you. "You're even wearing the dress she wore for grandma's funeral." She tries to laugh yet it comes out as a shaky sob. 

"Mrs. Mimi left it out for me…" You defend, she shrugs. "I told her to." She shrugs again like it was the most sane thing to do. You're not sure how to take this. On one hand it seems like psychological warfare on your father — cruel on her part even if she doesn't see it — and on the other, it's the closest you'll be to your mother.

"You look so much like her. More than I do… It would bring peace to me if you were her stand in." She breathes deeply and exhales heavily. She's trying to seem relaxed before breaking into yet another sob. The one that makes her entire body shake and fall onto your bed, clutching onto the frame that's now against her chest.

"I didn't want her to take her daily stack so you could wear it… Not because I'm that much of a heartless bitch, Y/n. I loved mom." She cries some more. 

It’s rich, considering she said she wanted to wear it for her wedding. Whether you believe either version or not, doesn’t matter. Not when she hugs you in hopes it digs your heels deeper. It's stale and awkward but she revels in it, hiding in the crook of your neck as she cries harder.

"You smell like mom too." She wants to confess, but she knows it would drive you away. She'll take what she can get before you leave them all once again.

"Will you?" She voices, pulling away. "I don't w— don’t know." You don't want to. She knows it. 

"Why are you like this?" The question everyone has meant to ask. "Like?" Your indifferent confusion bothers her further.

"You're like a doll that gains consciousness for a certain amount of time and then you're… a doll again. Quiet, clueless, awkward. No offense, sissy. It's just… not what I remember you as at all." There's a sigh stuck in her chest, it clamps around her lungs but it refuses to leave. There's a sincere worry in her voice that makes your own set beliefs waver but you won't break that wall just yet.

You shrug. Slow and unsure of what to say. "It worries Jaehyun more than it should." The bite in her words will go ignored, you're having a relatively nice talk with her to let any animosity return.

"You don't remember him at all." Your head shakes as confirmation. "You don't even remember the projects you did with him." You shake your head again and it makes her want to hit it for the memories to return.

"I pray you learn to trust, have faith in both of us." She hugs you again. It's warm but empty. Mayhaps it's just you, unused to the affection and love of a sibling. Of a family member and if she meant trust in Jaehyun too, then you'll give it a chance for the warm feeling brewing in your heart.

"I'll do it… I'll be mom's stand-in." You relent. She smiles and cheers like there isn't a post burial get together downstairs. Like your mother isn't gone but everyone copes differently. You cope by not being able to cry and allowing everyone to walk all over you. 

On the way downstairs she rambles about what you can wear and the jewelry she had chosen. Nothing seems ideal nor your taste. It sounds redundant and weird in a sense that she's making you be so much like your mother.

Although, that's the whole point. Having your mother be at her wedding one way or another, no matter that your identity is being wiped. Like it would have been if your cousin hadn't opened her mouth about the wedding. You later found your mother had gotten that stinking infection from picking flowers with her. It's bizarre how a domino effect works.

It all muddles with the laughter of the guests, “Well to my sister! And to her lovely daughter, for juggling the stress of a wedding and grief to organize a beautiful burial for her mother.” The crowd turns to your sister as if they knew where she was immediately. Despite the streaks and puffiness she still looks ethereal and content with the recognition.

Right. Foolish of you to trust too easily.

She thanks them, hands to her heart and ignoring the side eye you give her. A look that begs her to correct them because truly she did jackshit for this funeral. This was so in character for her and you still fell. She'll cry and throw a tantrum until she gets what she wants while pretending like she did nothing for it.

She's your mother's daughter.

Unsure of when but the slight grin on your face unsettles her and it worsens when Jaehyun calls for the floor. He smiles and giggles, he's already so loved by the family.

"Thank you uncle, Carlo. Thank you as well my love for the suggestions but I do want to thank Y/n most of all for every single detail she gave into organizing this funeral." My love… so cold and unloving. It soothes you.

"For her delicacy in detail, to the meaning of the flowers, all the way down to her last outfit. Mrs. Y/l/n was a woman with a strong attitude who never took anything that did not cater to her. Therefore, knowing her, I'm sure she would love how today and the entire week was held in her honor. She would be proud."

Jaehyun's voice is so reassuring that it bothers you how much he believes it. It bothers you that everyone seems so surprised and taken aback. It bothers you that your sister seems slightly upset and weary. It bothers you that he thinks he did you a favor.

Yet it soothes you once more and your grin does not go overlooked. You're being recognized.

Guests leave shortly after. Jaehyun had made sure to kill their mood with mentions of you and for once you're openly thankful for his help despite knowing all he mentioned was thanks to him.

Mrs. Mimi and you had stayed to clean the house while your father had fallen asleep hours ago. Your sister made sure to give him his medication before she left. Despite the severity of this day's events, she was still going to celebrate her bachelorette party. Something some of your cousins and her friends threw on her behalf to rid of the sadness experienced. Of course, you don't receive an invitation.

It was just Mrs. Mimi, your father, you, and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun?

"You don't have a bachelor party or something?" You don't intend for it to come out irritated but Rek's wheezing seals the blow. "Ouch." Jaehyun laughs, attempting to pet the dog that growls at him to stay away. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows before huffing.

"I'd rather make sure you— you're all doing good." Mrs. Mimi halts her scrubbing, sighing to herself before returning to the final dishes. "We're fine." You answer, aiding the older woman.

"Why aren't you with your sister? I thought you had left with them." "Wasn't invited."

Jaehyun stops drying the dishes you rinse, slowly turning to look at you. Musing similarly to when your sister refused to bury your mother in her daily wear jewelry.

"Mrs. Mimi, we got it from here. You should rest for tomorrow." Jaehyun diverts, upset settled in his voice despite his sweetness. The older of the three chuckles, shaking her head, handing the soap lathered cup to you. It's crowded near the sink and fairly humid but none of you would rather be anywhere else.

"Baby, I wasn't invited." It's infinitely hilarious to her. The angered looks and disgust in your faces. She's amused while Jaehyun tries to process it. "What? I asked her and she said she made sure to drop off your invite." He huffs and scoffs like a steam whistle from disbelief.

"You'll be my plus one, in that case!" It's so childlike that it makes Mrs. Mimi continue her laughter, scrubbing the last remaining plates. She shakes her head, wiping her hands on the tea towel. "No, don't worry. This week made me reflect and I'm going to visit my mother…" She sighs, nodding to herself before looking at you both.

Jaehyun wants to say something but he is not one to get between someone and their family so he relents as you do. "Sleep well then." He pouts, hugging her goodbye. She thanks him, patting his cheek to then hug you as well. It lingers and it's comforting to the point that you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach.

Her gaze travels between you and Jaehyun and you both know there are words lingering in mind that she dares not utter. Ultimately she sighs, nodding again before patting both your cheeks, struggling to get Rek out of the house due to his resistance.

Dogs are perspective and they can smell the dangers of the world miles away. He knows nothing good will brew tonight. He knew nothing good would come from you returning. Yet he still loves you more than anyone besides Mrs. Mimi. Just like your father.

Mrs. Mimi leaves with a whaling Rek trailing behind her. His cries are cautionary and she knows it. Uttering silent: "There's so much one can do, Rek." here and there. There's so many things amiss but like usual, you'll ignore anything perturbing you.

It's awkward for the remainder of the clean up. Jaehyun and you share some words but not full sentences. His glances are lesser than earlier but you can still feel them on you when he's not besides you. They're far more penetrating than your mothers and when midnight rolls around and you're both done, the only way to thank him is with a cold glass of wine on your mother's white rug.

You stumble taking a seat before him. Resting against the feet of the couch allows your muscles to relax and scream at you for all the tension you ignored this past week. It's painful to move and your lower back aches as it did when Jaehyun touched it earlier.

"Mom never allowed me to be here in fear of dirtying this rug." You smile fondly, you remember that much. "Now you're drinking red wine on it." He humors you, "Now I'm drinking red wine on it." You repeat, clinking your glasses so hard some wine does splatter onto your hands and the rug.

A rush of freight floods you but remembering where your mother was makes you relax, sharing a silent laugh with Jaehyun who's body shakes along yours with every sip. This is the most you've given him and he won't take it for granted.

"Why do you love my mom so much, Jaehyun?" You ask, the moonlight coming through the sliding doors. That beautiful blue reflecting off the pool into the living room, making you forget that the rug is not blue but white.

He swivels his glass much like you had in the morning. "I told you she's like a second mother to me. She was very nurturing and inviting when we first started dating. Always made me feel like I belonged and it reminded me of my mom." He smiles fondly, "My mom lives too far and I'm not even sure if she'll be here for the wedding." He laughs, "I hope she’s not..."

Huh?...

"Why are you even getting married on Valentine's Day anyway? Isn't it corny?" You attempt to steer the conversation astray. If you think too much about your mother and his words, you may turn into her and wreak havoc on Jaehyun. He doesn't deserve it despite your (un)justly targeted rage.

"It's my birthday." He smiles fondly, his lips stained red. "We met on Valentine's Day." He laughs quietly; his neck must ache from resting against the coffee table. You yourself don't find any humor in the statement. "I guess it was meant for you and her to get married." A horrible despondency in your voice that you regret.

"I meant you and I, Y/n."

You look up at him, confused and somewhat appalled. How corny.

"You don't have to tell me you don't remember, I get it now." He laughs, "Year seven, had just moved here and we had that awful arts class. The one with the loony teacher that spoke about health while smoking cigarettes behind the gym."

You laugh, yet you don't remember.

"Our task was to make Valentine's Day cards for our desk mates. I told you it was my birthday too and you wrote: ‘Happy lover boy day. Love was meant to be in your life.’" There's a certain fondness in his voice that makes you believe it. The detail to his description sounds cliche, something you most definitely had in mind back then.

"Now I illustrate greeting cards for a living." Your laughter fuels Jaehyun's sooner than you thought, his body was next to yours now. His neck resting on the cushion of the couch. "I know. Your dad has a great collection of them. I do too..." Truly, Jaehyun confuses you. You won't dwell on that now, it's not worth it.

Whether it's only a second or an hour, neither of you tear each other's gaze away. His eyes intent on your own, examining every speck of color and the way your pupils dilate, as his do.

"Why don't you remember anything I tell you about?" He questions sincerely, no judgment in comparison to your sister. You shrug, "I don't know. I… don't remember anything from then or you." Jaehyun doesn't respond, staring at you for an answer he won't get. "And you? What do you remember of me?" 

He hesitates, sighing deeply. "You used to be much more jolly than you are now."

That is not what you expected.

"Why do you dislike your mom, Y/n?" He gets comfortable beside you. His glass knocking against your empty one. You can smell the sweet tones of wine in his breath, signaling how uncomfortably close he is.

"I… I don't know…" It's meek and raw, the child in you coming out. "I don't know why she hated me." His expression doesn't change, only do his fingers come to comb away your hair.

"Ever since I can remember she cared more for others and my sister than me. She treated my cousins like hers but me like a beggar." Your grip on the glass tightens, knocking it against Jaehyun's this time.

"One mistake and I was yelled at or she'd ignore me for weeks on end. Then I left for college when she didn't want me to and it became worse… The last time I saw her was for her and dad's anniversary two years ago and she—" The words get stuck in your throat, as if you're to cry.

"She woke me up in the middle of the night, on grandma's birthday — she had been dead for years now — to tell me she hated me… Never knew why… But, yesterday Mr. Nix confessed him and mom dated. That grandma hated him for making mom happy and it clicked. I guess, it's hereditary to hate your first born daughter… Grandma always complained about mom while doting on me."

Your brain attempts to piece it all together but your heart doesn't want to. While you've scratched the surface you don't want to delve into the implication of what it means for your future (if any) or what it means for that inner child of yours.

You just don't want to think anymore.

'Please… Please, Jaehyun, help me not think anymore.'

"You reckon?" He questions, pinky caressing your knuckles. "When I proposed to your sister, she approached me right after. She looked at me, hugged me, and looked at me again with that sunken look she has when she thinks too deep. "Are you sure?" She asked seriously, almost confused. I told her I was, that I loved her with my entire heart and she laughed, shaking her head. She said she was a nice girl but hollow at heart."

Odiously, you know what she meant. "I reaffirmed I loved her, I did… We were looking at family pictures and she kept looking over yours. She said you hated her so much that you left, it was admirable in her eyes." He sighs, more of his fingers on your skin and like a fool you let him.

"She knew you’d always be there but not your sister. You give all to one and they become hollow, shallow, and entitled. You don't give anything to the other and they'll always be there... yearning. They don't expect anything but would love something.”

"That sounds horrible." "It is." "And unfortunately she always knew what I wanted." "I fear so."

You relent, looking directly at him again. "I don't hate her. I just… dislike my mother." The confession is not shocking, it's a given known fact but it's relieving to speak out loud.

"And… I fear she saw through me all those months ago. I was not sure nor in love with your sister."

His confession is shocking. Not because you don't believe him but it was far too late for this statement. "It's fucked, I know. But after this week, I can't marry into this family."

It's too late. It's too late.

"They've indoctrinated you by now." Is the best you can muster. It's not any better than the mantra in your brain.

"The countless meals without you and your father. The conversations: soulless and mean spirited, shallow, egotistical… Everyone’s worry over the wedding rather than their grief – if any. How many people I stopped from trying to pick the locks today... Y/n, only you and your dad are worth it.” He breaths out, an ache in his voice that feels familiar. As if he had been picking at your brain to consume it himself but it's only intoxicating him.

He's so close, far more close than earlier and the wine is stronger. A part of you wants to be sane and stop this madness. Righteous in the sense to not make matters worse but his mewls when you pull at his hair to get him off drive you closer. "Don't do this to me…" You plead with no real intent or sorrow.

“Maybe you were right about the universe being cruel because it was you I was meant to see first. It was you and your mom knew all along.” He whines against your lips, tongue wetting his but you can taste the sweetness of him and that wine. That damn wine.

Your fingers clasp around his hair harder, eliciting more of those pretty sounds he makes and it takes everything in your power to not cry from how beautiful he sounds and looks. Red and needy all for you. "It was you. It has always been you." He confesses, bringing his lips against yours and it's not your will nor your bodies to push him off. Reciprocating that indulgence you've been craving.

His mouth is fairly warm, sweet and dangerous as the wine. The kiss is anything but clean. Mostly tongue and some teeth.

The semi-full glasses of wine are long forgotten, staining the rug as proof of your immorality. Jaehyun doesn't seem to remember them, you on the other hand, don't care. It's not like your mother can scold you anymore.

His hands feel significantly scalding under your dress, rugged fingers working at the clasps to remove it like a robe. Nothing is soft or tender, it's all rushed and hungry. Animalistic almost, save for the soft touches he gives you when a sliver of skin reaches him.

"You're no better than them." You kiss him, his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his lap. He's painfully hard that any move of yours makes him writhe, sinking his teeth onto your lower lip. It's fine, you deserve it and you like it. You'll take what he gives…

Jaehyun nods, tongue seeking yours. He seems to savor the sweet fruity notes of the wine as well. "I know." He hums against your lips, "I'm not denying that." A moan leaves his mouth, swallowed by you. Your hands working on his belt.

"What will you do tomorrow? What will you do standing before God and Christ, promising eternal love and faithfulness? Does that not mean anything to you? Won't shame burn your feet and eat your soul away as you walk though that arch?"

It's rhetorical, he still answers. "It won't." He kisses your jaw. "It will." Tongue laps at your neck where your sister — his fiancee — had cried earlier. "I haven't decided if I want faith to run my future." The indifference in his voice makes you laugh, one that is drowned when he nips at your skin.

Jaehyun isn't particularly soft, his hands knead at your skin and grasp harshly when on your ass. The fabric that made the dress is long tossed to the side and his shirt had been off for seconds now. Ripped from the neck, the restriction bothering him.

It's not a struggle for him to remove your bra, tossing that to the pile of clothes as well. It's his mouth that shows you he can be delicate if he wants to. The way in which his lips wrap around your swollen tit feel like healing pads. Tongue softly lapping at the aching nipples.

You can hear and feel his soft moans around each, rotating after nearly a minute of attention. His tongue is what you love most at the moment. So velvety, warm, and moist. Plush and gentle with every lick to soothe the ache his teeth cause when he wants to be funny and nip at them.

"Don't be a dick." You scold, pulling at his hair like that doesn't turn him on furthermore. He laughs against your chest, the rumble felt so deep against your sternum. "Sorry," He pouts like nothing before kissing a path up your neck to feel your lips against his again.

He wants to speak with no avail, rather you swallow any breath he takes in an attempt to utter a word. Ravishing his lips to distract him from how near you are to taking him out of his trousers. That is until he takes your hands into his, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning further into you. Hard on pressing against the thin cotton of your panties.

"You're being a tease." You joke, mimicking the pout he gave you earlier. He grins, apologizing insincerely once again while pressing into you. The harsh fabric of his trousers was stimulating.

He attempts to reward you by massaging circles on your clit over the cotton of your panties but you swat his hand away, taking his face into your hands for another hungry kiss. He stifles his chuckle, letting you explore his mouth with your tongue. As a reward, he connects his with yours, allowing both muscles to enjoy the ecstasy.

Your hips take his distraction as an opportunity to swivel against him. Eliciting those pretty sounds you love to consume and forcing you to go faster, a wet spot already seeping into any remaining fabric. Jaehyun doesn't take lightly to this, pushing your panties away to let his fingers roam. It's stimulating and overly enjoyable.

How easy the digits slip in, stretching you deliciously to then piston at a set speed that has you hunching over, begging to feel his mouth on yours again. Jaehyun enjoys it, a cheeky grin on his face when your eyes meet his and as a reward, he buries his fingers deeper, curling and thrusting fast enough to make you wail from pleasure you haven't allowed yourself in god knows how long.

It's irritating to be the only one like this. Triumphantly, you finally manage to sneak him out of his trousers, the fabric had been so restraining that he lets out a guttural moan when freed. Throwing his head back onto the couch and wincing with every squeeze and jerk of your soft hand on his sensitive cock.

It's your turn to taunt him. Sneering and laughing quietly when he writhes and cries about how good your hand feels, how he'd love to feel your mouth over it or have you impaled on him. Jaehyun is far weaker than he lets out – nothing new to you.

Was it not for your own desperation and need for release, you'd elongate the sadism. Let him cry for longer about how your hand is not enough despite the pool of pre-come already soiling your hand and his cock.

There's no need for lube, not when his fingers slip out of you and the sea of fluids stain his trousers before pushing them fully off. His pre-come doesn't fall short of a stimulant, so much for such a simple tact. There's nothing grand about this transaction but your bodies know what they want and each other has been written in the stars.

"I don't have a condom…" He pants, a faux attempt at letting morality stop you both. "I'm clean. Abstaining, actually…" You confess, it had not been long since you last had gone to the gyno anyway. Jaehyun's fingers are soft against your lips, his chest slowing down as he hears the meekness in your voice.

"We never have sex without protection and… the last time was months ago." The vulnerability in his voice makes you trust him. Nodding as a response before kissing him again, guiding him for penetration.

He toys with you for seconds, letting his tip graze your folds and slap your clit playfully. Reveling in the hisses you let out. He's so greedy to the point that this isn't enough.

Sheathing himself within you to acquire the pleasure he desires most. It had been so long since you felt this way. The feeling of fullness and completeness. Jaehyun does not fall short with the whines, rather he buries them in your hair, shaking underneath you.

"You feel so good…" He mentions, leaving open mouth kisses along your shoulder while attempting to thrust. His hands reach behind you for stability while you shift in his lap to get comfortable. When he finds a pace you both can work with, Jaehyun throws a thin piece of fabric over you both.

It dawns upon you much later when the tulle feels stuffy and the lacing scratchy that it's your sister's veil. You know it should bother you more, that you should question why it's still here and not with her when the wedding is tomorrow but you don't find it in yourself to care. Not when he's looking at you with an adoration you've never seen and a smile aimed at you and only you.

"You look beautiful." He whispers against your lips, tongue prodding to enter your mouth in one of many kisses he gives you. It's enough to evacuate your head of all these nuisances, focusing on the feel of his cock fucking into you at a steady pace, hips gyrating to allow stimulation to your clit from his pelvic bone.

Whether it's the lack of experience, allowing your body to feel the delicacy of immorality, or he's simply that good, the words cascade from your lips like a mantra. "I'm so close… Fuck, so very closer." You whine against his lips, eyes screwing shut like you're about to cry while holding onto his own shoulders for support.

He smiles, easily wiped away when your hips pick up the pace. Moving up and down his shaft, gyrating as well to follow his lead. From feeling delicious, now he feels like he could come if you did this once more. "I need to feel you coming around me… Y/n, do that for me, please." Jaehyun curses incoherently, his hands holding onto your waist, kneading at the skin but his hands can't stay steady. Rummaging upwards to take your tits into them.

They're softer than earlier. Rubbing circular motions and squeezing when they feel too hot under his touch. Scalding. Thankfully his hips don't fall short in pace. It quickens, his thighs harden under you and it feels like he could give out any second. The sounds he makes surely say so.

"I can feel you ready to explode, Jaehyun." You taunt, seeking his lips and pulling away when he wants to give what you've asked for. His whines turn petulant by the third time. Hand coming off your tit to take a hold of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. The warmth is gone and your nipple perks from the cold and his determination.

"Let me explode… please…" Jaehyun wanted to be more straightforward yet it came out like begging. It's not like you mind, not when you feel yourself three thrusts away from finishing. He drags it on when you don't give him what you want. Thrusting slowly upwards to bury himself completely and pull away to leave the gaping to turn cold before he's back to bottoming out.

He swats your hand away when he feels your nimble fingers attempt to rub at your clit, hissing disapprovingly. "Is my cock not enough?" He scolds, frowning when you shake your head, teasing. His thrusts turn harsher by then, forcing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

"You're too easy to tease." You jest, taking his hands to perch upon your breasts again. "Don't be mean." He winces, bucking upwards at a faster pace. His tongue not missing a single crevice of your neck before nipping the skin. His own form of protest to your mocking.

You giggle at his words, pressing to get his lips near yours. "Make me come, then. Finish me off for good…" Hushedly and deeper, looking directly into his eyes while processing the words. Jaehyun looks at you with every thrust. They're harder by the point you're done speaking and his eyes never peel from yours.

This is far more intimate than any of you had expected or wanted. The feeling of his cock fitting snugly within you is felt ten times more and the friction feels like your nerves are going to burst if he keeps going.

It causes your legs to spasm, arms flailing and weak around him. Every sense overstimulated when you feel him at the hilt, pressing harshly one thrust at a time.

"Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun…"

You cry out, pleasure flooding your entire body that it manifests itself into tears. Louder and harder when you feel him release his warm fluid within your walls. It's a scorching feeling, deliciously overstimulated. Your body is weak and frail against his own, every neuron tingling that it stresses and overwhelms you beyond belief.

But you're crying. You're crying and crying, finally after a week of not being able to let it all out. It's a relief and you can fully understand why your sister is less sad about the reality of your lives.

"Y/n… Y/n! Y/n, are you alright?"

The sincere worry in Jaehyun's voice does not fall short to make you weep even more. You muster a nod, holding his face in your hands while pushing off your sister's veil. It's soiled in sweat, tears, and the smell of sex but it doesn't matter to you right now.

"Are you alright?" He asks again, this time peppering kisses all over your face, holding your body against his for comfort. It's sticky and messy, the sweat reminding you that no matter it being winter, humidity and physical activities don't mix well.

And while your crying doesn't seize, you nod, kissing him instead. "Happy lover boy day. Love was meant to be in your life." You mutter against his lips, your salty tears present with every kiss. Jaehyun sighs, rubbing soothingly against your exposed back before holding you flush against him.

"Than—" and before he can thank you, those same portraits you've been chipping paint from remind you of where you are and who the house belongs to.

It's a horrible crash, the form in which your mother's largest portrait slides down the stairs. Banging against the banisters and breaking the frame into pieces. Wood chips ripping the canvas into large chunks. The last tumble allows it to sway mere feet away from you, glaring for the disgrace you've just committed.

Against your parents, against this sacred home, against the sanctity of a veil, and against your sister. Even in death, your mother's watchful eyes will remain to belittle and judge you.

"Thank you." Jaehyun finishes off, turning your gaze to him and taking your lips into a thankful kiss. Your mother won’t continue to haunt you.

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When you had a last minute emergency at your apartment, Wooyoung had allowed you to come stay over at him and San’s place.

It was always an unspoken courtesy that you could stay in one of their rooms if ever needed when one of them was away for an evening, allowing you privacy and comfort.

So when you settled in for the night in San’s room, Wooyoung had assured you that San was away for the next week and you didn’t think twice about stripping down to your panties and a tank top to sleep due to the heat.

What you didn’t expect was that San’s work trip had been cut short.

It’s after 2am when the door to the apartment is unlocked and San makes his way inside, not bothering to turn on the lights.

He kicks off his shoes and yawns as he plods over to his room.

He hesitates a moment at the closed door, remembering that he’d left it open.

Figuring Wooyoung must have closed it for some reason, he merely shrugs and pushes it open, dumping his bag to the side before tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it into the hamper, his pants joining shortly after.  

The moonlight illuminates the room as he rubs his eyes and walks to the bed, hoisting the covers up before he freezes in shock.

The very last thing he’s expecting in his bed is you; half naked, your back to him, your cute little ass cheeks peeking out at him.

“What the-” He mutters before he can stop himself and you let out a little noise as you adjust in your sleep.  

He bites his lip as his gaze rakes over your unconscious form, how your thigh moves up and gives him a peek of your clothed crotch, your bare arm clinging to his pillow, your face calm and serene in your slumber.

He groans as his cock stirs, chastising himself for getting aroused at your sleeping form.  

“Fuck…” He mumbles, contemplating what to do.

Your friendship is close enough that he is fully aware that you wouldn’t be upset if he slept next to you; no, that’s not the issue at all.

San is fully aware that slipping in next to you isn’t the only thing he wants to do right now.

He momentarily thinks about grabbing a pillow and camping out on the couch for the night, but as he reaches to do so, you murmur something unintelligible in your sleep and turn slightly towards him.

A hiss leaves his lips as he notices the outline of your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top and he can’t stop himself from changing course and slipping under the covers next to you.

Internally cursing at himself, he ignores the protests he’s making against what he’s about to do.

As he scoots closer to you, he inhales and groans at the unique scent of shampoo and vanilla that is you.

He tugs the covers down gently, his breath hitching as he takes in the curve of your spine and the way your tank top clings to your tits, making his hands itch to touch you.

Choi San, don’t you do this…he thinks yet his hand betrays him, reaching out to brush your hair back from your neck as he slips closer to you.

He’s always been attracted to you, and this is the best and worst temptation of his life, laid out before him.

His fingers trace the line of your neck down to your shoulder, concentrating on your face as he tests if it’s going to wake you.

When you don’t even stir from the simple touch, he slowly places his hand on your waist, pausing and waiting.

The heat from your body beckons him, and his dick tents his boxers, a wet stain already forming from his leaking tip.

“Fuck.” He whispers, sliding his hand down the curve of your waist up your hip, savoring every inch of skin before he rests his palm on your ass cheek.  

“Mmm..” You murmur in your sleep, causing him to freeze as you adjust, scooting back a few inches towards him.  

He lets out a choked moan as your ass pushes firmly into his hand, his rigid length bumping into your tailbone.

It takes everything in him to not rut against you, aware that any sudden jostling might wake you and he can’t have that right now.  

Right now, he needs to explore you, touch your bare skin, inhale your fragrance.

He knows the chances of you waking and freaking out are high, yet he can’t seem to stop himself from pushing the boundaries of what is right and wrong.

Finally, you stop stirring and his hand slips down the back of your thigh, gently pushing your top leg forward and exposing your clothed cunt.

He pushes the blankets down further and leans up, his eyes locking onto the thin fabric keeping him from your naked pussy. 

Pulling his lower lip in and chewing it, he slips his fingers against your panties, holding back a whine as he feels your damp folds through the material.  

His gaze flicks up to your face, checking to make sure you’re still unconscious before he slips his finger along the seam of your panties, trying to control his breathing as he pulls the crotch aside to expose your lower lips.  

His breath hitches as the movement causes you to shift, having to pause yet again before you settle.

He keeps checking your face as he tugs your panties aside far enough to allow him to skim his fingers along your folds, parting them so he can stare at your tight little hole as he uses his fingertips to search for your clit.

The pads of his fingers graze your hidden bundle of nerves and your sleepy little breathy moan lets him know he’s found it.  

He swallows heavily as he keeps his gaze on your face, watching for any sign of consciousness as he slowly starts rubbing in circles, the heat and moisture from your cunt urging him to scoot close enough to rub his erection against your lower back.

Your lips part as he presses against your bud more firmly, encouraging him on as he grinds against you.  

He struggles to keep his moans quiet as his fingers slip down to tease at your tight little entrance, the soft noises coming from you making him start to lose what little control he has.  

He moves his hand to push his boxers down, freeing his rigid length and positioning it between your thighs, pushing forward to rub the head of his cock through your folds.

“Shhh...” He whispers as you stir, his hand sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top, teasing at your nipple as it tightens in his fingertips.

The room is quiet outside of his ragged breathing and the rhythmic damp noises as he rubs himself against your pussy.  

He palms your tit, then squeezes it, moving from one to the other before finally pushing your top up to expose your naked breasts.  

“Fuck…ah fuck…” He whispers, watching your face as he closes the distance between you, his bare chest pressing against your back even as his mind protests that what he’s doing is so wrong.

You let out a soft moan when he cups your naked breast, using his thumb and forefinger to tug your tightened nipple as he watches your face for any sign of rousing.  

He presses his lips to your shoulder as he rolls his hips, each agonizing pass of his cock through your folds encouraging his depraved motions as you soak his length with your arousal.

Even as you shift and let out soft noises every time he rubs himself against your clit, he chastises himself for what he’s doing. Yet he’s so far gone with lust that even as he pauses to check your state, he knows he’s fucked.

You shift against him and the head of his cock catches on your entrance, causing him to hiss out a curse, his hand leaving your nipple to grab your hip and look down between you.

The sight of your glistening cunt is far too much for him to handle and he briefly looks at the outline of your face in the dim light before he bites his lip, grabbing his cock to guide himself into you.

His eyes close in pure bliss as he slowly pushes forward, your quiet sleepy moan mixing with his groans as he grabs your ass and bottoms out inside of you.

His hand flexes on your ass, then slides up the back of your thigh, lifting it so he can watch as he draws back, then plunges back into you. 

He grunts with each thrust, not concerning himself anymore with whether he’s waking you, too lost in chasing his own pleasure at this point to stop.

It’s only when your soft voice breaks his concentration that he looks up and notices your lashes fluttering, your hands grabbing at the pillow and sheets as your face subconsciously registers what he’s doing to you.

Guilt momentarily wars with lust as he leans forward to press his face into your neck, his arm slipping around your waist to hold you as he begins propelling his hips faster and harder.

“Sorry…shhh…it’s okay…shhh…fuck, baby…” He whispers against your skin between soft whimpers and grunts.

“...San?” Your confused whisper melded with your gasps as he fucks you only makes him more frantic and he drops his hand between your legs to find your clit, pinching and circling.

He draws back to look at your face, your half lidded eyes on him as he nods, his cheeks heating as you silently question what he’s doing.  

“I’m sorry…I know…I shouldn’t…I-fuck! You…you looked too sexy…” He bites out, his hips starting to snap forward harder, your body shaking with each thrust.

“San-!” You cry out, finally fully aware of what’s happening and his fingers leave your clit to grab your thigh and pull it back over his, slipping his other arm under you to grab your breast and hold you in place.

He starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as his hand returns to your clit, feeling your pussy start to clench as he moans out your name.

“Baby…fuck I’m close-” He growls out, nipping at your neck as you start pushing back against him.  

“Nngnngg….San…don’t cum-in me-!” You manage before your mouth opens in an ‘o’ and you clench tightly around him, your climax causing him to buck wildly and grit his teeth, barely holding back as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“Ah-ah fuck-I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!” He cries out, grabbing your ass and pulling out, pushing his cock between your ass cheeks as he erupts all over your lower back as he continues to rut against you.

Thick ropes of cum spurt all over your back, the sticky mess soaking your back and ass cheeks as his hips jerk erratically, his eyes locked onto the lewd sight before he finally looks up and meets your gaze.

You look over your shoulder up at him and he swallows heavily, his cheeks darkening with a blush.

“Um…” He mutters sheepishly, giving you a weak smile before reaching up to rub the back of his neck in shame, his muscles flexing as he does so.

“Choi San…” You can’t help but eye his arm, then his naked chest appreciatively.  

He winces, waiting to be yelled at but you only sigh, reaching back to touch the mess on your lower back.  

“I’m…I’m sorry-” He starts, but his words turn into a strangled squeak as you bring your fingers to your lips to taste his cum.

“You could have at least woken me up, San. Jesus-what a mess-” 

Before you can finish, his mouth is on yours, not caring about the mess as he rolls you onto your back and pinning you down.

“You’re awake now-” He whispers against your lips.

Well, you can’t argue with that.