Betrayal [trope Mingi]

betrayal [trope — mingi]

inspired by: shut up flower boy band — kdrama + this post

pair: rockstar!mingi/afab!reader

word count: 4.5k

content: angst, smut, heartbreak, mingi looks like he could kill you but is the sweetest cinnamon roll, (can you believe mingi is the betrayer gasp), reference to past drug use, drinking, smoking, violence, mingi gets beat up, (seonghwa's kind of a dick... and lowkey like a disney villain whoops), safe sex, car sex, bedroom sex, hand kink, tattoo kink, consensual sex

author's note: i actually had a completely different idea in mind, but then @byuntrash101 posted this and i immediately had a much better idea for the series so thank you for the inspiration love 💕 also someone for the love of god tell me how to stop turning drabbles into novellas thx

trope masterlist | part one | part two

Mingi flung his head back and sighed loudly in the dressing room as he stood before the vanity. He felt your presence behind him and immediately spun around, his shaggy hair covering the sadness in his eyes. You took a hesitant step towards him before he lashed out.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi spat out.

You winced. Sure, Mingi looked like he could kill someone, but in the time you knew him, he was the sweetest fucking cinnamon roll.

“I c-came to support you and the boys,” you murmured— it was the truth. You just wanted to support the band you had come to love, but honestly, you also wanted to see Mingi because you missed him. You missed him so fucking much.

“I told you to never let me see you again, Y/N. What is so fucking hard to understand about that?” Mingi huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up further.

“But why?” your voice wavered, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Tears actually did spill out of your eyes when you cried, “Why are you doing this? Can you tell me what I did wrong? Please? You break up with me over a phone call and tell me you want nothing to do with me, but you never said why!”

Mingi flinched. He hated seeing you cry, and he desperately wanted to just hug you and dry your tears, but he couldn’t. He had to stay away from you, and he couldn’t figure out a way to keep you away without just telling you to stay away. He wasn’t one to cheat or to move on so easily— hell, he had been performing for years, and it took him years to find someone like you, someone who could make everything go away, someone he could actually fall in love with— so he couldn’t bring himself to lie to you. He just needed you to trust him and to just stay away.

“Just get out of my face. Don’t ever come near me again,” Mingi bit out.

He didn’t even brush past you on his way out. He completely avoided you. You fell to your knees and cried as the curtains to the room swished upon his departure.

Before he could even get two steps away from the dressing room, Mingi ran into the one person he did not want to run into.

“Dude, I did what you fucking asked, okay?” he held his hands up and took a step away from him. “I didn’t do shit.”

“I know. I just came to collect,” he responded. “We’ll be out of your hair.”

Mingi nodded and quickly got away before the conversation could persist. He left the venue and slammed the door on his way out. He wanted to just run away into the night, but it was pouring. Of course it was raining. He settled for leaning against the side of the establishment and fishing his carton of cigarettes and his favorite lighter out of his back pocket. He lit one up and took a deep drag before the pain in his heart started to subside.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Mingi heard the bassist’s voice behind him.

“Not now, Yeosang,” Mingi murmured.

“No, dude. Spit it out. One day, Y/N was the love of your life, and the next you’re screaming at her to leave you alone? Nothing’s adding up,” Yeosang pushed further.

“Yeah, we’ll only be able to help you if you tell us what’s going on,” the keyboardist, Yunho, added.

Mingi found himself boxed in by the members of his band and let out his twentieth deep sigh of the day. “Fine,” Mingi mumbled as he took another drag from his cigarette. “But after I tell you guys, I don’t want to hear another word of it. I don’t want to hear her name ever again, got it?”

The men nodded, allowing Mingi to finally reveal what had happened between the two of you.

“Hey, who was that preppy chick in the front row?” the red-headed drummer asked his fellow bandmates.

“Beats me, dude,” Yunho shrugged. “She definitely doesn’t belong here, though.”

“Yeah, she’s like super preppy and shit,” the guitarist giggled.

“Isn’t that your type though, Wooyoung?” the drummer pointed out.

“…Shut up, San,” Wooyoung grumbled.

“It is weird, though. I’ve seen her so many times at our concerts. Is she one of our groupies?” Yeosang asked.

“Are groupies even a thing anymore?” Mingi furrowed his eyebrows.

“She’s definitely not a drug dealer from the looks of her,” San mused out loud.

“Okay, that was one time, and she seemed excited to be considered a groupie. I wasn’t talking to her because she sold— and I’m not about that shit! I haven’t done any more since I met you guys!”

“Mingi! Chill, that’s not what he was talking about!” Yunho grabbed Mingi’s shoulder to calm him down before he could throw a tantrum. “Besides, you almost went to jail. We know you don’t do drugs, so you don’t gotta get all defensive on us.”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Mingi reclaimed his shoulder and adjusted his sweater before plopping to the ground.

“Anyway, that preppy girl— how many shows has she been at now?”

“Eight,” Yeosang answered immediately, only for four pairs of eyes to shoot directly to him and widen. “Not that I’ve been counting! …I’m just observant guys.”

“”Observant”,” Wooyoung mocked.

Before Yeosang could get up to slap the giggling guitarist silly, there was a knock on the dressing room door. Mingi got up and answered the door to see one of the stage managers standing there, a look of irritation on their face.

“Yes?”

“I thought we said you weren’t allowed to give anyone backstage access,” the stage manager said with disgust.

“We didn’t though?”

“Uh, actually…” San interjected and slowly raised his hand, the other four bandmates immediately groaning and yelling at the boy.

“Come on, man— We just talked about this!”

“You seriously suck.”

“That email was literally sent for you, San!”

“Sorry, sorry! I’ll handle it!” San held his hands up and scurried out of the room.

“Someone go with him to make sure he isn’t going to do stupid shit,” Yunho sighed while rolling his eyes.

“On it,” Mingi grumbled.

Leaving the other three to apologize profusely to the stage manager, Mingi left in pursuit of San. He got into the lobby of the venue and saw San with his arm already around the waist of the girl he had invited back to the dressing room— that bastard. Mingi made a mad dash for them, only to turn the corner and nearly crash into you, the preppy girl that looked like she didn’t belong at a rock concert, the preppy girl that Wooyoung (and also maybe Yeosang) had a tiny crush on. Well, he nearly crashed into you, but that didn’t stop you from tripping over your own two feet and falling back on your butt.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Mingi apologized as he held out a hand to help you up.

“Can you—” you were about to tell the tall figure off, only to see his face and recognize him as the lead vocalist of your current favorite band: IT’S YOU(TH). “— sign my bra?”

You immediately clapped your hands over your mouth, your face burning red from sheer embarrassment. Mingi couldn’t help but laugh— so many girls had asked him to sign their bras in the past, but no one was ever shy about it, so your reaction to the words flying out of your mouth was honestly hysterical.

“I mean, I can if you want,” Mingi replied, a chuckle still lingering in his voice.

“R-really?” you squeaked.

One signed bra, eleven concerts, sixteen dates, and eighty-eight days later, Mingi was absolutely in love with you. Of course, he would never admit it first, but everyone in IT’S YOU(TH)— and honestly the whole damn world— could tell that the lead vocalist and guitarist of the young up-and-coming rock band was head-in-the-clouds, rose-tinted-glasses, cupid-shot-an-arrow-through-his-soul in love.

“Okay, Miss Astronomer, what am I looking at?” Mingi whispered to you, his lips dangerously near your ear.

IT’S YOU(TH) just finished their set for the night, and Mingi had promised you that he would be right by your side as soon as the concert ended. The two of you had driven way out of the city to the local rural area and laid in the wheat fields while staring up at the night sky. You had promised Mingi a night under the stars when he found out you spent four years of further education to study astronomy and physics, and you were finally delivering on that promise.

“So, that right there?” you whispered back as you started your astronomy lesson. “That’s you.”

“What?”

“That’s the Leo constellation,” you giggled— Mingi wasn’t really one for astrology.

“Oh, I get it,” Mingi responded with a half-hearted laugh, then genuinely asked, “But where is it?”

“Right there,” you responded as you traced the sky.

“Where?”

“Here,” you reached for Mingi’s hand and held it so that his pointer finger would be out. You then brought his hand to the sky and traced it for him with his hand. “Right… There…”

Mingi shifted ever so slightly closer to you the second you held his hand, and you felt his breath hit your neck as he rubbed his nose against your ear. You stifled a little moan mixed with a giggle and brought his hand down, his fingers lacing with yours as he did so.

“Can I… Tell you about my favorite star?” you asked him as you turned your head to face his.

“Tell me.”

You completely turned your body and scooted closer to him, his own body turning so he could face you properly. He let go of your hand so he could move his arm under your head to rest, and you snuggled into his soft chest. You placed your hand lightly on his chest and whispered, “This one. You’re my favorite star.”

“God, princess, you’re so cheesy,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but he had the biggest grin on his face.

“You’re also the brightest star, the prettiest star, the sexiest star,” you continued.

“I’m sexy, you say,” Mingi’s baritone voice dropped further, sending tingles of excitement down your spine.

“Of course you’re sexy. Your messy, dark hair, your smokey eyeshadow, your dark eyeliner,” you started listing, your fingers running through his hair then tiptoeing down his face. “Your beautifully angled nose, your… Soft… Lips…”

Your eyes lingered on his lips— eighty-eight days, and he had yet to kiss you. Well, he had kissed you, but he gave you those fleeting kisses, the kisses so quick that if you blinked, you’d miss them. Or, he’d kiss you “properly”, but those were usually on your forehead or cheek or shoulder— basically everywhere but your lips.

So, when he held your chin with a soft yet somehow still firm grip and tilted your chin up, your entire body flushed with warmth, with anticipation. Then, when his lips pressed against yours, you felt like you were soaring. You always imagined his lips were going to be soft since you spent so much of your time staring at them when he was on stage singing his heart out, and they were so much softer than you could imagine.

One kiss, then he leaned back, his eyes slightly darting back and forth as he observed your facial expression. Your rosy cheeks and small smile, your eyes turning into half crescents and sparkling brilliantly— God, Mingi loved all of it. So he kissed you again, a little more drive and passion behind the second one, and the intensity of his kisses only increased the more he kissed you.

You clung to him as his hand cupped your face, his long fingers brushing the nape of your neck and making you even more flustered. Your breaths and sighs mixed with his as your gentle string of kisses got heavier and hotter.

“What else?” Mingi asked in between kisses breathlessly. “What else do you find sexy?”

“Your neck tattoos.” Kiss. “Your hand tattoos.” Kiss. “Your nails.” Kiss. “Your rings.” Kiss. “Your style.” Kiss. “Your voice.” Kiss. “You.”

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, princess,” Mingi groaned, sending shivers down your spine.

Mingi forcefully disconnected himself from you, making you whimper and nearly whine. He stood up quickly, and before you could even begin to pick yourself up, he scooped you off the ground and carried you to his car. Unlocking it, he laid you down in the back seat and got in with you, his lips mashing into yours the second the car door closed.

His body rolled into yours as his hands roamed your body, your own restless hands tugging at his clothes, begging him to take them off. The sounds of your feverish lip locks with Mingi overpowered the rustling of your clothes and the clinks of his belt as they hit the ground one by one, leaving you completely naked and Mingi in just his underwear. You didn’t know when he managed to, but Mingi grabbed the condom he had stashed in his wallet and tucked it into the waistband of his underwear.

You wanted to ask why he was waiting to, for lack of better words, give it to you, but all of the thoughts and questions in your head disappeared in a heartbeat when Mingi traced two light fingers along your folds. A sigh of pleasure rippled out of your lungs when you felt his fingers slide through your slick and curl within you, the tips of his fingers digging softly into your walls. You could feel his rings press against your folds— they had yet to enter you. But, when he pulled his fingers out then shoved them right back in, he went further, his rings pushing past and into your cunt.

“Oh shit! Mingi!” you moaned loudly as he fingered you consistently and roughly. “Fuck, it feels so good!”

“Just keep moaning prettily like that for me, princess,” Mingi rasped as he added a third finger to the mix, his other hand beginning to massage your breast.

Your nails left red marks on his shoulders as you clung to him, your fingers and toes curling with every stroke. You bit your lower lip every so often so keep your moans to a minimum, but all hope was lost when his thumb started circling your clit, one circle for every stroke, and it definitely didn’t help when he started spreading his fingers inside you and pinched and tugged your nipple. You raked your fingers through Mingi’s hair and pulled him closer to you as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your loud moan sounding through the car.

“Princess, did you cum?” Mingi asked, although he didn’t need to know because he could feel your walls convulsing around his fingers.

You let out a little noise and nodded weakly, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Mingi caressed your face and wiped the tears away quickly before kissing you softly.

“Mingi,” you whimpered in between kisses. “I want you in me.”

You thought was going to laugh at the desperation in your voice, but he did anything but. He sat up and stroked your thigh gently as he said, “I’m going to need you to relax, okay?”

Mingi shed his boxers to reveal his massive cock. He just told you to relax, yet you couldn’t help but tense up when you saw what he was working with because he was fucking huge. It only made you even more fearful when you saw the letters XXL on his condom packet.

“Princess, just relax, okay?” Mingi instructed again softly.

He leaned down again and distracted you with his soft lips. His large hands went under your thighs and pushed your legs up, the length of his cock rubbing against your clit before pushing in slowly. You did your best to focus on kissing Mingi and tighten your hold on him to get yourself to loosen up to the best of your ability, but that didn’t stop you from feeling his like cock was going to tear you a new one.

Mingi kept his lips on yours as he moved slowly and calmly, his dick not completely leaving your body nor going all the way inside. He was just warming you up, but you felt like you were about to combust into flames with the way he was making you feel. You moaned and cried into his kisses while he grunted, his own restraint starting to weaken— he didn’t want to hurt you, at least not the first time the two of you had sex together.

The car bounced and shook when Mingi’s last string of self-control snapped. His cock filled you up and went so far deep inside you that you thought he was going to bruise your cervix. The sound of your sloppy kisses and heavy breaths and the raunchy squelches of his cock moving in and out of your soaking cunt harmonized, the sounds nearly escaping the confines of the car. What did escape, though, was your crying moan when Mingi rubbed against your G-spot and hit your cervix at the same time. The two of you came together, Mingi’s low groan ringing in your ears.

You were practically knocked out when Mingi pulled out of you, your weak and trembling hands struggling to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead. Mingi watched with slight amusement as you slowly started to regain your sanity.

“You look so pretty right now, princess,” Mingi said softly, nearly cooing. “I just want to see you disheveled like this under me all the time.”

“Tell me when and where, and I’m there, rockstar.”

After 100 days of being together, the problem started to arise.

“Hey, pretty princess,” Mingi greeted you as he walked into the coffee shop for your coffee date.

“Hey there, rockstar,” you greeted right back.

Mingi leaned down and kissed your lips quickly before taking the seat in front of you. He reached for your hands and held them, your hands fitting perfectly in his.

“Did you order yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, for both of us.”

Right on cue, one of the baristas announced your drinks were ready. Mingi got up and quickly returned with the drinks in hand. He set both the drinks down, your eager hands immediately picking up your iced one.

You only got to take one sip of your drink when your phone started ringing. You looked at the caller id and immediately declined the call before setting your phone face down on the table, Mingi warily watching all of your actions.

“Who was that?”

“Spam,” you replied with a frown— you hated lying to him, but to be fair, the caller was spamming you, and you had no intention of ever picking up the calls.

“Ugh, hate that,” Mingi grimaced.

“Tell me about it.”

The phone calls persisted. Every time the two of you went on a date or hung out or did anything together, you would get the “spam” calls. Mingi didn’t think much of it at first because spam calls usually were very annoying, but he started to worry when you phone would ring two, three, even four times in a row no matter how many times you declined the call.

“Hnngh— Harder! Fuck— Faster!” you shrilled as Mingi fucked you from behind. “Ugh, Mingi, so good!”

Your face was nearly smashed into your mattress as Mingi ruthlessly stuffed his large cock in your tight hole. He grunted loudly and affirmatively as he gripped your ass harder, his rings digging into your skin, your skin getting redder with his occasional slap.

Mingi was the first to notice. Your phone was on the nightstand, and it was ringing. He slowed his pace so he could reach over and grab it to decline the call on your behalf. He tossed your phone onto the bed near your hand and upped his tempo while pulling your ass higher into the sky.

And yet, your phone rang again. You quickly declined it before Mingi could notice, but he did. It was when it rang for the third time that Mingi had enough.

“Princess,” he grunted. “Gimme your phone.”

“W-why?”

“Just gimme.”

You unlocked your phone and pushed it backwards towards him— you trusted Mingi, so you had no problem doing as he asked. And Mingi didn’t abuse that trust. He simply opened the call log and saw the sea of red missed or declined calls, all of them from the same, unsaved number. He blocked the number and locked your phone before setting it back on the nightstand where it originally was, then he continued to fuck your brains out.

Mingi wanted it to be done then and there, which technically it was because you blocked the number, but that didn’t stop a bad feeling from manifesting within him.

“Yo, Mingi, you gonna meet us at the restaurant?” Yunho asked the singer.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call Y/N first—”

“You mean your pretty princess?” San teased— your name on Mingi’s phone was “pretty princess”, and the guys teased him all the time for it.

“Your pretty preppy princess?” Wooyoung piled on.

“Yes, my pretty princess. Go choke on some soju,” Mingi frowned and shooed the boys away.

The four other members of IT’S YOU(TH) skipped cheerfully away, leaving Mingi alone by his car. He started calling you only for someone to grab his phone.

“IT’S YOU(TH), huh? Cute.”

Mingi whipped around, his jaw tensing as he got ready to beat the shit out of whoever stole his phone from him.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude? Give my phone back, or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Mingi warned aggressively.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the same voice said.

Stepping closer to him, a man with a flowery charm but deadly eyes appeared before Mingi. He dangled his phone as he stood before him, riling Mingi up further. He tightened his fist and prepared to swing, only for two pairs of arms to restrain him. The two people behind him brought Mingi down to his knees and kept him there, one man kneeling on his back while the other had a fistful of Mingi’s hair tight in his grasp.

“What the fuck do you want?” Mingi asked, his anger intensifying. “If it’s money, I’ll give you however much you want.”

“I don’t need your money, guitar boy. I want Y/N.”

“What?”

The man crouched in front of Mingi and held his phone up, the lock screen of you and Mingi shining brightly. He pointed at you and said, “I want Y/N back.”

“Oh, you’re a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Mingi couldn’t help but scoff. “Listen, she’s not one for me to give back. She likes me, so she’s dating me. She doesn’t like you, so she’s not dating you. It’s her choice, dude.”

Without a warning, the guy punched Mingi in the face. Mingi’s cheek immediately started bleeding, his eye throbbing with pain. Before he could recover from the shock of the punch, the man sent a mean hook into his jaw, Mingi’s head flying to the side. The guy behind him held his head back up, forcing Mingi to make eye contact with the asshole that just punched him.

“She didn’t break up with me because she stopped liking me, you asshole. She broke up with me because of you.”

Mingi didn’t bother responding— villains usually always revealed everything without being prompted.

“Ever since she went and saw your cute little band, she told me she “fell in love with you” and that she would literally “do anything” for you. Someone like you with your fucking pretty boy make up and your painted nails and your criminal face tattoo,” the man sneered in Mingi’s face. “Someone like you of all fucking people.”

“Seonghwa,” one of the men behind Mingi uttered. “Get to the point.”

“Shut the fuck up, Hongjoong,” the man, who Mingi could now identify as Seonghwa, snapped. Turning back to Mingi, Seonghwa continued, “She was still dating me the day you signed her fucking bra. And then the concert after that, you fucking asked her out, and she said yes and dropped me in a heartbeat.”

“How is that my fault?! I asked her out, but she could’ve said no!” Mingi argued.

“It’s you and your fucking band’s fault for even existing, you asshole!”

Seonghwa grabbed the collar of Mingi’s shirt and pulled him up, the two other men behind Mingi still holding onto him.

“Hongjoong, Jongho, let go. I want to beat this guy up,” Seonghwa hissed.

“Seonghwa, calm down—”

“Fucking drop his ass!”

Hongjoong and Jongho let go of Mingi, and Seonghwa immediately swung before Mingi could stop him. Mingi fell to the ground, allowing Seonghwa to start kicking the shit out of him. He couldn’t even get away from Seonghwa, but thankfully, his two friends held him back.

“Do you really think Y/N is going to want to be with you if you do shit like this?”

“Don’t give her a reason to hate you, dude.”

“Ugh, fine!” Seonghwa admitted defeat before shaking his friends off. “But you, Song Mingi, you better break up with her or else.”

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” Mingi scoffed.

“No. I’ll destroy the rest of your band.”

The color in Mingi’s face drained. He could handle someone threatening him, but the thought of anyone from IT’S YOU(TH) getting hurt because of him or disbanding because of him was terrifying to him.

“Y-you… You wouldn’t.”

“I can, and I will. Break up with Y/N, and you and your band can sing your silly songs for the rest of time. Stay with her, and I’ll drive everyone in your life away from you.” Seonghwa tossed Mingi’s phone back to him. He crouched in front of him and added, “You have ’til the next concert.”

With that, Seonghwa and his friends left Mingi next to his car bleeding, afraid, and alone.

“That’s why your eye was black?” Yeosang asked with shock.

“Yes.”

“Mingi… I’m so sorry,” San sounded like he was about to cry.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have to choose like that. Her ex-boyfriend is a complete psychopath!” Wooyoung added just as emotionally.

The three boys smothered Mingi with hugs while Yunho stood a little bit away, a frown plastered to his face.

“Alright, but now you all will drop it, right?” Mingi grunted as he tried to escape the group hug.

The boys nodded and verbally agreed. They started to head back inside, but Mingi stayed outside to burn through another cigarette. Yunho stayed with him.

“Don’t say anything, man. I know you,” Mingi sighed as he fished out his carton of cigarettes again.

Yunho didn’t say anything. Instead, he gave Mingi a silent hug, his hand petting the back of the singer’s head. Tears welled up in Mingi’s eyes. He dropped his face into Yunho’s shoulder and hugged the keyboardist back as he silently sobbed about his broken heart.

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◈ right next to the heart // chwe hansol

vernon x gn!reader, 1.9k+ words

tags: requested by @weird-bookworm, non-idols au, established relationship, hurt/comfort

warnings: pet names (darling), food mention

notes: writing this made me realise that writing hurt comfort where yn is in the wrong is so rare,,, but this was so entertaining to write ^^

“You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

Hansol looks up at you from his bowl of dumplings and shrimp tempura that he’d been ready to devour before you’d spoken. Today is Chinese takeout day, and he’s been craving tempura for ages.

“Um.” He sets down his chopsticks, seeing the upset frown on your face. “No, I haven’t?”

It seems to be the wrong thing to say, because you frown even further, face scrunching up in annoyance. “Yes, you have. When was the last, actual conversation we had today?”

The question sounds rhetorical, but you’re staring at Hansol like he needs to give an actual answer, so he swallows unsurely, thinking back. 

It’s a Saturday, so both of you have been at home, doing nothing but having a chill day. That morning, however, you’d come up to him whilst he was lounging on the couch, informing him that you didn’t feel too well so you planned to lie in bed for most of the day.

“Okay,” Hansol had said, looking up at you worriedly. “Is everything alright?”

He’d sat up, reaching upwards to feel your forehead, but you’d shaken your head and waved his concern away.

“I’m fine. I’m not, like, sick. I just feel a bit down? So I’m going to stay in bed.”

Hansol had nodded at that, understanding. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.”

You’d promised you would, and that had been the last he’d seen of you.

That interaction seems to be the correct answer, so Hansol turns to you, blinking a little unsurely. “Uh, when you told me you wanted to stay in bed this morning? You weren’t feeling too good.”

“Oh, so you do remember,” you say, sounding both irritated and upset, and now Hansol is most definitely lost. “If you knew that I was having a bad day today, then why did you purposefully ignore me? Do you really care so little about me?”

Your words hit him like a punch to the throat, and Hansol feels so startlingly hurt by your statement that he can’t say anything back, mouth hanging open in shock, astounded.

His Chinese takeout is now completely forgotten, the mood souring so abruptly and he doesn’t feel like eating anymore. Not with the way you’re looking at him, with the words that you’d just uttered that leave him reeling. He never imagined that you'd say something like that to him.

You scoff as his mind stays completely blank, still in shock.

“You can’t even say anything in your defence, can you?” You roughly stand up from the dining table, chair scraping against the floor and storm off, all the way back to your room. The sound of you slamming the door echoes throughout the apartment.

Hansol still sits there, feeling confused and… very hurt. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He doesn’t know how your mind jumped to the conclusion that he doesn’t care about you, which is so wrong on so many levels that he feels his heart squeezing painfully at the implication that he did something to make you think that way.

But the pain is kind of offset by the fact that Hansol doesn’t know what he did. Why are you acting like this?

He can’t very well get the answers he’s looking for by just sitting there and not talking to you, so he stands up too, and makes his way to your room.

“Y/N,” he says, knocking on your door. “Y/N, hey, talk to me. What are you talking about?”

“Go away,” is your muffled reply. It sounds like you’ve buried your face in the cushions. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y/N,” Hansol repeats, “please talk to me. I’m sorry you feel like this, okay? But I don’t know why you’re upset. I need to know what I did wrong. Please open the door and talk to me.”

You stay silent.

Hansol sighs. He raps his knuckles against your door again, contemplating, before deciding to pull out his most effective tactic.

“Darling,” he says, very quietly. “Darling, please, can we talk about this?”

You love pet names. Love the corny affection of it, how it’s like a special name for your significant other. Hansol doesn’t really understand the appeal, because he prefers to say your name over anything else, but, well. He loves you. He’ll do anything to show that he loves you, always.

“Please open the door for me, darling.”

There’s a very long moment where he thinks you’re still refusing to budge, but then the doorknob turns very slowly, and you open the door a sliver.

Hansol puts his hand on the door, opening it just a little more so he can look at you properly, see your face better. You won’t look at him, head tilted down sullenly, but Hansol opens his mouth and begins to speak anyway.

“You said that I’ve been ignoring you. What makes you think that?”

He can see you clench teeth, jaw set tight. You still don’t look at him. 

“Why do you care?”

“I—” Hansol sighs, tired, and pushes open the door fully, before stepping into your room and dragging you over to sit down on the bed. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks, once both of you are seated. 

You’re still steadfastly refusing his gaze, so he brings a hand to your chin and forces your eyes upwards.

“Why?” he asks again. “What is making you think that I no longer care about you? You told me you were having a bad day, Y/N, so I let you stay in bed and relax. Why does that make you think I’ve been ignoring you?”

“Because you were!” you burst out, waving your hands angrily. At least you’re keeping eye contact, now, burning with upset. “I was having a bad day, and what did you do? Leave me to rot in my room all by myself! You left me alone, Hansol, and ignored me!”

Hansol blinks, dumbfounded. “You never asked me to stay with you,” he says back. “I told you to shout for me if you needed anything, but you didn’t, so I thought you were fine.”

You huff, irritated, like Hansol is the one acting unreasonably here, and he’s beginning to feel a little like he’s being wronged. 

“You’re my boyfriend,” you say, like it’s obvious. Your eyes look glassy. “You should know these things about me, and be there for me without me even asking!”

And then, like you’ve had enough of this conversation, you get up from the bed and storm out, again. Hansol rubs his eyes, feeling drained. He understands that you’ve been having a bad day, which is made obvious by how something as little as this is making you explode in his face.

He feels bad for you, of course, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel incredibly frustrated with the way you’re acting. None of this is his fault.

“Y/N,” he says despairingly, getting up to go look for you once more. “Y/N, come on, we really need to talk through this. You’re not being fair.”

“Just leave me alone,” you say, voice floating through the apartment from the living room, and he enters to find you sitting on the couch, hugging your knees. There are tears now running down your cheeks, eyes beginning to get all puffy, and you frown at him as he sits down next to you.

Hansol looks at you, and then looks away. He reaches over for the box of tissues kept on the coffee table, and hands one to you. You look down at it, before reaching over for the box and getting a tissue yourself.

He tries not to feel too slighted by the obvious snub, and folds up the tissue to put into his own pocket. And then he continues to sit there, observing you quietly as you blow your nose and rub at your eyes, still crying silently.

After a few minutes, you look over at him with puffy eyes. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs, a little meek. “I’m trying not to leave you alone.”

You give a watery huff, trying to scowl even as your lips tremble, and you look down at your knees once again. You’re not in a mood to talk—he’s accepted that. But he’ll just wait until you are.

───────────── 📼

It takes almost half an hour, but eventually you wipe your eyes for the last time, take a deep breath, and turn around on the couch to properly face him. Hansol immediately snaps to attention, turning his body to face you too.

“Sorry,” you mutter, sullenly. “I was being a brat.”

He sighs. “You were,” he admits, not unkindly. “I’m just your boyfriend, darling. Not a mind reader. There’s always going to be stuff that you need to tell me about, if you want something. I can’t automatically know things all the time.”

“Yeah, I know, I just—” You scrub your eyes, shoulders slumping. “I’ve been having a really bad day. It’s no excuse, I know,” you add, before he says anything, “but it’s been really, really bad, today.”

Hansol nods sympathetically, and reaches over to pat your hair. “I know. And I want you to tell me that, so I can help. We need to communicate this stuff to each other.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I should’ve told you instead of just blowing up all in your face like that,” you say, and your eyes flick up to look at him. “I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

You say it so quietly, no trace of any lingering anger or sulkiness in your tone, and Hansol kind of melts. He’s always been soft for you, and it’s evident now as he instantly opens his arms for a hug, letting you press up into him, face buried into his shoulder.

“It was really stupid of me to think that you’d just read my mind,” you say into the fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m so sorry, Hansol. And—god, I’m so sorry for saying that you don’t care about me. I know you do, so much, all the time, and I’m sorry for saying that. It’s not true, and I know it.”

“Hey, hey,” Hansol says, rubbing circles into your back to calm you down before you can work yourself up any more. “It’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I know.”

There comes sniffling sounds from below his chin. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles. “I know that too. And I forgive you.”

You sniff again. "You forgave me way too easily," you say, guiltily, words all blurred with remorse. "You always forgive people so easily."

He pats your back slowly, and he can't explain it, but his heart swells a little at your words. Something about the softness of your tone, the acceptance that you've done something to hurt him, the genuine guilt and also the love... You're essentially berating him for being too forgiving, but all he can think about is how much he loves you.

"Maybe," he says, as nonchalantly as he can with the affection blending into his voice. "But I still forgive you."

You make a soft noise at that, before burying yourself to hide further in the crook of Hansol’s neck, and he lets you.

“Hey,” you say after a moment, soft. “I love you.”

Hansol smiles, the genuine affection in your words saying more than what those mere eight letters can convey. He kisses the top of your head. 

“I love you too,” he returns, and pulls away a bit so he can see your face, tilting your head up so that you make eye contact. His eyes are focused on you, gentle and kind. “Let’s communicate with each other more about this stuff, yeah? I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you again.”

There’s a moment where your eyes search his, darting back and forth before you smile, and lean back into his arms.

“Don’t worry. I already know.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

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dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy kink/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor hungry people could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

-

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. When you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half.

“Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” Humming, you reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel your clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled again, his eyes sparkling this time. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask another question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

---

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

---

THE BABYSITTER.

Felix x reader x Hyunjin. (s,f)

Synopsis: Working as the family's babysitter, you learn a lot from Hyunjin and Felix's happy marriage life, including their sex life. (13,3k words)

Author's note: Sorry for the late delivery. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Unlike any other toddlers, little Aster has a liking for vacuum cleaners. Instead of going to the toy store, he prefers going to the electronic store to look at vacuums, he doesn't play with them but likes hearing their sounds. You believe it's because it offers a similar sound to the white noise machine he has in his room.

"Vacuum!" He adorably shouts, jumping on his little feet while pointing at the vacuum on the display.

"Yes, vacuum!" You nod.

"Wanna play!" He cutely mumbles while tugging his index finger between his two front teeth.

Seeing that it is displayed on the top shelf, there's no way you can put it down yourself and risk knocking the other things on the display, you squat down to be on the same eye level with him.

"It's too heavy," you tell him, gently patting his small head.

You point at the one on the bottom shelf and offer it to him to play, "How about this one?"

He eagerly nods, watching you take the vacuum cleaner for a spin even though it's not turned on. You carefully hand it to him, letting him hold the handle with his small hand, and push it through the aisle of the electronic store.

"Do you like it, Aster?"

He's laughing as he keeps pushing and making vacuuming sounds through his little mouth. His laughter is so infectious that you can't help but laugh as well.

The journey in the electronic store continues to the lawnmowers. You let Aster walk on his own and observe the lawnmowers parked throughout the whole section.

"Car!" He says as he taps at the tire of the red lawnmower.

"It's not a car," you inform, lifting him by the waist and putting him on the lawnmower.

He turns his head at you with a questioning look on his face.

"It's a lawnmower," you tell him.

"Lamoomoowee," he incorrectly pronounces it, riding the lawnmower like a hobbyhorse.

"Lawnmower," you slowly enunciate it for him while steadily holding his back to prevent him from falling.

"Lammowah," he gets it even wrong this time and as if he knows he says it wrong, he breaks into a wide grin.

Oh, this is why you like children, they're pure and innocent, as opposed to adults who are oftentimes complicated and messy. With children, you get to be honest and open, you don't have to be afraid of being judged, and they see you for what you truly are.

"You're blessed with a beautiful boy," a lady says as she gently gives Aster a quick ruffle on his hair.

You feel flattered whenever someone thinks that Aster is your child but if his real parents caught anyone saying that to you, you're sure they'd be offended.

"Oh, thank you!" You mutter with a smile, "But I'm just the babysitter."

"Oh?" The lady gasps in surprise, then gives Aster another ruffle and a gentle pinch on his cheek before leaving you be.

Your phone dings in your jacket pocket and you pull it out to check if it's coming from Aster's dad. Indeed it is and he's almost finished getting his hair done.

"Aster baby, we have to go," You say to him, taking him by the hand and putting him back into the stroller, "Dada is waiting!"

You're told to meet him by the entrance of the supermarket so as you're pushing the stroller, you're craning your neck to find him.

"There's dada!" You exclaim once you spot him.

Aster is giggling as he is strapped into his seat as you push the stroller at full speed and start wriggling his body when he notices his father waving his hand at him.

"Hi, sweet boy," Felix says to his son, unbuckling the straps around his chest and lifting him.

"Are you having fun?" He asks the little one with a boop on his nose.

"Yes," Aster answers with a nod and presses his mouth onto Felix's cheek.

"We just got back from looking at vacuums," you share while holding onto the stroller.

"Must be fun. Dada is jealous," he jokingly says while hoisting Aster higher in his arms.

He then turns to look at you and shows his new hairstyle, it's still blonde but it looks like he trimmed it a little.

"What do you think?" He asks for your opinion while giving his hair a subtle flip.

You lowly chuckle, "You look stunning!"

"Thank you," he says, then turns at Aster to ask for his approval next, "Do you like it, Aster?"

"Yes," he shortly says, it's unsure whether he understands the question or not but it's enough to make Felix smile in response.

This is when you find the resemblance between Aster and his dad, they share the same warm genuine smile with their nose slightly scrunched.

The trip continues with a grocery shopping and Aster gets distracted by the plush toys on the shelf, pointing at the one that looks like the pet dog at home.

"Mandu!" He shouts in excitement.

You grab one and hand it to him, letting him play with it as he sits inside the trolley.

"It indeed looks like Mandu," Felix says as he puts a loaf of bread into the trolley.

"What a lovely couple!" An elderly says as she walks past the three of you.

Felix and you automatically exchange a look and then burst into laughter at the same time.

This is not the first time both of you have heard such a thing. Whenever the two of you are together, especially with Aster around, it seems to them that the two of you are married and Aster is your love child.

First of all, you wouldn't mind having Felix as a husband, he's beautiful and kind, he's a successful food blogger who has written dozens of cookbooks, and ultimately, a good dad to Aster.

Unfortunately, Felix is very well taken and is happily married to his husband, Hwang Hyunjin.

-

"Bubba!"

That's a nickname Aster likes to call you, you pick up his toy from under the sofa in case it's what he tries to say to you.

"Yes, sweet Aster?"

"Water, please?" He sweetly asks while rubbing his chest with his hand, a sign language that means 'please'.

"I'll get it for you," Felix says from the kitchen even though he's busy preparing dinner.

You stay with Aster, keeping him company as he's playing with his toys in front of the TV.

Felix comes with Aster's water bottle and offers it to his son himself, he watches as he sucks water through the straw.

"My sweet boy is thirsty, huh?"

Aster swallows his drinks and gasps in exaggeration, "Thank you, dada!!" He cutely mutters.

"You're very welcome, angel," he says back and kisses the top of his head.

Felix may seem tough with his lean, toned body and his deep voice but that's just what he appears to be. As opposed to tough exteriors, he has a very tender soul and is not afraid to show it.

"Do you mind turning on the news?" He politely asks.

"Yep, sure," you say, flicking the TV channels to the one you know he wanted to see.

Felix's husband, Hyunjin, works as a news anchor in a TV station and he usually works either the noon or the night news but at times, he does one in between those times.

"I texted him, telling him to wink if he wants Martinis served when he comes home," Felix says as he's chuckling while his hand constantly playing with Aster's hair.

"Oh? What?" You gasp and you must admit that an interesting way to flirt with one another, "You think he'll do it?"

Felix shrugs but he knows what he's doing because who doesn't like having drinks served when you come home after a long day of work? Not you, obviously and it's sad that no one does that for you.

A few minutes later, the breaking news intro flashes through the screen and you guess this must be it. Hyunjin's long and angular face fills the screen, his dark hair slicked back and he wears a tie in a color that compliments his skin tone well.

"Look, Aster! That's Daddy!" You say as you shake his hand in excitement.

Aster looks up from his toy and sees his dad's face on the screen, his face lights up like a Christmas tree once he sees him.

"Daddy!" He shouts.

"That's Daddy," Felix says, planting another kiss on Aster's head.

Mandu barks noticing the familiar face on TV and starts standing on his hind legs as if he's trying to reach Hyunjin through the screen.

"The meeting of the 49th Asia Audit Committee was held on 11 March at the Asia Hall to discuss matters related to audit, risk, and governance of the secretariat," Hyunjin eloquently reads the news then there it is, the wink. It's so subtle that it may seem like he was trying to blink but it's a wink.

Felix cracks a laugh, probably not expecting that he would actually do it on national broadcast and in the middle of him reading the news.

"Well, guess we'll be having Martini tonight," he says as he gets up from the carpeted floor, "You should stay for dinner because you don't want to miss it."

You feel bad for always turning down his offer and you reckon it's time to accept the invitation for dinner. Also because Martini sounds like a nice treat.

"Well, since I'm driving, I'll only have one Martini," you remind him.

"Wise choice!" He comments.

To be honest, it's always a treat to have dinner at this household. Despite his specialty in baking, Felix is a great cook and you'd love to have dinner here every day if you could but you don't want to be greedy and exploit their kindness. Boundaries exist for a reason and you respect those boundaries because at the end of the day, they're your employers and you are the employee.

Hearing the familiar sound of his dad's car pulling up the driveway, Aster runs to the door with Mandu trailing behind him, he's squealing with saliva dribbling down one corner of his mouth.

You abruptly stop setting the table to follow him and are ready to help if he accidentally trips or falls, you stop him from going further and make him wait in the foyer.

"Daddy will be here soon," you assure him, containing his excitement with one arm around his waist.

A moment later, the door opens and Hyunjin steps inside, he's still dressed in his work attire sans the suit jacket, he has his white shirt loosened around the neck and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Aster jumps as he squeals and you can't contain him anymore, you let him run at his dad. Hyunjin is quick enough to get on his knees and catches him in his arms.

"Is this Aster or monster Aster?" He likes to baby talk to the little one while pressing ticklish kisses onto his neck.

"This is monster Aster!" He playfully tickles Aster's stomach, making him squirm and giggle, more drool dribbling down his mouth.

"Give Daddy a kiss!" He demands, offering his cheek at him.

Aster opens his mouth wide and instead of kissing, it looks like he's going to take a bite out of Hyunjin's cheek.

"Ouch! That hurts!" He exclaims, rubbing his cheek which is wet with Aster's drool.

You gasp when you see the faint teeth mark on Hyunjin's cheek, "Oh, my God! You have the—" you point at his cheek.

"This is not the first time," Hyunjin calmly says to you while walking further into the house, he drops his briefcase on the sofa and comes up to his husband who's busy making sure the spaghetti sauce is flavorful.

Hyunjin places a hand on the small of Felix's back and leans in for a long, lingering kiss on the lips. Felix drops everything he's doing to properly welcome him home with a hu and not enough with one kiss, Felix pecks his lips and smiles when he pulls away.

"Aster bit me," Hyunjin immediately tells on his own son like a child, pointing at the teeth mark on his cheek.

Felix hurriedly checks it and gently rubs it with his thumb, "Aster, you bit daddy?"

"Monster Aster!" He mumbles in response to Felix.

"Oh? Monster Aster who bit daddy?"

"Uh-huh," he repeatedly nods.

"Monster Dada is coming to bite you then," Felix jokingly says.

Aster breaks into laughter and then hides in Hyunjin's neck as Felix attacks him with kisses on his stomach. It's just the three of them in their loving bubble.

"What are we having for dinner?" Hyunjin asks with his hand placing gentle rubs on Felix's back.

"Spaghetti with meatballs, Aster's favorite," He answers while stirring sauce in the pan.

"Smell good," Hyunjin comments, and then they exchange a look that is filled with so much love.

The whole interaction makes you feel like you're watching a movie scene that describes what a happy, loving family looks like. Your heart bursts thinking if the future holds something like this for you too.

"Can you stay with Bubba, darling?" Hyunjin says to his son, coming up to you to hand him over.

"Daddy will get back soon, okay?" He convinces him with a kiss on the cheek before leaving to go upstairs.

"And you, young gentleman, time to wash those dirty hands," you tell him.

Dinner is served on the table and just from the look of it, you can tell Felix's cooking is going to taste so good like always. Once in a while, you check Aster if he's eating his dinner well and from the way his mouth is slobbering with spaghetti sauce, you can tell he is.

"Isn't it like spring break for you?" Hyunjin suddenly asks.

You swallow your food before answering, "Yes."

"And you don't have any plans for spring break?"

"I do. The plan is playing with your 18-month-old son," you playfully answer while twirling pasta with your fork.

Hyunjin doesn't ask more about it, you guess he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with those kinds of questions.

"She doesn't like going out much," Felix says then flashes a knowing smile at you, "Just like you."

Hyunjin pouts at him in response but Felix finds it cute that he grabs his hand on the table and squeezes it.

"Is that true?" Hyunjin asks for confirmation from you.

"Yeah. I just want to finish college as soon as possible and I can do all those things later," you explain.

You understand that this way of thinking is unlike most people but you like to keep your focus on one thing and that is finishing your education.

You didn't even plan to keep working as their babysitter, you needed the extra money to replace your crappy car but as time goes on, you learned that they're a nice family and Aster is such a sweetheart so you decide to continue working for them until you graduate.

"Look at me, baby!" You say as you wipe Aster's mouth with a wet wipe.

He keeps wanting to nestle his head in your neck but you can't let him do that with all the spaghetti sauce all over his mouth and cheeks.

"You're getting sleepy, mmh?" you sweetly mutter as you reach to clean his cheek but he keeps dodging away.

It's not even his bedtime yet and Aster usually plays for a bit after dinner, but it seems like he can barely keep his eyes open anymore.

Hyunjin checks on you and notices that Aster is getting drowsy, "I'll get him to bed," he softly mutters to you.

You carefully hand Aster to him and he immediately nuzzles his head into the crook of his neck, then rest his eyes closed.

Since Hyunjin is taking your task away, you decide to help Felix clean up in the kitchen, scraping the leftovers off the plate to load them into the dishwasher next.

"You don't have to do that," Felix says as he's busy gathering the ingredients for the Martini.

"But I already did," you say with a grin and close the dishwasher, "Can I help you with anything?"

He looks over his shoulder at you, "Yeah, can you take the cocktail glasses out of the fridge?"

"Got you," you open the fridge and have no problem finding the three chilled dainty cocktail glasses perched on the the middle shelf of the fridge.

Felix meticulously measures the liquor, one part dry vermouth, and 6 parts gin before pouring them into the mixing glass, then gives it a good shake.

Once he deems it's mixed well, he carefully pours them into the glasses and instead of olives, he uses the lemon peel as garnish.

You're impressed with his drink-mixing skill but more impressed with how elegant he looks doing all that stuff.

"I want to be you when I grow up," you say in awe.

That earns a nice chuckle out of him as he wipes the kitchen island with a napkin, "You will," he playfully says.

"Now, where's my hard-earned Martini?" Hyunjin says as he returns from putting Aster to sleep and comes back carrying Mandu in one arm.

Felix lifts the drink and shows it to him, "It's ready!"

After having a toast, you can't bring yourself to drink it because it looks so pretty but not drinking it would be rude to the one who made it. You take a small sip and try to reserve it as long as possible.

It's so refreshing and nice, you can taste a hint of citrus from the lemon. You believe it's the first time you have a drink that is skillfully made by some.

"This is so good," you genuinely compliment and can't stop yourself from getting another sip at it.

"Compliment to the chef!" Hyunjin says with a seductive smile and pulls Felix closer to his side, resting his arm around his waist.

There's the look of love again and you can tell what's coming after that, yep, Hyunjin kisses Felix on the lips with his smile lingers on his face.

Flustered, Felix hides his face in his neck exactly like Aster did earlier.

"You always smell good, babe," Felix whispers and he probably thinks that you don't see him planting kisses onto Hyunjin's neck.

Hyunjin tilts Felix's head to land a sweet kiss on his lips and they smile at each other after, "I like it whenever you do that," he mutters, pulling him even closer to his side.

All of a sudden, you feel like third wheeling, you abort your plan to savor every sip of your Martini and gulp it at once.

"It's getting late. I'd better go," you say, putting the glass down on the kitchen island.

Not waiting for their response, you gather your things and shove them into your bag. You're walking back to them to say bye.

"Be careful on the way home," Felix says as he gives you a quick hug.

You hoist the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, "I will. Goodnight!"

"I'll send you off," Hyunjin offers, walking you out of the door, and as you take the car keys out of your bag, he snatches it.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" He asks.

"It's only one drink," you assure him.

"Sobriety test. Go!" He says, refusing to make a compromise.

You subtly roll your eyes at him and walk in a straight line to prove that you're not under the influence and sober enough to drive.

"See?" You tell him as you turn around to face him.

"Now, do a cartwheel!" He orders, leaning his side against the doorway.

"Seriously?" You groan.

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, "No. I'm joking."

He approaches you to hand your car keys back and puts them right in your hand, "Here. Drive safely."

"I will."

"Thank you for today," he says as he stands in the doorway.

You flash him a smile before getting into your car, "Goodnight, Mr. Hwang!" You poke fun, knowing how much he hates being called by his surname.

"It's Hyunjin," he insists while gritting his teeth.

You have the fun now and chuckle, "Goodnight, it's Hyunjin!" You shout as you pull the car out of the driveway.

That's pretty much how your day went in the Hwang-Lee household. You've been working for them for eight months and there's not a day where you don't feel jealous of their romantic and harmonious marriage life.

-

They don't make you babysit on the weekends but there's always an exception.

Tonight is a date night for Felix and Hyunjin, and you come a little after seven even though they'll leave at 8. You knock on the door and let yourself in, they probably know you'll be coming anyway.

"Bubba is here!" Felix says, knowing that it's you who came through the door.

Aster appears from behind the wall and grins when he looks at you, he's trudging his way to you and almost stumbles on his own little feet.

"It's Astalalala," you exclaim, calling him by the nickname you give him. You squat down to hug him and catch a whiff of that nice baby scent that clings to him.

"How are you, sweet Aster?" You ask.

"Good," he shortly answers.

"And where's my kiss?" You ask, tapping your cheek to show him where to kiss.

He rushes to kiss you on the cheek and instead of his lips, his nose bumps your cheek first.

"Thank you, Astalala," you sweetly say with a smile.

You carry him up as you walk inside and find Felix in the kitchen as you expected, he is already dressed in a dark silk shirt with a tie-neck collar and is making sandwiches.

"Hey, I made you a cold-cut sandwich," He says, shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"Oh, no. I had dinner," you meekly say, feeling bad for refusing.

"Well, you can have it later," he simply resolves.

"With pleasure," you respond because it looks so good and you'll definitely eat it as soon as you get hungry.

"Aster had his dinner already," He informs you as he puts back everything into the fridge.

He suddenly lands a slap on his forehead as if he's just remembered something, "Oh, I forgot to change his pillow covers."

"Don't worry, I'll do it," you assure him.

He awkwardly stands in front of you and asks, "Is it too much?"

"Not at all. You look stunning," you convince him, turning your head at Aster to seek his approval, "Right, Aster?"

"Yesss," he hisses through his bunny teeth.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Felix says and presses a kiss on his round cheek.

As you take Aster to the living room to watch his favorite cartoon, Hyunjin appears from the top of the stairs and is dressed in a suit, he skips the tie tonight and keeps the top two buttons open.

"Are you ready to leave?" He asks his husband who's still busy in the kitchen.

Felix glances up to see Hyunjin descending the stairs, "Yeah. I just need to—"

"Oh, my God. Stop cleaning up," you scold him since he can't seem to relax without making sure his kitchen is clean and tidy.

Felix drops the cloth and washes his hands under the sink, "Yes, I'm ready," he replies to his husband.

Hyunjin and Felix take turns kissing Aster before leaving the house, you send them on their way out while carrying their son in your arms.

"Bye, baby," Felix throws an air kiss at Aster.

"Bye, bye, dada!" You make him say them to his dad and he follows suit, waving his small hand at him as he says it.

"Have a great night!" You shout at them before they get into the car.

There's not much left to do but play with Aster in the living room and at the first sign of him getting drowsy, you hurriedly run him a bath and prepare him for bed.

As he picks the storybook he wants you to read, you change his pillow covers per Felix's instruction, then you sit on the small sofa and have Aster sit on your lap to read the storybook together, he mostly looks at the pictures as you read it to him.

It doesn't take long until he drifts into sleep with his head resting on your chest, you cuddle him until he's deep in his slumber before putting him in his crib.

"Night, sweet Aster," you whisper and leave the door to his bedroom slightly ajar.

As a reward, you eat the sandwich Felix made and it's worth every bite of it, having it with a can of soda from the fridge. Finished with your second dinner, you take a tour around the house, looking at the photos hung on the walls.

One is of Aster when he was a baby along with his tiny footprints and then there's a picture of the three of them together on Aster's first birthday. On the biggest frame is Hyunjin and Felix's wedding photo, they're both wearing white suits but Hyunjin's is embroidered with a flower pattern while Felix has this lace tail on the back of his suit jacket. You've never seen a more beautiful couple than them and you believe they're what people call a match made in heaven.

Having nothing else to do, you curl up on the sofa and read a book you brought with you. The next thing you know, you wake up startled hearing someone entering the passcode to the house.

You scramble to get up and pick up the book falling off your lap, you check the time on your phone, it's a little after eleven so it must be them coming back from their date.

It's true, you can hear their laughs as they enter the house and their low chatter, you also catch them smooching through the reflection on the TV screen. You act like you're not seeing it and cover your face with the book, pretending to read.

When you hear their footsteps coming into the room, you slowly put down your book and smile, "Oh, you guys are back!"

"Oh, hey," Felix says, foolishly grinning with his cheeks flushed, looking like he's slightly drunk.

Hyunjin looks not that different, his cheeks red and he's all smiles when he places his hand on Felix's waist.

"I'll go check on Aster," he says with a soft smile.

You wait until Hyunjin leaves to ask something, "Hey, do you mind if I'm staying over? I'm so sleepy, I don't think I'll able to drive home—"

"Of course!" Felix hastily answers, then sits on the sofa next to you, "You know I don't feel good letting you drive at night."

"Oh, thank you," you sincerely say.

"Hey, since you're staying, why don't we have a glass of wine?"

It's a nice offer and you would love to accept it but you don't want to disturb their date night, it's better if you get yourself out of the scene as to not ruin it for them.

"I'd love to but I'm... I'm tired," you gently refuse with an apologetic smile.

He places his hand on your hand and squeezes it, "That's okay. You'd better rest then."

You smile at him and bring your book with you, "Goodnight."

"Night!" He says back.

Right before you enter the guest room, you see Hyunjin surprises Felix with a back hug and then he whispers something into his ear that makes him laugh, filling the space with his deep laughter.

Now you know that they're not drunk, they're just in love.

-

Sunday morning at the Hwang-Lee household consists of a hungry toddler and a cook who doubts his pancake souffle is fluffy enough. Then you enter the scene as a girl in search of her first intake of caffeine.

"Morning," you cheerily greet everyone, softly poking Aster's cheek as he chews on his mini pancakes.

"Morning!" Felix says back without looking up from the pan, "Coffee?"

"I'll get it myself," you say, getting yourself a cup from the cabinet and carefully pouring some hot coffee from the pot.

"How's your sleep?" He asks, serving you a delicious-looking pancake souffle, it jiggles as he pushes the plate across the kitchen island.

"I slept so well, thank you," you answer with a sleepy smile and start with a small sip of coffee, you can feel it rejuvenate you from the inside.

Felix anxiously watches as you eat the pancake, "Do you think it's fluffy enough?"

You take a moment to chew and swallow before answering, "I think it's perfect," you honestly answer, it tastes even better than the ones made in the pastry shop.

"More apple, please!" Aster cutely asks.

Felix rushes to slice the peeled apple for him and places them on his plate, "More apple for Aster," he cutely says, then kisses his head.

"Thank you, dada," Aster mumbles with his mouth full of food.

He then pulls the drawer open and takes something out, "Since you're here..."

He slides an envelope toward you and you reckon it's your pay, he insists on paying weekly because he knows you may need it for gas. One look at it and you know they put extra bills in there. They have always been so generous with the pay.

"Thank you," you say, accepting it with gratitude.

"Do you mind running some errands for me tomorrow?"

"No. I don't mind at all," you answer.

Felix comes up with a list of things to buy along with his credit card, handing it to you, "You can come late tomorrow."

"Consider it done," you assure him, putting the list and the credit card into the envelope.

"The last one is for you," he says, putting a gift card in front of you, "So you don't have any excuses to not spoil yourself."

As expected, he knows you so well. You're reluctant to spend money on such things when it can be used for more important things but Felix oftentimes reminds you that it's okay to spoil yourself once in a while.

You crack a laugh and put the gift card into the envelope, "I will. Thank you," you say.

Not only generous, they always come with extra something like this. Just last week, he bought you a new laptop bag and scented candles.

The sound of Mandu's barks only means that Hyunjin is back from walking him. He comes in panting and brushing his dark hair to the back, exposing a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

"Mandu almost fought someone's dog," Hyunjin shares as he's getting himself a glass of water to quench his thirst. You find it cute that he likes to rant to his husband like a little kid.

"It's a Rottweiler and it's like this big," Hyunjin continues, describing how big the dog Mandu almost picked a fight with. He then goes to sit on the stool next to his son and watches his ear.

"What do you have here, baby?" Hyunjin asks the little one with a gentle ruffle on his hair.

"Apple," he shortly answers, offering a slice to him.

Hyunjin takes it into his mouth even though it's slobbering with yogurt, "yum..." he hums in delight.

Felix joins in with them, sitting next to him, and intently watches as Hyunjin digs into the pancake souffle.

"I don't think it's fluffy enough," Felix sighs, taking his baking very seriously.

Hyunjin takes a second to thoroughly taste it and says, "No, it's perfect," he disagrees with him.

He then looks at you to convince him more, "It's perfect. Right?"

"I told him the exact same thing earlier," you respond, shoving a spoonful of it into your mouth.

"It is?" Felix doubtfully asks as he also digs into the pancake and takes a bite.

"It's perfect," Hyunjin reassures him with a peck on his lips.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he softly mutters, "You're perfect."

This is too early for this but you have accepted the fact that there'll be not a day where it doesn't feel like you're third wheeling when you're around them. You look away and quietly sip your cup of coffee.

"Hey, we're going to the aquarium today. Are you coming?" Hyunjin asks.

You look around to check if Hyunjin is really asking you, "oh that sounds fun but I have to drive my mom to her book club meeting," you explain.

They had a date night and now they're having a family day, and it's endearing that they invite you along but you can only say yes once in a while.

You gently pinch Aster's round cheek and say, "Maybe next time.

-

The next day, you come to their house with both hands carrying bags of groceries. Notices that you're struggling to carry them yourself, Felix comes to your aid, taking a few bags out of your hands.

"Sorry I made you do all this," Felix says as he puts the bags on the kitchen counter with loud thudding sounds.

"No, it's okay. It's not a big deal," you assure him, putting the last few bags onto the counter.

Since everything is all accounted for, you take out all the receipts along with his credit card and give them back to him.

"I hope I didn't miss anything," you say.

Felix doesn't even glance at the receipts, he puts them inside the drawer and slips the credit card back into his wallet.

"I guess Aster is napping?" You ask, sitting on the stool with a glass of water.

"Yes, he just went to nap," he answers, "Lunch?"

"I had lunch."

"I just baked some Madeleine. Do you want some?" He offers.

"With tea?" You ask with your eyebrow raised.

He brightly grins as if you read his mind, "Of course!"

After putting away a box of party supplies in the pantry, you join Felix on the back porch for some tea and Madeleine he baked. The sunny weather makes a perfect ambiance for tea time.

You find Felix scribbling something in his notebook, the one he uses to write down recipes or ideas for his next cooking videos. You grab a Madeleine once you sit on the chair next to him.

"So, I assume you'll film a cooking video soon?"

After having Aster, Felix decides to be a stay-at-home dad and film cooking videos for his food blog, he's still has a great following and plans on writing a cookbook.

"Yes, and it's not going to be an easy one," He says, hinting at something with his scrunched nose.

"Does it involve your 19-month-old son?" You guess, raising your eyebrow at him.

One of Felix's most popular cooking videos is one with Aster in it, you guess people like seeing them together even though it could get messy at some point.

"It wouldn't be the first time," you say since you had the experience of helping them film the previous one and it was messy.

"Will you help me?" Felix asks with hopeful eyes.

"Absolutely!"

It's not even about the money anymore. Helping them comes as a second nature to you. In fact, they feel like a family to you that there's nothing that you wouldn't do for them.

-

Aster can indeed be a handful but not the kind that you can't manage. He was only 13 months old when the previous video was filmed and he's older now, hopefully, he's better at understanding what and how things work.

Once he wakes up from his nap, you give him snacks, some fruits, and cheese slices while Felix is preparing ingredients in the kitchen and setting up the cameras.

Now that he's refreshed from the nap and full from the snacks, Aster gets in the right mood to film with Felix. He makes him stand on the chair next to him to start filming.

Your job is simple, make sure that the cameras are recording well and filming at the right angles, the rest will be edited by Felix.

"Today, Aster and I are making banana bread," Felix says to the camera.

It never ceases to amaze you how that deep voice belongs to him.

"What are we making, Aster?" He asks his little one.

"Banana bread!" He eloquently answers.

"That's right," Felix cheerful responds and briefly kisses his head.

Felix starts peeling the banana and handing it to Aster, telling him to break them into pieces. Aster follows the instructions well but instead of dumping them into the mixing bowl, he eats it.

"You just had your snack a while ago," Felix says while laughing and letting him have a piece for now.

He then hands him the next banana and watches him breaking it off again. As he's about to put it in his mouth, he looks at him and says, "Aster, into the bowl!"

Aster gives in and dumps the banana into the bowl. However, on the third banana, he caves in and thinks of eating it again. Felix quietly watches him, letting him decide whether he would follow the urge or be able to resist it.

Aster looks at Felix and grins, catching him off guard, he shoves the banana into his small mouth. You hold the urge to laugh out loud watching the whole thing behind the camera.

"Bubba, I think we need more bananas," Felix mutters at you.

You hurriedly pick a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl and hand it to him, no need to worry about getting filmed, Felix will edit you out later.

After smashing the bananas in the bowl, Felix shows Aster how to crack an egg and dumps it into the bowl. He fails on the first try, completely shatters the egg and it drops onto the table.

"We'll do it together, okay?" Felix patiently teaches him to properly crack the egg on the edge of the bowl and successfully puts it into the bowl this time.

"You know what it is, Aster?" He lifts a bowl of flour at him.

Aster looks at you to find the answer, you inaudibly mutter the answer to him.

"Foufou," he hesitantly mumbles his answer.

"Yes, flour," Felix exclaims, letting him dump the whole thing into the mixing bowl.

Aster accidentally pours it off the bowl and some of it spills onto the table, "Oh, no..." he sadly mutters.

"That's okay," Felix assures him, adding extra flour from the bag.

"Now, sugar," he says, making Aster do it again.

He shakes his head, probably afraid would spill it again, "No. Dada do it," he says.

"Dada knows Aster can do it," he encourages but you can tell that he tries not to intervene as Aster lifts the bowl of sugar.

Aster manages to put it in perfectly and Felix gasps in pride, "See? Dada knows you can do it!"

Aster grins in response to his dad's praise and watches as Felix mixes the whole thing with a whisk. He stops to switch turns with his son, letting him mix it as he pleases.

"There you go," Felix sweetly mutters.

It indeed gets very messy at the end of the filming but it's nothing compares to how heartwarming it is watching them baking together. Felix is so patient and gentle the whole time and Aster is smart for his age, precocious even.

As everyone waits for the banana bread out of the oven, you take Aster to the back porch and let Mandu out to play in the backyard. Together, you're watching the sunset and a flock of birds flying in between the burst of gold and orange in the sky.

"Do you see that, Aster?"

"Birdies!" Aster exclaims, tilting his head and looking mesmerized by what he's seeing.

"Yes. Birdies flying," you say.

Aster raises his hand in the air and waves it at the birds, "Bye, bye birdies!"

"Bye, bye birdies," you follow suit, also waving your hand high.

When you come back inside, you are greeted by the delicious smell of freshly baked banana bread. Despite the messy process, it turns out really well.

Felix takes a few pictures for the blog and slices it to have a taste at it, he hands you a slice on a plate. As for Aster, he breaks a piece, blowing on it before feeding it to him.

"Does it taste good?"

"Good," he answers even though he's still chewing.

Considering that it was made by a toddler, it tastes alright and probably tastes better than the one baked by an amateur at baking like you.

"Good job, Aster," you raise your hand at him for a high-five.

In the middle of dinner, Aster gets sleepy and you immediately take him upstairs. You don't even need to read him a storybook or rocking him in your arms, he must be tired that he's falling asleep while having his bottle of milk.

You come back downstairs and find Felix has done cleaning up in the kitchen.

"Hey, will you stay for a round of video games?" Felix asks, turning around from the counter as you arrive at the base of the stairs.

Since Hyunjin will be coming home late to do late-night news, you decide to stay a little longer with Felix even though you have zero ideas on how to play video games. He patiently guides you through it while also controlling his console in his hands.

In the third round, you finally get the hang of it but not good enough to beat Felix at it. You eventually give up and decide to watch him play on the side.

Felix takes a break from playing and grabs two cans of beer from the fridge, drinking it on the sofa together.

"Hey, can I ask you some personal questions?" He asks out of the blue.

Yes, you're working for him but you are comfortable enough with him to talk about personal things. You nod in answer, "Yes, sure."

Felix sips his beer first before coming up with the personal question he wanted to ask, "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No," you answer with a light head shake.

"May I know why?"

"I'm not looking for relationships at the moment," you shortly answer.

Finishing your college is your top priority now and as for everything else, you can always do it later once you graduate.

"Is it because you don't want to or...?"

"I think I've said it before that I'm focusing on graduating college first," you answer.

"But are you open to it?"

"I'm always open to it but not for now," you firmly answer.

"How about casual ones?"

"You mean... casual dating?"

"Why? You've done it, right? Sex?"

You shyly chuckle because you don't talk about such things with anyone, not even with your mom.

"Don't get shy with me. We're both grown up and Aster is asleep," he says with a soft laugh.

"Well, I've done it but... I don't know," you decide to leave it at that, deciding not to tell him in detail.

"Was it good? Bad? Average?"

"I don't have that many experiences to know for certain if it was good or bad," you honestly share and it surprises you that you don't find it awkward to tell him that. Maybe it's because you know he won't be judgmental about it.

Felix nods at your answer and he seems to need a moment to process it, "Are you open to experiment?"

"You make it sound like it's a chem class," you playfully respond to his question.

"Experimenting is what led me to meet Aster's dad," Felix remarks with a quick eyebrow raise.

You crack a laugh and finish your can of beer, "I don't know. I'm not that confident with myself."

"Nonsense!" He strongly disagrees.

"You're undeniably gorgeous," he genuinely compliments as he brushes your hair to the side, "and that says something coming from me."

You laugh again and put down your empty can on the table, "well, thank you!"

Felix shifts on his seat and turns his body to face you, "do you trust me?"

"I do," you answer without a beat and that tells him how much you trust him.

"Do you trust me enough to experiment with me?"

"With you?" You ask in confirmation.

"Yes."

"I don't know..." you doubtfully answer, "I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"It won't. Trust me," he convinces you.

There's nothing to lose here and it's just an experiment, not a real thing. It's more relieving to know that he initiates the idea and you can trust him on that.

"Who knows you have a thing for a dad of one?" He jokingly says.

"Okay," you say with a nervous laugh.

"Okay," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently massaging it, "Now, relax."

Felix glides his hand up to the nape of your neck and continues massaging you there, his fingers softly scratching the back of your hair. It works to help you relax, your shoulders are no longer tense and your heart beats steadily.

"Now close your eyes," he speaks so low it's almost like a whisper.

You obey him without question and close your eyes, nothing happens until a moment later, you feel his lips against yours, soft meets soft, and together locked in a slow, sensuous kiss.

Felix skillfully pries your mouth open with his tongue and you willingly open it for him, letting him taste you more.

With the hand that stays on the nape of your neck, he can angle your head as he pleases, and that way he can deepen the kiss.

The quiet in the room only adds to the tension and you hold your breath, not wanting to change a thing about this moment, you want to keep it as long as you can and only let go when you start to feel faint from lack of oxygen in your lungs.

"And that's what a good kiss should be," he mutters.

Instead of feeling awkward, you feel funny and break into laughter, "Maybe I do have a thing for a dad of one," you joke back.

Hyunjin walks in on the two of you laughing on the sofa together and both of you immediately quiet down which gives the impression that he interrupted something.

"What's going on?" He asks, taking his suit jacket off and folding it neatly in his arm.

"Nothing," you shortly answer.

"I taught her how to kiss," Felix blurts out.

"Oh," Hyunjin says, but he doesn't seem as surprised as you think he would be, "Are you sure you taught her well?"

Hyunjin's unexpected reaction to it makes you wonder if he knows that it's true and he doesn't mind any of it. Or maybe you should feel relieved that he doesn't mind that his husband kissed the babysitter.

"Hey, why don't you stay over?" Felix suggests out of the blue.

The plan is to leave once Hyunjin is already home, you grab your phone and get up from the sofa, "Oh, no, I'll just—"

"You're staying over and I'm getting us drinks," Felix insists, pushing you to sit back down on the sofa.

"I'll help," you offer, getting the glasses from the cabinet while Felix is getting the liquor.

You return to the living room while clutching the glasses close to your chest, finding Hyunjin grabbing the knot of his tie and loosening it around the collar before pulling it hard, seamlessly taking it off at once.

"You don't know how to kiss, huh?" He says with a smirk, undoing the cuffs of his shirt before rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

"I know how to kiss," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

Felix places a sealed bottle of liquor and a bowl of ice on the table along with a sealed bottle of liquor, "I showed her how a good kiss should be," he says.

Hyunjin sits on the sofa and grabs the bottle of liquor to uncap it, "Show it to me then."

You snort thinking that he's joking and Felix shifts the attention to the drinks, "Let's have some drinks first!"

Felix drops an ice cube into each glass while Hyunjin carefully pours the liquor to fill all three glasses without spilling a drop.

However, on the third round of drinks, Felix holds his hand out at you, "Come on!"

You glance up and look at him in confusion, "Huh?"

"Time to put it to practice," he says, holding his hand farther at you.

You awkwardly place your hand in his and let him help you get up from the sofa, he pulls you so hard that you bump into him.

Felix is quick enough to catch you with his arm around your waist, "do you trust me?"

"To do what?"

He dramatically rolls his eyes at you and asks you again, "Do you trust me?"

In a way that he has no intention to harm you mentally or physically and you feel safe enough to do almost anything then the answer is yes.

"Yes," you reply.

Felix nods as he takes your answer, he holds you close and puts his hand on your jaw, "Just follow my lead, okay?"

You don't know what he's going to do but you nod anyway, "Okay."

He leans in and kisses you, a little harder than the previous one. With the hand steadily holding your jaw, he can easily part your mouth open by pulling your chin down and that way, he can deepen the kiss.

One thing that you have to admit is that Felix is a good kisser, his kiss contains all sorts of things, it's hot and wet, gentle yet intense at times.

He has thing thing that he does with his tongue, he likes to twirl it around yours before tugging it between his teeth. The moment he lets go, you're running out of breath.

"Good, right?" Felix asks.

You innocently nod, "Yeah."

"Now, you do it to me," he says, asking you to practice it on him.

You take another moment to take a breath before leaning in and kissing him, doing exactly what he did to you earlier. It might not be perfect but you're trying your best to impress him.

As you're busy kissing him, Felix takes your hands and places them on him, one on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. He then puts his arms around you and pulls you closer until there's no inches of space left between your bodies.

Feeling left out, Hyunjin gets up from his seat and stands behind you. You're not aware of his presence until you feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Guys, let me in on the fun," he mutters, planting his mouth on your neck.

What in the world is this? This should only exist in your wild fantasies. You have to actively tell your brain that it's real and it's happening right now.

Felix breaks the kiss only for Hyunjin to take his turn, turning you the other way and pressing a ķiss on you. His lips are softer than you imagined, kissing him feels like you're kissing the clouds.

Felix's hands are making their way to the front of your blouse, undoing the buttons, and then taking it off you, exposing your upper half body to the cool night air.

As if Hyunjin kissing you isn't enough, Felix puts your hair to the side so he can place searing kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. He swiftly snaps your bra open with one hand then pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

Aware that your breasts are freed from their confines, Hyunjin glides his mouth down to your neck while Felix is cupping them in his hands, fingers lightly rubbing on the blossoming buds.

"Oh, they're perfect..." Hyunjin sighs in awe, licking his already wet lips.

He slightly bends down to be able to put his mouth on your breast with Felix holding it up for him, you gulp air as you watch him using his tongue to play with your nipple.

A moan escapes your mouth as Felix pushes your breasts to the middle which allows Hyunjin to take them both in his greedy mouth at once.

After a while, Hyunjin helps himself by holding them up himself. Felix lets go of you to take off his sweater, he then takes your arm to drape it around his neck.

"You're so soft, bub," he whispers into your ear.

You can feel his warm skin against your back and the outline of his abs as your hand aimlessly groping around his body.

Hyunjin detaches his mouth off your breast and he reaches past your shoulder to kiss Felix, making you caught in between them.

This is the first time you don't mind third-wheeling them, you look at how their lips are locked in a passionate kiss and feel jealous of it.

"Come here, babe," Hyunjin says, pulling you in and making you a part of that kiss.

You get to the point that you can't tell whose lips are you kissing, it's one, endless kiss, soft on soft on soft.

Felix manages to take Hyunjin's shirt off and gets it out of the way, it's at a time like this that you feel the need to step out to understand the situation you're in.

They're different but beautiful at the same time, one offers different charms than the other but they're as attractive in your eyes. Your eyes are having a feast as you look at their sculpted bodies like looking at two Greek gods and it indeed feels a little unreal.

"Let's spice things up," Felix comes up with a wild idea and it involves pushing Hyunjin onto the sofa.

Unsure of what to do, you follow Felix's lead, sitting on the carpeted floor as he parts his legs open and Felix starts to unzip his fly open. He doesn't waste time pulling his erection of out its confine and lets it spring free.

They're maintaining eye contact as Felix pumps his length in his hand and then he turns to you, taking your hand and wrapping it around Hyunjin's cock.

Hyunjin's cock is all about the length but that doesn't mean the girth isn't impressive, the pink tip is as luscious as his full lips, making you want to have a lick at it.

As if he reads through your head, Felix asks, "Want to try and take it in your mouth?"

Not really wanting the whole thing in your mouth, mostly because you doubt you can take it well but since he offered, you nod in answer.

"Want me to show it how?" He offers again.

And you nod again.

Felix licks his lips before starting, slightly tilting his head down and then licking the tip until it's wet. He takes a couple of inches into his mouth, adjusting himself to the size to finally take more of Hyunjin's length, and the next thing you know, he takes all of him in his mouth.

You don't know how he does that with his small mouth and without gagging, you keep gulping your air as you're watching him.

On the other hand, Hyunjin softly scratches Felix's head and lowly mutters, "Just like that, baby."

Felix gasps when he pulls away, a string of saliva connected his lips with the tip of Hyunjin's cock.

"Want to go for it?" he asks, scooting to the back to make room for you.

You like how they do not pressure you to do anything you don't want to and it creates a safe space, making you feel comfortable enough to continue.

To begin, you take a deep breath and let it out. Then you follow what Felix has shown you, licking the tip just like you wanted to and then slowly, taking him into your mouth.

Felix observes from the back, he gathers your hair in his hands and makes a makeshift ponytail on the back of your head.

"Oh, you're taking me so well," Hyunjin coos, can't stop looking at how his cock slides in and out of your mouth.

When you deem you have adjusted yourself to his size, you dare yourself to take more only to have it hit on your uvula and you immediately pull back.

"Slowly, bub, slowly," Felix softly mutters to your ear.

You reorganize your breath and try again, taking it slow as Felix instructed, only taking it as far as you can.

"You can use your hand," Felix suggests, putting your hand on the base of Hyunjin's cock to compensate for the rest you can't take in your mouth.

You sync the movement of your mouth and you can hear Hyunjin lowly moaning in response to the stimulations.

"Like that, yes," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his head in back, completely overwhelmed by what you're doing to him.

Seeing that encourages you to keep going without forgetting to breathe and relax.

"Good girl," Felix praises with a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

He lets you have it for another moment before stopping you, he holds your shoulder and says, "Want to do it together?"

Unable to give a verbal answer, you nod in answer.

You and Felix, each take a side and then stick your tongue out to run it up and down Hyunjin's cock. At times, you both go in the same direction, your tongues twirled around his cock and alternating between sucking and licking.

Oh, to be Hyunjin and blessed with the view of you and Felix, both of your mouths lathering around his cock. He's truly enjoying it, he tangles his hands in your heads and gently tugging at it.

"Oh, so good, so fucking good..." Hyunjin breathlessly murmurs.

Eventually, both of your lips meet on the tip and Felix pulls you for a kiss, he holds you by the neck, smiling as he kisses you.

"You're a fast learner," he praises you.

You shyly smile and mutter, "Thank you!"

He brushes your hair to the side, also removing the hair stuck to your lips then tucks it behind your ear. He leans in to place kisses along your jaw and continues the trail to your lips.

Felix gets up from the floor to sit on the sofa, he looks at you and says, "Come sit on my lap!"

You do what he asked, sitting on his lap and slowly resting your back against his chest. Felix smiles as he wraps his arms around you, his hands caress your skin with so much gentleness. You take the initiative, tilting his head so you can kiss him as he touches you all over.

Another pair of hands join in, Hyunjin's long fingers tugging at the waistband of your jeans as he plans to take your jeans off. Once he pops the button open, he slowly pulls them down and you're shivering as his fingertips graze your skin.

You feel exposed as you're only wearing your plain white underwear and Hyunjin's head is between your legs, hanging not far from your heating core.

"Relax, bub," Felix coos as he glides his hand down until it lands on your clothed sex, his dainty finger skillfully finds your bundle of nerves through the fabric and circles on it.

You're squirming against him and can't hold yourself back from moaning as he applies just the right pressure on it, making you drenched down there.

Felix puts his hand to cup your sex and rubs his fingers in between your folds, "Let's take this off, mmh?"

Hyunjin volunteers to do it for you, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear and Felix makes you hold your legs up so he can easily take it off of you.

Even after the underwear is off, Felix steadily holds your legs by the back of your knees and then parts your legs open, making you feel more exposed than before.

Felix presses a haste kiss on your jaw and says, "Hyunjin will take good care of you now."

Your attention is shifted to the man kissing down your inner thigh, you're squirming as his mouth inches closer to your wetness and when it finally makes contact, you sharply gasp.

If it weren't for Felix's hands steadily keeping your legs open, you would have clamped Hyunjin's head in between. The sight of his red, plush lips on your cunt is enough to arouse you, but now he's using his tongue, running it up and down your slit. He teases your hole with his finger before replacing it with his tongue.

"Oh, fu—" You press your lips together to stop yourself from finishing your curse.

Felix lets go of your leg so he can put his hand in Hyunjin's hair and pushes his head deeper into your wetness while Hyunjin is intensely staring back at him.

"You're doing good, darling," he says to him.

Hyunjin smiles in response to his words, he draws back to take a breath and opens his mouth wider to take more of you.

"Touch yourself," Felix says, taking your hands in his and he makes you cup your own breasts in your hands, kneading them together with him.

"Feel so good, right?" He murmurs, his breath tickling your ear.

You're overwhelmed, your legs are spasming at how intense it gets and the knot inside you tightening, you feel like imploding. You've never experienced these feelings before until now and you don't know how to handle it.

Hyunjin retracts his mouth, showing his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. He lands a lick between your folds and slowly, inserts his finger into you.

"Oh..." you moan, gripping Felix's forearm so hard your nails dug into the flesh.

Hyunjin smirks as he stares up at you while pumping his finger in and out of you. A while later, he pulls it out only to add another digit and now two of his long, slim fingers are inside you.

"The way you're sucking my fingers in..." he sighs, planting his mouth on your clit to tease it with his tongue and suck on it.

As if that isn't enough for him, he curls his fingers and he touches you right on the spot that makes you loudly moan. You can tell that Felix is looking at the baby monitor to check on Aster which reminds you to keep yourself quiet. But it's so hard as Hyunjin incessantly sucking on your clit with his fingers repeatedly hitting on your spot.

When Hyunjin pulls away, you can finally breathe out and relax, far too relaxed that you feel weak on the legs. Felix has to move you like you were a rag doll, he's laying you down on the sofa and then he lays next to you.

"Are you okay, bub?" He asks you with a gentle caress on your cheek.

Other than can't feel your legs? You nod, "I'm okay."

Felix softly smiles and plants his lips on yours again, making you a little less conscious and less insecure with yourself. You allow yourself to do as you please, touching his body and boldly putting your hand in his pants. You pull his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free and put your hand around it, slowly stroking it.

"Fast learner," he murmurs against your lips.

You triumphantly smile in response, opening your mouth for him so he can deepen the kiss.

The sofa isn't big enough to fit three people and Hyunjin ends up hovering above you, placing kisses on your neck and chest.

Felix's hand parts your legs open and he doesn't waste time touching you there again, rubbing on your clit as he kisses you.

The second Felix breaks the kiss, Hyunjin takes his turn. He lowers his mouth on you, hastily kissing you on the lips and then on the skin under your ear.

"Want to be inside you," he whispers.

He cups your jaw and looks at you with a piercing gaze, "Can I?"

The first thing you do is look at Felix to seek his permission first. Instead of doing that, he asks the same thing to you.

"Will you let Hyunjin do it, bub?"

It's too late to back out now, isn't it? Honestly, you've been wondering what it feels like to have something beautiful like what they have and now, you get the chance to experience that.

You swallow air and nod, but you know they need the consent to be uttered verbally, "Yes."

Rather than going right into it, Hyunjin and Felix work together to place kisses all over you, you believe they're trying to make you relax and it works, you feel less nervous with every searing kiss they plant on your skin.

Felix puts your leg over his body, exposing your gushing hole to Hyunjin and he stares at it while stroking his cock in his hand, so hard and veiny, pulsating with so much desire.

"You're so wet, bub," Felix hums as he lightly caresses your inner thighs with his fingertips.

Getting impatient, Hyunjin rubs his length in between your folds, lubricating it with your arousal. Felix helps to smear it all over his length and gives it a few pumps.

"And you're so hard, my love," he says to Hyunjin which he immediately responds with a haste kiss on his lips.

"You have to wait for your turn," Hyunjin says, leaving another peck on his lips before shifting his attention back to you.

Hyunjin tenderly kisses your lips and holds your chin as he says, "I'm going in, yeah?"

With one hand resting on your abdomen, he aims his cock toward your entrance and slowly pushes it in. Felix props his elbow against the sofa to be able to see how Hyunjin's cock disappeared into you little by little.

Oh, he stretches you out and fills you in immediately, you look down and he's not fully in yet.

"Just a little bit more, bub," Felix mutters to you, placing soothing rubs on your inner thigh.

"So tight," Hyunjin says through his gritted teeth, also overwhelmed by being inside you.

Hyunjin pulls back to slowly push it back inside you deeper than before. The slightest of movement and you can feel his whole length inside you.

"Oh! Oh, my—" you muffle yourself by pressing your lips together.

"You take him so well, bub," Felix coos, removing the hair covering your face then kisses you.

Hyunjin gives it a moment to adjust to each other, he rubs your abdomen and places a tender kiss on your sternum, "You feel so good around me," He murmurs, his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

Felix gives Hyunjin's hair a ruffle and pulls him for a kiss, then together they place kisses on each side of your face. He turns your head to the side and captures your lips in a kiss as Hyunjin starts moving.

He starts slow and keeps a steady pace, he maintains eye contact with you if he isn't looking down at the way his cock slips in and out of you.

"Do I feel good?" Hyunjin asks in a soft tone and a soft gaze.

"Uh-huh," you answer between your moans.

Hyunjin smiles and he remains steadily thrusting into you, but adding more intensity to it, the skin slapping sound grows louder and echoes in the living room.

Felix buries his mouth in your neck while his hand goes down south, giving you extra stimulation by playing with your clit.

"Please, please..." you beg.

"Please, what?" Hyunjin asks with a faint smirk on his face.

You don't know why you plead in the first place but it's getting so overwhelming, you don't know how you can take this much and your brain is still able to function.

"Please..." you pathetically plead again.

Hyunjin pauses for a second, he props his hands on each side of your waist to give him more leverage, and that way, he can add more depth and intensity to his thrust.

"You want to cum, mmh?"

You eagerly nod even though you're not sure if that's what you want but you know it's what you need.

"You hear the girl," Felix says, putting his hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "Give it to her, babe."

Hyunjin feels encouraged, he doesn't even need it at all, he's been thrusting into you non-stop, taking you closer and closer to your release. He brushes his hair to the back and adds speed to his thrusting.

You don't know that you've been crying until you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your moaning and crying, sometimes it's a mix of the two, feeling so overwhelmed that your brain is short-circuit.

"My goodness, oh," your voice is shaking from how hard Hyunjin thrusts into you.

"Don't hold your breath," Felix speaks right into your ear, his teeth faintly nibbling on your ear.

But you keep holding your breath because if you don't, you feel like you're about to completely lose it and combust.

"Please, please," you plead again because it's the only word your brain can compute.

Hyunjin thrusts even faster and harder, your body quakes along to his movements. Felix holds your hand as if he knows you need something to hold on to.

"Oh, oh..." your moans turn into broken cries.

"You're close, mmh?" Hyunjin manages to say as he puts all of him to get you to your release.

Your eyes are screwed shut and more tears rolling down your cheeks, you feel hot all over even though your body is covered with a thin layer of sweat.

"I can't– can't take it anymore," you stutter your words as you choke on air from constantly moaning and crying.

"Just let go, bub, let go," Felix murmurs.

You let out a choked sob and follow his words, letting yourself go even if it means you're going to explode into a million little pieces.

Two, three thrusts later, you hit your climax and everything suddenly turns white. You feel faint but at the same time, you feel this wave of electricity surging through you.

You're completely out of it until a moment later, you open your eyes to find Hyunjin rushing to pull out of you. He then holds his cock in his hand, pumping it as fast as he could until the white of his seed spurts out of him.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he sighs while keeps pumping his cock.

Felix gasps in awe watching Hyunjin make white streaks all over your chest and stomach with his seed, glistening and feeling hot on your skin.

"Oh, look at that!" He looks at Hyunjin and says, "You cum a lot, honey."

Hyunjin stops pumping his cock once he deems he's done releasing his load. He tilts his head to the back and lets out a broken yet satisfied moan.

"Gosh! That was so fucking good," he says, placing a haste kiss on your parted mouth.

Felix uses his finger to take a swab of Hyunjin's cum and have a taste of it, he smiles as if he's just tasted something as sweet as honey. Guessing that you're curious about it too, he takes another swab at it and shoves it into your mouth.

"Isn't Hyunjin taste so sweet?" He asks.

You're too fucked out to respond and Felix notices it too, he lands a sweet kiss on your lips and jaw, then says, "It's okay, we'll take care of you."

You want to stay awake but you can barely keep your eyes open anymore, you're in and out of it for quite some time. You open your eyes and see Felix licking Hyunjin's cum off of you. You close your eyes and when you open them later, you find Hyunjin and Felix, both naked and kissing each other. The next time you open your eyes, you find Felix hovering above you while Hyunjin is thrusting into him from the back.

The last thing you remember is someone putting clothes on you and after that, it's all black.

-

This is embarrassing. You wake up in the guest room wearing Felix's sweater and short pants which means someone must have put those clothes on you and then carried you to the guest room so you can comfortably sleep on the bed.

What's more embarrassing is you'll meet them whether you like it or not because it's their house.

You get off the bed and find your pile of clothes on the chair, even more embarrassing that you have to meet them wearing their clothes.

This why they called it a walk of shame and you're stupid to ever think that it would never happen to you.

Out of the guest room, you head straight to the kitchen because it's easier to face one of them first and Felix is always in the kitchen.

Felix is mysteriously looking glowing and radiant like usual, it's like he didn't drink the same amount of alcohol to you or got in a threesome last night.

He turns around and immediately notices you coming, "Good morning, bub!"

Unlike him, you're aware that you must have looked swollen and terrifying so you cup your face with both hands.

"Morning," you croak.

He turns around again to grab a glass and fills it with orange juice, then serves it to you, "How are you feeling?"

You shyly chuckle and say, "Tired."

"Reasonable," Felix comments. He gasps as if he gets reminded of something, he pulls open the kitchen drawer and takes out something.

"You might want to take this," he says, putting a Morning After pill for you.

It's endearing that he pays more attention to such things than yourself. You rip it open with your fingers and waste no time to take it.

"Thank you," you mutter as you wash it down with orange juice.

"It's not time for Aster to have a sibling yet," Felix jokingly says.

It's actually nice that he treats you like any other normal day, you were really afraid that what happened last night would make things awkward between you and him but turns out, it was all in your head.

But you don't know for sure since you've only met Felix and—

"I heard Aster is getting a sibling?" Hyunjin says from the top of the stairs, all dressed for work and carrying Aster on his shoulders.

"Haha you guys are so funny," you say with dry laughs.

How is it fair that you're the only one looking like shit this morning?

"Airplane!" Aster shouts while patting Hyunjin's head with his tiny hands.

Hyunjin grabs his hands and stretches them out, swaying them left to right like an airplane. Aster is giggling as Hyunjin jumps onto the base of the stairs.

"Time for breakfast, sweet boy," Felix says, ordering Aster to sit in his baby chair.

Hyunjin tilts his head to look at his little one, "Time's up, little buddy."

Aster giggles and plants his mouth on Hyunjin's head to place a kiss, "Oh, thank you, sweetheart."

He then carefully takes him down from his shoulders and sits him in his baby chair.

"Aster's favorites for breakfast," Felix says as he serves his plate in front of him.

"Blueberries," Aster mumbles with drooĺ dribbling down the corner of his mouth.

"And yogurt," Felix adds, putting the small spoon on his plate.

"Thank you, dada," he mumbles with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed.

"For you, scrambled egg and toast and bacon," Felix says, putting your plate of breakfast.

"Thank you," you mutter.

"And for my breakfast?" Hyunjin asks as he walks over to him and pulls him into a hug.

Felix smiles as he puts his arms around him and affectionately kisses him on the lips. He pulls away but Hyunjin presses another kiss on him, longer and lingering.

Them making you feel like you're third-wheeling again means things are alright and it's a relief to know that what happened last night doesn't change anything about them or worse, ruin what they have. You know you can't forgive yourself if what you did would ruin this very beautiful, precious thing of theirs.

"I can't stay for breakfast," Hyunjin says.

Felix stops him from turning away, he tugs at the collar of his shirt and fixes his tie for him, "Are we still on for a date night?"

"I should take a raincheck on that," Hyunjin answers, tilting his head upward as Felix tightens the knot of his tie.

"That's okay. We can do it next week," Felix says, now flattening the lapels of Hyunjin's suit jacket.

"Invite Bubba on our next date night," Hyunjin suggests a wild idea, flashing his sly smirk at you.

"And we'd get a sibling for Aster," he jokingly adds.

You roll your eyes at him and fill your mouth with food.

Once he's done, Felix lets him go and hands him his cup of coffee, "well, I want a baby girl," he also piles in on the joke.

"We can arrange that," Hyunjin says, smirking as he sips his coffee.

Can't say you agree to get Aster a sibling but you feel good knowing that your presence doesn't feel like a threat to them, if anything, they make you feel like you're a part of them.

"I have to go," Hyunjin says, taking another sip of his coffee before putting it down on the kitchen counter. He runs to get his briefcase and walks back to the kitchen to kiss his husband.

"Have a great day at work," Felix says after placing a peck on Hyunjin's lips.

Hyunjin sweetly kisses him on the cheek and whispers, "Love you."

Felix hugs him with such love and says back, "I love you."

Oh, they're disgustingly in love with each other, you can't decide if you get the urge to vomit from watching them or you're merely filled with so much jealousy.

Hyunjin walks up to Aster and plants a long kiss on the top of his head, "Daddy has to go to work, okay?"

Aster reaches for him and adorably places a kiss on Hyunjin's cheek, "Buhbye," he says while waving his hand at him.

"Be good, my sweet angel," he says for the last time with an endearing pat on the head.

As for you, he places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it, "Have a great day, bub," he says.

"You too, Mr. Hwang," you shorty respond while chewing your food.

"It's Hyunjin," he says with a fed-up tone.

"You too, it's Hyunjin," you say with a sly grin.

Hyunjin ignores you and takes another look at Felix, staring at him with wistful eyes as if he's reluctant to go to work, and then waves bye at him.

A moment after Hyunjin leaves, Felix notices that Hyunjin left his car keys on the kitchen island.

"Honey, you're forgetting something," Felix shouts as Hyunjin hasn't gone out of the house.

You can hear his rushed footsteps and he returns to the kitchen, unexpectedly kissing Felix on the cheek.

"I'm going now," he says with a smile, thinking that the thing he forgot is kissing him bye.

"Honey!" Felix groans while laughing and you also burst out laughing from witnessing it.

"What?" Hyunjin asks in utter confusion.

Felix lifts the car keys and shows it to him, "You forgot your car keys."

"Oh?" He gasps with his mouth forming a perfect O shape, he innocently takes the keys out of Felix's hand and uses it as an excuse to kiss him again.

It's hard to not get jealous of them because you see, if there's one thing that makes you believe in love, it's them.

-

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araneae 🕸️ k.sy (teaser)

🕸️ synopsis: when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues. 🕸️ genre: friends with benefits au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers because it's the only trope ever ; ta x student dynamics ; fluff, angst & eventual smut (surprise?) 🕸️ pairing: zoology ta!kwon soonyoung x marine biology major!reader | side pairings: joshua hong x sana minatozaki ; vernon chwe x roh jisun (fromis_9) ; mentions of reader x yuta nakamoto (nct) 🕸️ word count: 2.8k | full fic: i don't fuckin' know but hopefully under 20k. 🕸️ rating: 18+. minors do not interact i beg. 🕸️ warnings: mentions of knife play (none involved), alcohol, mentions of protected sex (dw it'll get freaky later), mentions of cum, loss of virginity talk, mentions of marijuana (stoner!hoshi be off the honeypacks!!), they're naked for most of this snippet. a lot of parties later in the fic, just wait LOL. 🕸️ what to listen to: good kisser - usher ; magic stick - lil' kim ; more to come.

LAST YEAR – Sunday, October 23.

You were never opposed to a nice Halloween party. Lots of thematic drinks, stupid boys dressed as Ghostface trying to explore knife kinks, and girls going all out with their glitter make-up and tinsel in their hair for the optimal fairy costume. 

You loved a good Halloween party, music blasting out of the speakers that were stolen from the AV Club by the softer version of the Beta Tau Omega brothers. Dancing with strangers in sweat-soaked facades, and waking up with smeared face paint all over your neck and shoulders from whatever disguised hook-up you'd taken home that night.

Last night's rager had to have been one for the books, because you have no idea how you ended up in this absolute mess of a bedroom – owned by none other than your close friend, Kwon Soonyoung. The same Kwon Soonyoung who also happens to TA the class you've put off taking for the last two years, and are set to start taking the upcoming spring semester.

The same Kwon Soonyoung that was related to the wife of the Dean, and the same Kwon Soonyoung that showed up everywhere stoned or ready to get stoned. The very same Kwon Soonyoung that made infused pre-rolls and edibles for nearly the entire campus…for free. Even you could see that was a horrible business call, and you were a Science major.

Soonyoung who helped people sneak kittens into their dorm rooms and make homes for them under lofted beds. Soonyoung, who taught a dance class and self-defense class back to back, so he was never free until after nine at night. Soonyoung who made hanging out seem like he was trying to get into your pants because he was just naturally flirtatious (and somehow, still absolutely bitchless.)

Soonyoung who you've kissed twice since meeting him two years ago, both times at Halloween parties hosted by his stupid fraternity. Soonyoung, who has had his hand up your skirt twice before someone interrupts you by asking if he has any weed at hand. He always does, and it's always in his car or his bedroom. He always goes, and a part of you, no matter how into it you may be, knows it's for the best. He keeps his circle small, of friends that is. You were added to the mix sometime after your first Halloween party (and first kiss together) your  freshman year, when he slammed into you in the middle of the economics hallway, breaking your laptop in the process. He'd felt so bad he took you to Best Buy that same night and shelled out two grand for a new one and even invited you out to lunch the next day.

He did not remember making out at all. To be fair, neither did you until the digital photos came back and he texted you a picture of the two of you kissing against the Beta Tau insignia on the wall. You were so embarrassed you avoided him for a week after, but he quickly forced you out of your dorm for a movie night. The two of you became fast friends, bonding over silly little things and enjoying each other's company – but it didn't stop the rumors from flying that you were a freshman stealing a guy from the sophomores. 

You remember that he adamantly denied any and every dating rumor flung your way, and even went as far as distancing himself from you for a bit – but when you tried to pull the same move he had earlier that year, he said maybe it was best for the two of you to remain friends from a distance. You didn't speak to him for the rest of the year, choosing to spend your time with friends your age and even dating a transfer student named Yuta Nakamoto, who was also in Soonyoung's year.

When word got around, Soonyoung was pissed – but didn't attempt to rekindle your friendship. He still followed you on Instagram, and still felt a bit of anger puddle in his stomach as he liked photo after photo of the two of you together, biting his tongue at the empty smile you held by his side.

This continued well into summer, and he saw the two of you take a trip to Jeju Island together, before breaking up the following week. Soonyoung heard from your friend, Nagyung, that he was transferring back and neither of you wanted to try long-distance. 

The following school year, he watched as you got recruited by sorority after sorority – eventually joining his frat's sister sorority, Alpha Sigma Delta. You hardly had to rush, the girls actively pushing you to pledge and you were far too nice to say no. 

You saw him again for the first time at the Halloween party planning, when you and your fellow pledges were tasked with helping the frat pledges in hauling in liquor. You weren't very happy about it, but Soonyoung whisked you away without a word from you, telling everyone that he needed your help with a certain task.

That task? "Can we talk?"

And you did. You talked, and talked, and talked. He even left at one point to get drinks for the two of you, returning to you fishing through his bag of pre-rolls for the ones infused with lemon balm. He smiled, telling you they were in his car, and you rolled your eyes at it.

You kissed at that party, too. It went further this time – the two of you on Seungcheol's balcony. The idea had been to go up to the roof and get crossed, but it seems a rather tipsy Soonyoung had other ideas. You didn't mind it, in fact you encouraged it – you slipped his hand up your latex dress, you let him slip your panties down your legs. "Hey, Hoshi! Do you have any pre-rolls?!" 

Just as he'd started undoing his pants.

"Fuck, I'm sorry baby."

"It's fine."

You passed out in his bedroom that time, too tired to go back to the sorority house with your sisters. You got out of clean-up, and Soonyoung left you a kimbap roll and an electrolyte drink on his nightstand, with a note asking how you got there 'haha.' 

It hadn't been fine. Again, neither of you remembered this happening until digitals were printed. And it was freshman year all over again – except this time, Soonyoung stuck around. Soonyoung defended you tooth and nail, and even dropped a few of his friends that bad-mouthed you. When you asked him about it, he shrugged, "Nothing wrong with kissing your friends every once in a while." So, here you are. Again.

The third year in a row you and your stupid friend have made out, and somehow, you're in his bed. There's no other explanation as for why your underwear is across the room, hanging off his lamp and why his head is gently laying on your chest. There's literally no other explanation.

"Soonyoung." You rasp, patting his cheek. He doesn't stir, but pouts into your bare breast. "Soonyoung." You speak louder, shaking him slightly as he peels open one of his eyes. 

"Yeah?" It takes him a moment to realize that it's you, sprinkled with glitter from his eye look last night and practically doused in his saliva.

"Oh, fuck." He just furrows his brows, rolling off your chest with a groan. He sits up at the edge of the bed, surveying the room before realizing he's got no pants on. "Son of a bitch. Did we…Yup. Yup, it's right there." His painted fingernails point at the discarded condom atop his dresser, flung hastily in a half-asleep attempt, most likely. You sigh, letting your head fall back on your pillow with a hmph. He does the same, his fingers only reaching up slightly to close the blinds with a jerk of the liftcord.

"You think it was good?" You ask with a small smile, and he snorts. "It was with you, I doubt it would've been bad."

Silence permeates the air again, before he sees your bare bottom half also covered in glitter. You have a tattoo on your hip that you didn't have when you first met. It's a stick-and-poke kitten. "Nice tattoo." "Thanks, I got it on Jeju Island." "When you and Yuta went?" "Yup." "Cool." He sits up, peering down at you with tired eyes. "What'd you see in that guy, anyway?"

"Hm?" "Yuta." "Oh. You want the truth?" It's like being nude in front of each other isn't a big deal. It's like having slept together after years of being in limbo means nothing. It's all so normal, the way you allow him to practically eye fuck you.

"I was sad you stopped being my friend." He blinks at you, watching the way you carefully pick at a thread loose in his comforter. You pull it out, discarding it behind you with a soft smile. "Does that answer your question?" "You fucked another guy because I stopped being your friend?" He asks incredulously, and you shrug. "Not just, but it was a large reason."

"You lost your virginity to him." His eyes are wide, and you shrug once more, nodding your head. "Yup." "Did he make you cum?" "Soonyoung-" "Did he?"

You sigh, patting his comforter. "Not the first couple of times, no. He got better at it, though. It was decent." 

Nodding, he clears his throat.

"Do you think I-" "Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember much, just the Pink Whitney Mingyu gave me." "Mingyu does love his Pink Whitney." You flip onto your back again, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Tucking your hands behind your head, you speak again. "Do you think I went down on you?" "There's lipstick on my tip." "What color?" "Uhh…wine red." You wipe a finger across your bottom lip, the small amount of residue a bloody, Cabernet red. "Hm. Checks out."

The air feels…comfortable.

"Wanna shower?" "Yeah." "Can I shower with you?" "Yeah, Soonie."

The two of you stretch simultaneously, before rolling to the side of the bed and standing up. He grabs the discarded condom off the dresser, holding it like a used tissue and taking it to the bin. You dig through his dresser for a towel, and he fishes out something for you to wear.

"Boxers okay?" "Hm, I prefer briefs." "On me or on you?" "Your underwear choices are your business." He holds up a pair of Spiderman briefs. You bite back your laugh and nod silently, extending your hand for them.

He disappears into his bathroom, flickering lights on and turning the shower head on. "Hot?" "Boiling." "Got it."

The both of you get in, and you close your eyes as the water pelts your back. Soonyoung says nothing as he moves your hair off your shoulders and away from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You should've asked me." He mumbles, reaching for the shampoo in the caddy behind you. Peeling your eyes open, you look up at him with a confused stare. "Asked you for what?" He shrugs, holding the shampoo bottle upside down over his hand and squirting some out. "I would've made you cum the first time." You snort, shoving his chest lightly. "Yeah, well…you didn't. It's fine." "This isn't weird to you?" "What? Showering together?" "After fucking, yeah." "Could be worse." "How?" "I could be that girl you've been flirting with since last year, wondering when you're going to text her back." "Who? Yujin?" "Yeah." "I'm not flirting with her, what made you think that?" "Stolen glances, flirty touches, you give her pre-rolls all the time." He rolls his eyes as he cards his fingers through your hair, his dull nails scrubbing your scalp gently. Your eyes flutter shut, and he huffs. "I give everyone pre-rolls." "Because you're a horrible business magnate." 

"No, because I'm nice." You smile without opening your eyes, your hands reaching out to touch his chest. His body feels good under your fingertips, you realize. "Are you mad you don't remember any of it?" "Furious." He mutters, gently tilting your head back to wash the soap out. You can't see the way he's looking at the sweet slope of your neck, just barely making out small nips of his teeth across your throat. Your necklace hangs nicely. The rest of the shower remains silent, as he carefully washes you before himself. His attention to detail is insane, the way his fingers hold the washcloth taut so he can feel every inch of you. He has to commit this to memory.

After, you're drying your hair with a random t-shirt he gave you. He remembers you told him that towels can be too rough for your hair texture sometimes. It's only when you're brushing your teeth with a brand new toothbrush he pulled from his cabinets that he speaks. "Let me change my bedsheets." "Don't wanna lay in the sin of fucking your friend, do ya?" The navy blue sheets are quickly replaced by ones with light grey ditsy floral print, and his comforter is shoved off and replaced by a few throw blankets. He watches as you change his pillowcases, only looking away when he hears his phone ping.

Msg From: Cheol [9:32am] hosh [9:32am] who is the girl in ur room and is she missing a pair of cat ears

"What was your costume last night?" He asks, and you snort. "I was a sexy witch." He smiles to himself as he picks up his phone.

Msg To: Cheol [9:33am] not missing a pair of cat ears [9:34am] and it's y/n

Your head snaps up when you hear a pair of feet thundering up the stairs, followed by silence. You give him an odd look, only to hear excited giggles down the hall and the pitter-patter of two adult men coming towards Soonyoung's room. You cross your arms as you hear the door creak open, an expectant look on your face as Jeonghan and Seungcheol's noses appear through the crack. "Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Jeonghan remarks sweetly, and you just roll your eyes.

"He wasn't bluffing." He whispers to Seungcheol, receiving an annoyed huff from Soonyoung. "If you're done intruding on my personal business, I'd appreciate it if you left. The pledges still need to clean up last night's mess." Jeonghan gives you a wry look. "Can I say something and you don't get upset?" "If it's about sex, I will punch you in that pretty face of yours." You say pointedly, fluffing the pillow in your hand before throwing it onto his bed. Jeonghan purses his lips, nodding before sliding out from under Seungcheol. He nods his head, a satisfied look on his face. "Have a good…don't fuck too loud, okay?" Soonyoung barely misses Seungcheol's face with the charger he throws across the room, his giggle being heard in the hallway as he barrels down the stairs.

"Idiots." He huffs, running a hand through his damp hair as you flop onto the bed. "You don't mind if I stay here a bit? My head's killing me."

He lays down next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You okay, Soonie?" Turning only his head, he scans your face. Tired eyes lined with thick lashes, plump lips covered by the Aquaphor in his bathroom. Slightly unkempt brows and your shoulder tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt on your frame.

"Kitty?" You grimace at the pet name, one he christened you with when the two of you met. He'd been dressed up as a cowboy, and dancing with a skeleton that was stolen from the comparative anatomy students (with the help of Junhui, of course.) He also had a lit joint between his fingers, one that sprinkled ash over your newly healed shoulder tattoo and made you yelp in pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry, kitty." He quickly put it out in a nearby ashtray, dusting your shoulder of any ash residue. "It's fine, it's fine. Just…can I get a hit?"

"Yeah?" He sits up, leaning against his bed frame before looking down at you.  "Would it be weird if I asked to try again?"

You glance up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "Try what again, exactly?"

He clears his throat, a beet red blush coating his cheeks. "You said Yuta didn't make you cum. And we don't know if I made you cum. So…can I have a redemption round?"

You've sat up at this point, a small laugh falling from your lips as you push your hair back, "You want to fuck me?"

"I can just go down on you, if, uh…if that's what you'd prefer." He stutters, mentally cursing himself. You glance at him, eyes scanning his face. "And we're still friends after this? You won't dump me?"

"I won't. I promise. Cross my heart, kitty." He holds his pinky finger out, insinuating you link yours. Sighing, you do just that. "Fine. Hop to, I want breakfast."

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