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jisungsdaydreamer · 9 months

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Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER TWO | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

THE MATCHMAKER MEETS HIS MATCH

“Ruin me, please.”

«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, brief mentions of virginity loss, heavy drinking, Hyunjin is delulu, heavy dom/sub dynamics: dom!reader, sub!Han Jisung (yes, there's Jisung smut in a Hyunjin story SUE ME), degradation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, drunk sex (both are consenting parties), semi-public sex (?) Word Count: 15.1k

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“And now, here’s what we really want to ask you, Dr. Hwang: are you single?”

The interviewer swivels her head to look at Hyunjin, her Botox-enhanced mouth spreading into a wide, magenta-lipsticked smile. Hyunjin barely registers her question, distracted by her disturbing resemblance to a vulture, with her beady eyes, hooked nose, and razor-sharp nails clutching a microphone like talons grasping prey. Her garish pea-green pantsuit and cat-eye glasses, combined with a frizzy blonde perm, remind him of that creepy reporter from Harry Potter, absolutely not helping his currently depleted Zen levels.

He can already feel a sweat breaking out on his neck, permeating his satin button-down and threatening to ruin the outfit he had chosen this morning. Usually, picking out what to wear is one of Hyunjin’s favorite parts of the entire day; breathing in the Coco Noir scent of his walk-in closet is like Hyunjin’s own expensive version of aromatherapy. Today, however, it felt like a chore; It took him forever to find the perfect accessories to tie everything together, before he finally settled on his new gold Cartier earrings and the matching Juste un Clou bracelet. Hyunjin knows he looks amazing in his tastefully vintage yet sleek ensemble. He looks every bit the title of a sexy savant, one that he so rightfully carries. He looks ready to slay an interview on California’s most popular talk-show, The L.A. View. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t feel it.

It could have been the coffee that he had hand-pressed for himself this morning, his usual brew of arabica beans imported from the misty slopes of Guatemala. But then again, the coffee brought a much-needed buzz that Hyunjin needed to drag himself out of bed, no matter how temporary. More likely, it was the margarita that he’d downed in the car that was sent to pick him up and bring him to the studio to tape the interview. Tequila always makes Hyunjin’s stomach turn. Or maybe—

“Dr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin snaps out of his reverie, plastering a charmingly mysterious smile onto his face. One, two, three… work that charm. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sharon?”

The audience oohs beneath the dimmed stage lighting, and Sharon turns red, a shade visible even under the lurid bronzer that’s caked onto her face. Hyunjin would really love to book Sharon an appointment at HWASA Skincare and Cosmetics, his go-to beauty consultant whenever he’s visiting Seoul. The founder and CEO, his old friend Hye-Jin, would personally host her just so that Hyunjin could be relieved of the horrible bout of trypophobia he’s getting right now, staring into Sharon’s cavernous pores.

“Oh, stop it!” Sharon giggles, clapping her hands together. “There definitely must be a lucky lady in your life. You’re the Love Doctor. And not to mention, but very handsome.”

Sharon winks over exaggeratedly at the camera, and Hyunjin has to hold himself back from cringing away when she palms his shoulder, eyeing him hungrily. He can’t blame her, of course; the sleeves of his shirt squeeze his arms in such a way that his toned biceps are shown off— thank you very much, Better Body Pilates. But he needs his personal space. Out of everything, he hates when people treat him like some sort of an animal at the zoo, petting and prodding at him. He sees himself as more of the Mona Lisa, a masterpiece to be marveled at, not touched. His Zen is important, after all.

Still, Hyunjin just shoots her a disarming smirk, crossing one Valentino-clad leg over the other. “The only lady in my life is Princess Diana. But I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

Both Sharon and the audience members aww, utterly captivated by Hyunjin when he pulls out a small Polaroid of his puppy from his breast pocket, holding it out so that the cameras can zoom in on it. As expected, his answer seems to have satisfied Sharon’s invasiveness, but beneath his beaming expression hides the building tension in his chest.

What Hyunjin said is the partial truth; he may not currently have a significant other, but did he have someone in mind, when romance is in question? Yes. Is said person completely off-limits? Also yes. And would his reputation be completely tarnished if that very classified information got out? Yes, yes, and yes.

“Thank you so much for sitting down with us, Dr. Hwang,” Sharon says, thrusting out her hand for Hyunjin to shake it. Ever the professional, he accepts it like a champ. “And that’s all for now, folks! Stay tuned to watch my little chat with Meghan Markle about her ex-royal lifestyle. The teapot is boiling!”

The cameras cut and Hyunjin quickly excuses himself, waving to all of the people wistfully gazing after him. He enters the little hallway behind the filming room and breaks into a run very unlike himself, practically having to swerve around crew members and stage equipment. As soon as he’s locked away inside his dressing room, Hyunjin slides off his patent leather loafers and falls back onto the couch.

It’s been exactly three months since he first set eyes on you, kickstarting his unsavory fantasies and therein, digging himself into an early grave. And maybe it would have been okay, because as a male, sometimes he’s inclined to think with his dick. It’s a biological reaction that he can’t control. But it’s not, though, because the constant image of you printed like a tattoo on his mind has been interfering with his life and sense of normalcy. It’s a feeling that’s only grown in magnitude, especially now that with your weekly sessions, you’ve rapidly blossomed into the strong, confident woman that he always knew you were. So it’s not the fact that he’s horny— well, not the only fact— it’s that he might have feelings for you. Feelings that could get him into trouble, bigtime.

And the list that you wrote for him a while back definitely didn’t help. Hyunjin sits up, reaching for his notepad that he left on the little coffee table in front of the couch. He leafs through the pages, before pulling out the small slip of paper that he saved. Reading over the words for what feels like the umpteenth time, Hyunjin involuntarily smiles to himself. This time, it’s genuine.

The first thing that I don’t absolutely hate about myself is my imagination. I’ve been restricting myself a lot, lately, because I hated the thought of coming up with new ideas just to never bring them to life. It’s probably my post-Jisung and ITEM Tech trauma. But I felt kind of inspired by our first meeting today. I have a lot of great ideas, and I think that one day, I have the potential to beat Jisung’s ass and make a better company than his.

My fucking patience. You know, you might think otherwise, because it may seem like I have the patience of a single mom at a birthday party. But today proved differently. My friend/coworker Minho and his wife invited me over for dinner, which would have been fine, except they’re one of the most disgustingly perfect couples ever. They can’t go two minutes without giving each other a sappy ass look or holding hands or singing a song or something. And then Minho’s wife asked me if I wanted some ice cream, like she and her man weren’t just all over each other a millisecond ago. I just smiled and nodded. You can say I have the patience of the saint, now.

I like how I’m perseverant. For example: this. I could have given up after the first two days and ditched this piece of paper. But I didn’t. I want to be better. I’m very perseverent. Okay, my hand hurts. I’m putting down the pen for today.

My resilience. For the billionth time in my life, my boss made me want to drive out of work and jump into a lake. Long story short, Mark Lee is the worst motherfucker to ever exist (well, after his bestie Park Jisung. My boss and ex-boyfriend are friends. FML). But after one of his daily rants about how I’m not up to mark for some random reason, I walked out of his office and into the office kitchen. I got a Sprite from the fridge, crushed the full can with my bare hands, and then proceeded to calmly clean up the spilled soda before going back to work. I deserve a medal for my healthy anger management technique of smashing things and then bouncing back like a friggin’ spring.

The only home cooked meals I can really stomach are the ones that Minho shares with me at work. You know, he’s really such a menace. When I moved into my current apartment, he got me a cutting board as a gift, knowing damn well I don’t cook. But nowadays, I’ve been slowly getting more comfortable in the kitchen. I still don’t think I trust myself in cooking, but I’m kind of a really good baker, I’m realizing. Today, I made brownies. I’m eating one right now, and I guess I don’t hate that.

I am very patient, Part 2. My dumbass cousin, Yeonjun, called me up to hang out. Knowing him, that means me buying him a crap ton of expensive food. And he’s pretty loaded, too. I think he just loves pissing me off. First, he wanted pizza. That would have been fine, if we hit Domino’s or something, but he made me take him to this ridiculously upscale restaurant downtown. Their damn pizzas had caviar and truffles on them! Like, what the fuck happened to good old pepperoni? And as if that wasn’t enough, he then started complaining that he wanted fucking dessert too. So he ordered this fruit charcuterie board that cost another fortune. On the way home, I had to get him an $8 boba because “the cheese made him thirsty.” His metabolism is amazing. I’m kind of jealous. But anyway, I’m practically Mother Teresa at this point, because dealing with Yeonjun is no easy task. He’s lucky I love him.

Fundamentally, I think I’m a good person. And I think I deserve to be happy. There. Seven things, seven days. I’m done now. See you tomorrow.

Hyunjin sighs, sliding the paper back into his book and setting it inside his little Prada bag. This tiny scrap of paper had him seeing stars, when he first read it in the office, in front of you. There’s just something about you that he couldn’t and still can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s how delightfully pugnacious you are, or that comically angry tone you approach the world with, no matter what. And he had to bite his tongue too, because there’s no way you came up with just seven things, not when Hyunjin felt like he could give a whole recitation on your very attractive qualities, just after meeting with you once. You’re unintentionally hilarious. Real. Tough. Inquisitive. Also, you’re simply the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

You’re like an impossible puzzle to him; all the pieces are there, and yet, he can’t seem to put you together. Or rather, he can’t seem to figure out how to get his own shit together and finish the damn puzzle. Because he’s oh-so down bad, and he knows it.

“Dr. Hwang? Are you in there?”

Hyunjin stands up immediately, locking away his daydreams about you and brushing off his trousers. He quickly smooths back his artfully slicked wolf cut and opens the door for Wonyoung to step inside with her trusty tablet. Momentarily, Hyunjin is sidetracked by her outfit, a stylish mini paired with a silky lilac bomber jacket— because where the fuck are those heels from— before he remembers himself.

“What’s up?” Hyunjin nonchalantly flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes, trying not to seem like he wasn’t just having a panic attack on that stupid couch just five seconds ago.

Wonyoung taps on the screen of the tablet for a few seconds, before looking up. “You have an appointment with your personal trainer in twenty minutes. You’re running late. And then at four, you need to get back to SeoulSpark for a meeting with a client. Here’s your change of clothes. I’ve already called a car for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Hyunjin accepts the gym bag, before jerking back in dreadful realization. “Wait. Which client do I have to meet with today?”

Wonyoung gives him a strange look. “Miss Y/L/N. Hey, are you alright, Dr. Hwang? You always stay on top of all of your engagements, but you haven’t been yourself lately.”

At the mere mention of your name, Hyunjin literally wishes he could melt into a puddle right then and there. Of course he hasn’t been himself, not when you waltzed into the office and wreaked havoc on his very humble life— for example, yesterday, he forgot to wear his Versace pajamas to sleep, and not his Fendi ones. Hyunjin knows that Saturdays are strictly for Versace; he promised Donatella years ago at the Met Gala. This is all your fault— how can it be poor Hyunjin’s, when he’s just a mere mortal cowering in your goddess-like presence?

“I- I’m okay, Wonyoung. I, uh, just ate some bad sushi.”

“You ate bad sushi every day for the past three months?” Wonyoung suspiciously raises an eyebrow at Hyunjin. She isn’t buying it, unfortunately.

“Uh-huh. It’s a terrible addiction that I’m trying to break. My raw seafood intake is off the charts. Guess I’m not perfect after all,” Hyunjin babbles, adding onto his already horrendous lie.

Wonyoung still doesn’t look convinced, but Hyunjin flounces out of the room before she can say anything else and uncover his deep, dark secret: you. Besides, his ride is waiting outside and his quads really need working.

“See you later, Changbin.” Hyunjin waves to his trainer as he grabs his belongings and exits the gym after a grueling workout. Usually, he prefers more low-impact routines, like aerial yoga or cycling around Marina del Rey. But because he’s been skimping out so much these days, Changbin made him do an endless round of jump squats before beating his ass in boxing.

Hyunjin presses his fingers to his aching back muscles, sore with both exhaustion and worry. The slim hands of his Rolex alert him to the fact that there is only one more hour before he must face you, and he is nowhere near ready. He’ll just have to skip the sauna today. Quickly, he gets into the car standing for him by the curb, slipping on his Gucci shades and sliding down below the window in the backseat, like a celebrity escaping a paparazzi cloud.

As soon as he gets back to Oasis, the opulent complex that houses his beloved penthouse, Hyunjin practically flies into his bathroom and locks the door. Without even bothering to set his eucalyptus shower steamer, Hyunjin cleans himself up as much as he can, scrubbing off the sweat and grit of the gym from his skin.

Once he’s finished, he gets dressed and sits down in front of his bedroom mirror that’s designed to look like a Hollywood-style vanity. Taking a deep breath, he inspects his face for any signs of something off. Nope. He looks as dewy and fresh as a pink rose petal, minus the slight red rings under his eyes, which are the courtesy of many, many sleepless nights over you.

Hyunjin, however, is incredibly proud of himself for getting to the office with fifteen minutes to spare, therein being able to fit in a little solo pep talk in the car. His third outfit of the day is a show-stopping black Celine suit, practically designed to make heads turn. It definitely isn’t to impress you with his impeccable style— no, he did it for himself, obviously. That’s the only reason. And it’s a little extravagant, even for Hyunjin, but then again, he’s never been known for his subtlety.

His post-workout clarity gives him hope that everything will go back to normal, before you. All he needs to do is focus on himself. Everything else will pass, eventually. At least, that’s what Hyunjin keeps telling himself to believe, right before he crashes headfirst into you in the hallway outside of his office.

“Hey, Hyunjin!” Grinning, you hold out a small gift box tied with a sunny bow, which is coincidentally the exact same yellow as the dress you wore when Hyunjin first met you. Today, you’re sporting salmon-colored shorts and a cream blouse with an adorable sailor collar, and Hyunjin immediately has to tamp down the urge to whisk you away to go on a private boating vacation on a yacht in St. Barts. God, you really have amazing style.

Hyunjin swallows roughly and takes the box, trying to look more excited about it than how utterly taken with you he is. “Afternoon, darling. What’s this?”

You reach your hand over to where the box rests in Hyunjin’s hands, toying with the bow. Hyunjin automatically feels himself internally hyperventilate at your proximity that’s too close for comfort.

“Mango cheesecake. I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe for a while now, and I think it finally turned out really well.” You break into a bright smile that makes Hyunjin’s brain short circuit. “I want to thank you for all of your help, besides me being less-than-cooperative sometimes. Coming here has really changed my perspective on things, and for the better.”

Hyunjin clutches the box to his chest. He had always suspected that you are the sweetest, under your stormy exterior, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to get a taste and confirm the truth for himself. Nevertheless, he’s both touched and now even more delusional, because you spent time on him, making something to give him. “Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

You pout in response, and Hyunjin grasps the box even tighter, nearly crushing the contents in an effort to get a grip on himself. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Hyunjin grins, feeling himself relax a little. That’s one more thing about you— you have this contradicting ability to induce both calmness and anxiety into him, another kind of black magic that you definitely harbor in your bewitching eyes. “Well, thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”

You look away shyly and gesture towards Hyunjin’s office. “Should we head in?”

Smiling to himself, Hyunjin steps ahead to open the door for you as you duck your head and scramble in, folding yourself onto the sofa that you both are now well-acquainted enough to often share. After setting his velvet tote bag onto his desk, Hyunjin sits down beside you, holding out a glass of mango juice to you, a drink that you now frequent whenever you meet. Plus the cheesecake? You really must love mangoes.

As you sip on your juice, Hyunjin decides to take the reasonable course of action available: ask you about your day, not if you’re available next Friday night at six. “How have you been? I’m sorry I couldn’t see you last week.”

You shrug, waving off Hyunjin’s apology like it’s nothing. It isn’t, though; he would rather have spent time with you than having to fly to Shanghai for some brand endorsement deal that his agent made him take. “Don’t worry about it. And I’ve been good. Evidently, in a much more agreeable mood these days. It’s certainly a step-up from the grumpier me, isn’t it?”

“I like you however you are,” Hyunjin blurts out without thinking, before freezing in realization. In a better world, he would have had the sense to at least clamp his hand over his mouth before he could say something stupid, but unfortunately, he’s stuck here. He wills the stammering, bumbling idiot that he turns into when you’re around to disappear, to be replaced by his usual, suave self. It doesn’t quite work, because he feels a furious blush building on his neck.

You’ve also turned a light shade of pink, and Hyunjin prays to God that you can’t see through his bullshit. “Because I’m your client. You accept me however I am.”

Hyunjin has to mentally stab himself with a fork as a reminder that he cannot, under any circumstances, disagree, although he really, really wants to. You could never be just a client to him. You’re too precious to him for that title. Yet, he keeps a straight face as he nods, disgusted with what he’s about to say. “Exactly. You’re my client.”

You down the rest of your drink, setting the glass down on the coffee table. “Anyway, you emailed me that you had something special planned for today. What is it?”

“Right.” Hyunjin clears his throat, getting up from the sofa to make his way over to his desk. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out the thick binder he’s been dreading using with you for a while now. It weighs his hands down like an unpleasant secret as he sits back down next to you.

“What’s this?” You inquire, leaning in closer to Hyunjin. The movement allows the sugary scent of your vanilla perfume become even more prominent to Hyunjin, which is definitely not helpful right now. Hyunjin stares down at the binder, adopting a robotic tone that won’t betray his thoughts.

“We’ve worked on just you for the past few months, and now it’s time. You’re finally ready to explore dating.” Hyunjin opens the binder, trying to ignore the sour taste of the words on his tongue. “And as I’ve told you before, SeoulSpark has an incredible matchmaking service that caters to everything you desire in a potential partner.”

“Cool! How does it work?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices your shorts ride up slightly, further exposing the soft skin of your upper thigh. Think of the fork, Hyunjin. Think of the damn fork.

“Well, I’ve already compiled a number of candidates in our database whose profiles complement yours. We’re going to be setting up a time when you can speed date them.”

You quirk your eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is to Hyunjin. “Speed dating? That’s…”

“I know, I know. It might seem weird at first, but that’s why we’re doing it the SeoulSpark way, to reduce awkwardness and make it really worth your time. We’ll go over the candidates briefly, and weed out the ones you really don’t want to see.” Hyunjin opens the binder, going to the profiles. “But I won’t tell you their names, so we can maintain at least a small element of surprise.”

Your eyes widen as you take in the first candidate’s picture, and Hyunjin has to fight the burning jealousy in his chest. “Wow. He’s handsome.”

“Swipe left or right?”

“Right.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin turns to the next page. “What about him?”

“Uh, left. He reminds me of my uncle. No thank you.”

Hyunjin stifles his smile as he continues flipping through the profiles, noting down your answers. He tries to enjoy your unfiltered reactions and not think about the fact that one of these lucky bastards could be your future husband. Finally, he gets to the last candidate.

You frown. “He looks kind of like a chipmunk. A quokka, maybe.”

“So is that a left?”

“I’ll say right. He seems like he’d be interesting.” You shrug, your eyes glittering with mischief. “Actually, I’m kind of excited now. Some of these guys are lookers.”

Hyunjin laughs in spite of himself, shutting the binder and standing up. “I’ll email you the details of the event by next week, when we’ll be holding it. ”

You nod, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear— oh, how Hyunjin wishes he could just casually do that for you. “Got it. I’ll make sure to look dazzling.”

“Darling, you always look dazzling.” Hyunjin smirks in self-satisfaction when you flush at his quip. It’s not exactly a reaction that’s foreign to him, but seeing you like this, all cute and bashful, is new. And it’s a look that’s very attractive on you. Hopefully, you attribute the flirting to Hyunjin’s naturally charming personality, not the fact that he’s impossibly gone for you. Not that the truth would make a difference, however. You’ll never be his.

“Thanks, Hyunjin.” You get up from your seat, letting Hyunjin walk you out, like he always does. “I feel like you have a vision going on for this matchmaking event.”

“Oh, I always have a vision.” Hyunjin chuckles, opening the door for you. “We’re considering a tropical theme, or a garden party, maybe. Or something glamorous. Kind of like prom, but without the bad music and horny teenagers, you know?”

You shrug. “Actually, I never went to my high school senior prom. But all of these ideas sound incredible.”

He pauses, his eyes widening. “You never went to prom?”

“There was this guy.” You look uncomfortable, but before Hyunjin can assure you that you don’t have to tell him about it, you decide to continue. “I wanted to go with him, but long story short, he rejected me. And I didn’t really have any friends I could go with either. I could have gone on my own, but I wasn’t brave enough. It’s one of the things that I did when I was younger that I regret now. I guess it just speaks volumes about how I hold myself back a lot.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Who in their right mind would reject you?”

“My first love, apparently. And a bunch of others.” You sigh, fiddling with the little bow on your sleeve. “But whatever. I’m going to find a real man.”

“They’re idiots. And prom isn’t even all that.”

You snort. “Says you. I’ll bet you were the kind of guy who got invited by all of the girls to be their date to prom, even if you weren’t even a senior yet.”

“Exactly. I would know precisely that prom is overrated as fuck.” Hyunjin gives you a smile. “Maybe we’ll just go with the garden party.”

You stay quiet for a moment, as if thinking something over, before looking directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Shame. I think I would’ve liked to see you in a tux.”

And with that, you turn around and leave, as Hyunjin just stays rooted on the spot, dumbfounded. Because how can you just so easily shoot an arrow straight into his heart and walk away? You’re a threat to society. You’re a wicked enchantress. You’re the bane of Hyunjin’s existence, and yet, he wants you to come back and string him along like a fucking bow. The dilemma is clear: Hyunjin absolutely cannot just move on from you. This is an extremely deafening cry for help.

“Wonyoung?” Hyunjin croaks, as he steps back inside and collapses onto his chair.

Hyunjin’s loyal secretary sticks her head into the room, her glossy locks tumbling over her shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Hyunjin makes a mental note to ask her later about her hair care routine. “Yes, boss?”

“Call Dr. Kim for me, please. I don’t feel so good.”

“Of course. I guess the bad sushi really got you this time.”

“Strep throat? Negative. Flu swab test? Negative. Every single other test you made me administer for you? Ditto.”

Hyunjin aggressively rubs his palms over his face. “Is there anything else, Seungmin? Are you sure there is absolutely nothing wrong with me? Should we do anything again?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, setting his clipboard down on the bench space next to him. “It’s Dr. Kim. And I did a Barium Swallow test for you, Hyunjin. You don’t just do those for any idiot who walks in begging to be examined for no apparent ailment. Took thirty minutes and nothing at all. Chief resident would be on my ass if she knew.”

“You’d think we haven’t been best friends since our Stanford days,” Hyunjin says. “There is something wrong with me.”

Hyunjin stares down at the upper right leg of his pants, picking at a small loose thread. He’s never seen one appear in his clothing ever since he was eighteen and quiet being so fashionably challenged, but instead of disgust, he feels a strange sense of solidarity. Just like the thread, he feels out of place; confused and lost, even though he’s standing right in the middle of half of the world’s dream. But wanting someone who he can never have isn’t a dream, surely, and neither is the phantom pain in his abdomen, the one that Dr. Kim claims doesn't exist.

“‘Our Stanford days’ were literally only three years ago. And I was in med school while you were getting a PhD in the study of crazies. I knew there were a couple screws loose up there,” Seungmin scoffs, tapping his temple in flourish punctuated with impudence. “I should have known better than to befriend your ass.”

“Seung-min, you’re lying,” Hyunjin retorts, emphasizing the syllables of his friend’s name. “I swear, I’m sick.”

Seungmin groans, fed up with Hyunjin’s stubborn mindset. “You’re twenty-eight years old and have your own booming practice. Hell, you wear head-to-toe designer, even underwear— yes, I saw the Gucci briefs in your bag, that one time you made me go shopping with you. Meanwhile, I’m a stressed, overworked, and underpaid surgery resident who has to listen to his rich and famous best friend complain that he’s not feeling well. Oh, poor baby. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying! I’m trying, okay?” Hyunjin finally explodes, throwing his hands up in the air. Usually, he maintains that peaceful temperament that puts up with Seungmin’s attitude. Not today, however. “Honestly, Seungmin, you want to know what’s wrong with me? Her. She’s all over me, inside and out! Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of her. Everywhere I go— her. And you know what? It’s not all in my head. It’s not a fucking crazy case. I physically feel myself wanting to throw up every five fucking minutes. I have a horrible headache that won’t go away, no matter how long I rot in my bed. I’m sore all over and I just want to go home!”

Hyunjin’s best friend just glares at him in shock for a good few seconds, watching as he pants from the ferocity of his words. And then he recovers, smoothing his face over into that signature judgemental expression, because he’s Kim Seungmin. “I should’ve known this was about a girl.”

Hyunjin sighs. Thankfully, no one overheard his rant, because this is Seungmin’s lunch break and whenever Hyunjin insists on an emergency meeting, Seungmin brings him over to this empty corridor tucked behind the equipment storage rooms, where no prying eyes wander.

“It’s not just any girl, Seungmin. It’s the girl. She’s… all I do know is that she’s my client who walked into my life three months ago and proceeded to destroy it. She came in like a tropical storm and now she smiles at me like the fucking sun. She confuses me and makes me forget random shit and she doesn’t even know about any of it. And all I want to be is hers, even though I can’t be.”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, before he bursts into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes his body shake with impact. “You… are… acting… so stupid.”

And this only makes Hyunjin even more frustrated. “Well, that’s the whole damn point! I’m not stupid, but I’m obviously acting it! I don’t know what to do, Seungmin! Help a brother out!”

After he calms himself down, Seungmin sighs loudly and wipes the traces of any tears caused by amusement of Hyunjin’s plight. “I’m not an expert in this, Hyunjin. But to be honest, it seems to me that you’re falling for her, and you’re just in denial.”

Hyunjin feels nothing short of horrified. “But… I can’t be. Are you sure?”

“Aren’t you the friggin’ Love Doctor or some shit? How the fuck am I supposed to be sure?”

But Hyunjin barely hears Seungmin, getting off the bench to pace back and forth in the little hallway. He can’t be falling for you, because— he just can’t! The plethora of problems that would arise from him falling in love with you are fucking endless, the worst being that you could end up negatively impacted. And all because your stupid, idiotic dating coach couldn’t keep his stupid, idiotic feelings in check. He would rather give up his beloved Versace brand deal than ever see you hurt, and that’s really saying something.

Seungmin tries to get to Hyunjin again. “Or maybe you’re not falling for her. Maybe you’re just horny.”

Hyunjin whirls around, side-eyeing Seungmin with disgust. “The hell you mean?”

“When’s the last time you, you know? Got some?”

“You put it so eloquently.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “And it’s been ten months.”

“See? That’s definitely it. You need to get laid, and you’re taking your sexual frustration out like this. You’re always the one lecturing everyone else on having healthy sex and love lives and shit, but really you’re a hypocrite. Tell me, why are you such a hypocrite, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin crosses his arms, irritated yet able to see Seungmin’s point. He had his share of relationships, enough to augment his experience and research in the whole field. It’s not like they all ended badly, though— quite the opposite, really. The majority of them were amicable splits, or awkward conversations, at the very most. The only notably sour memory is Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend from ninth grade, the one who broke up with him in a fit of jealousy when another girl confessed her love for Hyunjin. But then again, all high school relationships are basically doomed to crash and burn.

Hyunjin was careful to never get into anything too serious anyway, because his only love would be his job; he broke up with his last girlfriend— which might be a strong word for someone who merely considered him a wine-and-dine booty call— because he just didn’t feel that same spark with her that he felt when running his business. And he didn’t think he had that capacity to feel it anywhere else, but that was all before you.

“I don’t know, Seungmin.” Hyunjin looks down glumly at the concrete flooring, his body completely exhausted of all of the fight in him

The look in Seungmin’s eyes softens as Hyunjin slumps back into his seat. “Don’t you think that you’ve been so busy thinking about helping other people with their loves that you’ve completely neglected yours? When are you going to stop being so goddamn perfect and care for yourself?”

“But I do care for myself! Why else would I have a fourteen-step skincare routine and Gucci boxers?” Hyunjin protests, stalling more than really arguing. He just doesn’t want to admit to what’s really bothering him.

Seungmin rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. He should get back to rounds; lunch will be over soon. “That’s not self-care, that’s called being fucking weird. And I’m talking about your head. You have this illusion up there that in order to help others, you need to be flawless. Get out of it, man. Whether you want someone to have a one-night stand with or have your freaking children, you need to be open and pursue it. Life is messy and unpredictable, even for neurotic perfectionists like you. It’s okay to be horny. It’s okay to be in love. It’s okay to be you.”

Hyunjin ponders over Seungmin’s advice, before looking up. “I hate when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t you ‘fine’ me, dumbass. Go put on your Armani shit and get going, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t Mission Impossible. I can’t believe I have to tell you this.” Seungmin shakes his head, dusting off his scrubs. He leans forward to tighten the laces on his special work sneakers; the clock is really ticking down now.

Hyunjin gives Seungmin a withering look. “I wear Versace on my missions.”

“Welcome to SeoulSpark’s third biannual company-wide Matchmaking Event!”

The small crowd of hopeful singles crammed into the gazebo politely claps as the speaker looks down at all of you from his perch on the little elevated platform, like some kind of an all-knowing benefactor.

“Thank you everyone. You can call me Jin, and I’ll be your emcee and operations director on this fine afternoon.” He beams. “And can I just say, you people look so good today? Obviously not as much as me, but still.’”

A scattered collection of horribly faked laughter ripples throughout the gathering, and you have to resist rolling your eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jin does actually serve as great eye candy, you would’ve already been putting on your sunglasses and trying to fake being awake.

“Dr. Hwang will be here in a few moments to intro, and then we’ll get on with it!” Jin states, continuing his unnecessary theatrics. “But while we wait, can someone answer this question: what do you call an ice cream that parties too hard?”

Before the inevitable awkward silence can ensue, some bored-looking man who stands a little further away from everyone else pipes up. You recognize him as the very first candidate whose picture Hyunjin had presented to you— the hot one— except now, his short, preppy haircut has grown out into a wavy mullet. “Just say it.”

Jin looks temporarily taken aback by the man’s unfiltered attitude, before correcting his expression back into a winning smile. “It is out of CONE-trol! Get it? Because of the ice cream cone? Isn’t that funny?”

There isn’t a single person in the crowd who looks impressed, least of all mullet-guy. “No. And it still wouldn’t be funny even if I was seven years old and actually liked horrible dad jokes.”

There’s a bite to his tone, and Jin seems to have taken it personally. Jin clears his throat, stuck while clearly trying to think of something to say, when relief comes over his face as he looks directly at you. “There he is! Dr. Hwang: the man of the hour.”

You turn around so fast that you nearly get whiplash, and of course Hyunjin is right there, towering over you like some sort of gorgeous sunflower. Fuck— you knew you smelled that stormy jasmine in the air, but you passed it off as just your imagination. And because there are so many people packed into this tiny pavilion, your bodies are practically pressed together as everyone else cranes their necks to get a load of the Love Doctor.

“It’s so good to see you, darling. You look stunning,” Hyunjin says to you, in a way that seems so genuine that your baby blue gingham sundress from Target doesn’t feel so childish anymore, like you thought after seeing all of the other ladies’ stylish getups.

“Thanks.” You blush, averting your eyes. The last time you met up with him, your bolder alter-ego possessed you for a second and threw a flirty one-liner at Hyunjin, when you realized yourself and walked the hell away, before you could gauge his reaction. “You look very stunning yourself as well.”

And he truly is, as always, dressed in another quirky yet stylish look: a high-neck jacket and camel cargos, complete with a chain link shoulder leather bag. The thick gold crosses dangling from his ears don’t look gaudy, instead bringing out a youthful glow in Hyunjin’s skin. God, you really love a man who can dress.

“Everything alright, Dr. Hwang?” Jin calls out, breaking you out of your trance.

“Yes, Jin. I’ll be up in a second.” Hyunjin doesn’t take his eyes off of you, just serenely blinking like he has all the time in the world. “I absolutely adored your mango cheesecake, darling. You have to tell me about the recipe later.”

He shoots you one last disarming smile, before heading up to the platform, and you’re left to longingly stare after him like a dessert enthusiast on a sugar-free diet. You watch him take the mic from Jin, who dramatically holds out his hands towards Hyunjin when backing off of the platform.

“Hello!” Hyunjin chirps, and really, the wind is a paid actor here, breezing in and perfectly tousling his midnight mane.

This time, the audience’s response is more authentic, everyone responds in their own greetings out loud. You can’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight; your crush really is so charismatic.

“So, we’ve already explained how today’s going to work in the emails that were sent out to all of you a couple days ago. But to debrief: we will be having fifteen six-minute speed dating rounds today, each held at one of the designated tables,” Hyunjin explains, gesturing to the space surrounding the gazebo.

For the matchmaking event, SeoulSpark booked out Cafe Fiorella, a posh little eatery nestled in the heart of Vista Hermosa Natural Park’s dusty garden trails and meadows. Hyunjin and his planners did an outstanding job of organizing everything, and even you can’t help but note how impossibly romantic it is— for a speed-dating gig, at least. There are dainty bistro tables set up in the grassy outdoor dining area and nestled on top of them, multiple tiered platters loaded with hors d'oeuvres and decorative blossoms. You don’t even want to think about how much this would have cost.

“Before each round, you will all get a text providing you with the number of your table, where you will be able to chat with your partner, one of the candidates that corresponded with your profile.” Hyunjin catches your eye, and you feel yourself heat up. Focus. “After every round, take note of who you want to see again, and at the end, we’ll give you a form to fill out and submit. When you have your next appointment with us, we’ll let you know who you’ve matched with. Any questions?”

No one raises any, probably because they’re too self-conscious to ask in front of their potential partners, which leaves Hyunjin to just nod. “My team and I will be present as chaperones, just making sure everything is going smoothly. And I’d also like to thank our Dr. Jeon’s brother, Mr. Kim Seokjin, for volunteering to time and emcee the event!”

“Oh, Hyun. Always so formal. Call me Mr. Worldwide Handsome instead!” Jin calls out from the back. He does an exaggerated little bow and you— along with many other attendees— have to stifle a laugh. What a cheeseball.

Hyunjin just smiles graciously, eyes crinkling with mischief. “Let’s get the party going!”

The up-tempo, raunchy sound of girl rap blasts out of speakers that you didn’t even know existed, scaring the shit out of you momentarily. You have no doubt at all that the afternoon’s garden party beats were compiled by your eccentric Love Doctor, before you start to subconsciously sway— and mentally twerk— to “Body.”

“Ladies and gents, this is just in with Jin! Make sure to find your seats in the next five minutes, and we’ll start the clock!”

Your phone chimes with your first table assignment of the day, and you make your way over there, dodging the throngs of men and women antsy to discover their matches. You sit down at your table, trying to ignore the nervousness building in your chest. With the presence of Hyunjin, his beautiful self lingering somewhere barely a few feet away from you, you’re not sure you can give today your best. And for the first time— it’s not you. It’s the fact that you have feelings for your unsuspecting charmer, and deep inside, you can’t fight the thought of not being able to get over him.

But a lively ambiance courtesy of Megan Thee Stallion doesn’t fit the deep, contemplative mood, so you resort to pushing away your qualms and blankly gazing out at the high rise views while waiting for your partner. If this doesn’t work out, at least you can say you had a nice time humming to lovably NSFW music and raiding the appetizers.

“Beefing with you bitches really getting kinda boring—”

“You know, I kind of vibe with this shit.” Mullet-guy from earlier plops down into the chair across from you. “Don’t tell Mr. Worldwide Handsome that, though. I’ll never give him the satisfaction.”

You giggle at the comically blank expression on mullet-guy’s face. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Jin would’ve added the EDM remix of “Savage” to the playlist.”

Mullet-guy doesn’t smile, but you catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m Yoongi.”

“Y/N.” You carefully take a mini slice of flaky herbed pastry off of the stand and place it on the china plate in front of you. Now that everyone has settled down, the music has been turned down to enable better conversation. “Maybe I’m being blunt here, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type of guy to go to a speed-dating event.”

“Well, what kind of guy do I strike you as?” Yoongi asks, settling back comfortably into his chair. If it was anyone else talking, you would have thought they were flirting with you. But not with Yoongi— you can’t quite put your finger on it, but he feels incredibly familiar to you. This could be just another regular talk with a good friend.

You make a show of taking in his beat-up leather jacket and the silver stud in his left ear, all add-ons to his roguishly handsome aesthetic. “Wannabe SoundCloud rapper meets Fuji Kaze, except with an even worse fashion sense.”

Most people would have already shrank away from your sarcastic sense of humor, but Yoongi claps back. “I could say the same for you. Don’t tell me you’re actually going for The Stepford Wives with that dress. You even have the Mary-Jane shoes.”

“These are discounted flats from Old Navy, don’t even. And I’ll bet your emo ass was stuck in Hot Topic since grade school.”

Yoongi bursts out laughing. “Okay, you win. But you’re not wrong though— I am a rapper, of sorts.”

You lean forward. “Really?”

“Of sorts— I haven't had much time to really get into it and improve myself, ever since I started my own record label last year, D-2 Music,” Yoongi says, picking at his peach scone. “Managing other artists is my focus these days. Been writing my whole life, though.”

“What do you like to write about?” You take a bite of your pastry, savoring how it nearly melts in your mouth. Maybe this thing isn’t that bad; good food and good conversation. Besides, this Yoongi is totally intriguing to you.

“Dreams, depression, obsession.” Yoongi steadily holds your gaze, and you don’t look away.

“Refreshing.”

“I get that a lot.” Yoongi takes a sip of his mimosa, before making a face and putting it back down.

“No, but seriously. I hate pretending, most of all. Perfection doesn’t exist, and a lot of people can’t get a grip on that.” You shrug, wiping your mouth with one of the provided lavender napkins. “It is refreshing that you don’t seem to give a crap about others.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi smiles, and you think it’s a good look on him. It doesn’t fade even after what he says next. “We’re not going to be a match, are we?”

In that moment, you can confidently say that you are both the same exact person, and while it feels so good to finally speak with someone who might remotely understand exactly what you are, you know it can never be a sustainable relationship. The two strong-minded pessimists that you both are would only clash or just further bring each other down, in the end. So you return his smile, not a hint of sorrow in it.

“Probably not.” Both of you clink your champagne classes together and drink on it, before collectively gagging at the taste.

“Time’s up, people! Please bid your partners adieu and get on to your next table!” Jin’s voice breaks out through his microphone, and immediately, the music resumes as the frenzy starts all over again.

You stand up, smoothing out your skirt and looking over at Yoongi, who stays seated, taking his own time finishing his scone. “Catch you later, Hot Topic.”

“Likewise, Mary-Jane.” Yoongi snickers, tilting his head up in a casual goodbye.

You make your way to your new assignment, and as you approach, you remember him. The next person sitting there is the final candidate that Hyunjin had shown you, the one with the rather squirrely look to him. You have to admit, however, that he isn’t bad-looking, with wavy brown bangs falling into his eyes and a soft smile painting his features. He looks simple, a pretty boy waiting for a girl. You feel like you’re reading a picture book with a happy ending, because there are no puzzles to stay sleepless over. You see the bistro table becoming a kitchen counter, frequented for coffee talk and family dinners— there is no smoke-cracked glass desk that costs more than your entire salary. And you’re not Pygmalion sculpting Galatea, the gender bended Grecian rendition of the Hyunjin who plagues your thoughts; instead, you can see the elementary construction paper dotted with finger-painted sunny skies.

“Hi,” you greet, dragging out your chair and locking eyes with the stranger. Strangely, you don’t feel that telltale thump of your heartbeat in your panting chest— you sense a steady rhythm, and perhaps you could get used to it. Think: the picture book over the puzzle. You like staying in check and control— Hyunjin doesn’t allow you that power, no matter how unknowingly he keeps it for himself.

“Hi,” he responds. “I, uh, thought you had a nice smile in your picture. It’s even better in real life.”

You stay unfazed; compliments don’t affect you much— when they come from anyone but Hyunjin. Still, it’s a cute try, and you decide to dig in deeper. To you, directness is key— again, when dealing with anyone but Hyunjin.

You slide your finger down the damp side of your champagne flute, tracing a haphazard shape in the water drops. The man falls quiet again, and you don’t bother saying anything else, just taking him in. You don’t have much experience with conversation loaded with romantic intent, and this holds true even with your infamous ex-boyfriend.

Park Jisung had spied you at a holiday festival on your college campus, and then proceeded to ask you out. It was pretty unceremonious, to say the least, and thinking in hindsight, you can’t remember a time when he actually tried to get to know you. You were so enamored with him that you didn’t bat an eye, not even when he insisted on having sex with you on your very first date. And it was also your very first time, actually— but you didn’t question it. And the sex? It was over in less than five minutes and he left right after he finished, but it just felt nice to be wanted, for once.

In the following months, you realized that when he wasn’t sleeping with you, Jisung was in his own world. You barely existed to him, while you memorized his Chipotle order and silently bought new soap for him when it ran out. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he just wanted a warm body in his bed to replace the other ones he’d fucked with all day.

“You should know that I have asthma, just in case you intend on taking my breath away on a regular basis,” the man blurts out, snapping you out of your depressing Jisung-reverie.

You bite back a snort— looks like Mr. Worldwide Handsome has new competition for the corniest person at this place. “Thank you.”

He coughs, no doubt embarrassed by his poorly executed pick-up line. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Pretty people make me nervous.”

“You’re pretty too.” You shrug nonchalantly as the man blushes. “What’s your name?”

“Han Jisung.”

You nearly throw the champagne in his face. “Come again?”

“Jisung. My name is Jisung.”

You clench your fists under the table, trying not to break something. Of all the people in this world— of all the fucking names in this world— you just had to get set-up with a guy who shares the same name as a monster who did nothing but hurt you. What the fuck, universe? You glance at your phone screen peeking out of your purse— there are still four minutes left in this stupid round.

“Hey, is everything good?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You look up, giving him a venomous smile. Screw the picture book. “What do you like to do in your free time, Han Jisung? Don’t tell me you like to day-drink and play beer pong.”

“I’m not really a drinker. And you can just call me Ji-”

“Tell me, Han Jisung, is your zodiac sign Aquarius? And do you work in tech? Do you work for NCT Corp? Do you?” You inquire without a break, gulping down your glass before refilling it with more of that horrendous champagne. The angel on your shoulder implores you not to project your ex-boyfriend’s personality onto the poor sucker sitting in front of you, but the devil whispers a different tune. You decide to follow the latter’s advice; raging hellfire is always more fun.

Han Jisung looks bewildered, but answers your question anyway. “Um, I'm a Virgo. I do work in tech, but with JYP Electronics.”

“Wonderful.”

“Anyway… I never got your name,” Han Jisung tries, visibly shaken by your suddenly aggressive line of questioning.

You scowl at him. “That’s because I already made the mistake of trusting someone like you, Han Jisung.”

There’s still a few seconds left in the round timer, but you don’t pay any mind to it. Your social battery has been exhausted, and all of the progress you’ve made in a long time has gone to dust in a mere five-minute parameter. You grab your bag and stalk away from the table, leaving Han Jisung staring after you, openmouthed and utterly perplexed by the unmerited hostility. But screw him— you can’t even live for a day without being reminded by your douchebag ex who traumatized the fuck out of you.

In your fury, you barely notice the rolling cart of lunch items that accidentally rams into your side. Bowls of pesto pasta fly off the cart, the roasted cherry tomatoes arching in the air in perfect semi-circles before splattering onto the pristine grass. The restaurant staff immediately attends to the mess, while the other guests just glance carelessly at the mess before continuing onto the next round. You rub your hip as Hyunjin rushes over to you.

“Darling, are you alright?” Hyunjin drapes his arm around your shoulders, gazing at you with concern. You melt into his touch for a moment, the frustration simmering with the longing inside of you. “Where were you going?”

You back away from him. “This was a bad idea. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I need more time.”

He frowns, stepping closer to you. “But—”

“Han Jisung?” You interrupt, more animosity in your tone than you intend for there to be. “You knew his name when showing me his profile.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen in both remembrance and regret. “Oh my god. I didn’t realize— I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Even taking into account how you feel right now, you don’t want to take it out on Hyunjin. Never. “It’s not your fault. But I’ll be on my way.”

Ducking your head, you turn and walk away, furiously blinking the tears away. A small part of you wishes Hyunjin would call you back, hug you close to him and ask you to stay. But he doesn’t, because he knows his boundaries. It’s you who doesn’t know their place, because regardless of the smarting pain inside of you, you want Hyunjin to bandaid your emotional damage.

And as you pick up your pace, you realize that maybe you really are doomed to be Pygmalion, yearning for someone who no one else can even compare to, someone who’ll never be yours. No matter what sorts of grotesque demons haunt you, the most sinister of them all is the off-limits adonis who disturbs your heart even when you’re still reeling from the previous break. Han Jisung’s sunny skies woke you up from your dreams— Galatea is a fucking statue, art that will never come alive.

“Well, that was a colossal disaster.” Hyunjin covers his face with his palms and shrinks into the buttery leather upholstery of his seat.

Wonyoung glances over at him as the car starts up. “What do you mean? I think it went great. I saw a sickening amount of flirting going on. Pretty soon, you’ll be officiating a bunch of weddings.”

Hyunjin groans, shaking his head. “But did you see the way Y/N left, Wonyoung? The whole Jisung thing? God, I screwed things up colossally.”

“It’s not your job to remember the names of all of your clients’ ex-boyfriends. It was an honest mistake that we both overlooked.”

“Still.”

“Dr. Hwang, I feel like there’s more to this than you’re letting on.” Wonyoung crosses her arms. “Since when did you get so worked up over a client— over anything?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes like a petulant child. “I’m not getting worked up.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Sure.” Wonyoung looks back down at her tablet, tapping away at the screen. “I’m already seeing so many matches.”

“Nice.” Hyunjin looks out the window pointedly. “It’s always fucking raining these days.”

“Dr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin ignores Wonyoung, just leaning forward to instruct the cab driver. “Actually, can you drop me off at The North End? Thanks.”

“Seriously. What is going on?” Wonyoung presses once more. “You can’t just go drinking now, not like this.”

“I’ll be fine, Ms. Jang.” Hyunjin doesn’t meet her eyes as he gets out of the car, placing a few bills covering the whole cab fare into her hands. “Get home safe.”

Before she can protest, Hyunjin closes the door and lets the drizzle envelop him, effectively ruining his new logo-motif jacquard set. But he doesn’t give a fuck as he steps into the bar like a shivering stray cat, because the stench of liquor and greasy peanuts is strong enough to incapacitate his inner fashion police.

“Bourbon, on the rocks,” Hyunjin orders glumly, looking down at his phone screen, a shot of Princess Diana on her birthday last year. She looks absolutely precious in that fluffy pink tutu that he dressed her in, a sight that never fails to make Hyunjin melt. Today, however, not even his adorably stylish puppy can cure him. He downs the whiskey the bartender sets in front of him, wincing at the burn he so rightfully deserved.

When you stormed out of the party just barely two hours ago, it took every fiber of Hyunjin’s being to not run after you. He’d wanted to ditch everyone and just kiss it better for you. He’d take you back to his apartment, run you a bath, cook you a comfort meal, and massage all of your sore spots. And then he’d cuddle with you on the couch, holding you while you fall asleep in his arms. But his stupid common sense held him back, rooting him to the spot like a big, dumb boulder.

After speaking with Seungmin, he realized how precisely he’s gone for you. And it obviously wouldn’t end well, so he decided that distance— complete professionalism— would be the way to go. Last night, he’d tried a crapload of healthy methods to try and fix himself, from watching porn to reading porn to even listening to porn on some sketchy podcast— anything to distract him from the thought of you. But nothing worked, because he wasn’t horny. No, he had an emotional boner— the worst kind of boners. In the end, he’d realized that the only way to move on from you would be get his ass out there and find someone else,a rebound— which is what he’d been dreading all along.

Therefore, he’d turned around like a fucking moron and went back to the party, listlessly floating around like a trash bag discarded on the highway. And now, he’s at some bar with high end cocktails that are just a pretentious way of saying “fuck me” to strangers.

“Hey there handsome, need company?”

Hyunjin looks to his left, where the sultry voice has originated from: a young woman— a pretty one, too. She’s wearing the kind of tight, black dress and matching coy smile that can only mean she wants one thing. Luckily, Hyunjin’s on the same page as her.

“What’s your name, darling?” Hyunjin asks her, ignoring the guilt inside his chest. That term of endearment was once reserved for you, and only you. He’d have to get over the sting of that too.

She sits down next to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and exposing the smooth skin of her neck. “Lisa.”

“Lisa,” Hyunjin repeats, signaling to the bartender for another round. “Tell me, what do you do?”

“I’m hoping it’ll be you tonight.” Lisa smirks at him, raising an eyebrow seductively.

Well. That was fast.

Hyunjin chuckles, trying not to think of the nausea rising in his stomach. He accepts the drink from the bartender, clinking his glass against Lisa’s, meeting her darkened eyes over the rim.

“I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”

You haven’t watched trashy Youtube videos in months, thinking you’d left that disgusting habit behind, and yet, here you are, watching said trashy Youtube videos. Today, it’s a shotgun wedding getting upstaged by one of the bridesmaids proclaiming her love for the groom. You feel an old chips packet somewhere inside the bedsheet hollow you’ve burrowed yourself into, the crumbs poking into your back like unwanted intruders. However, you just try to ignore the nasty feeling and slump into the mattress, pulling the bedcovers up so they cover your chin.

It’s been almost a full week since the matchmaking debacle that you absolutely made a spectacle of yourself at. You’ve spent the entire time drifting off to work, getting yelled at by Mark for no reason at all, and then coming home and lazing around. At this point, your gym membership must be a mere accessory, and the nearby 7-Eleven that you frequent for junk food is practically your second home. Fuck— you’re disgusted with yourself.

Resorting to self-destructive yet containable activities has always been your go-to for whenever you’ve been down— you’ll let yourself be fine with the world falling apart as long as it’s inside the confines of your humble abode. For months, however, you’d truly believed that you were past it. Hyunjin’s presence in your life inserted a certain desire inside of you— not to be better for him, but to be better because of him. Hyunjin opened your eyes to the real beauty of living, of having passion for any trade and a lust for happiness. That kind of positive outlook kept you climbing up that hill, no matter how arduous it was to maintain good spirits for the majority of the time. But as soon as a crisis hit, you bailed on your trek and fell back down the cliff.

You feel truly guilty as well, an emotion that usually got lost in the web of pity and hatred that you spun yourself into whenever you know you’ve done something wrong. Han Jisung didn’t deserve to be subjected to your outburst, you know that— that should have been reserved for the person who actually wronged you. You never actually got the chance to confront Park Jisung, not after he walked out like he didn’t just fucking break you. Deep inside, you know that you take out that inky mixture of unresolved frustration and regret on every single person who dares trigger you, even if it’s unintentional. Han Jisung was one such unfortunate target today.

A small chime alerts you to a new message, and you tear your eyes away from your laptop, reaching for your phone on your nightstand. In the notifications on your home screen, you see that it is not an email from Hyunjin like you’d unrealistically hoped for— instead, it’s a text from Yeonjun, your cousin who’s a constant thorn in your fucking side.

Yeonjun: hmm i’m thirsty :P

You: no yeonjun, i will not take you out for drinks.

Yeonjun: pretty pls w a cherry on top

You: fuck off

Yeonjun: u seem upset :(((

You: i’m having adult problems, yeonjun. leave me alone.

Yeonjun: well then i will help you with ur adult problems

Yeonjun: u know, i’m an adult too OMG

Yeonjun: come on, when have i ever not given u great advice?

Yeonjun: i missed my fucking calling in therapy. i woulda been an excellent shrink.

Yeonjun: i’m an amazing cousin who always is there for u. y/n i lysm, u know that?

Yeonjun: u know what else i love? Vodka.

Yeonjun: but i love u too <3

You: Yeonjun, stop fucking spamming me or I’m not coming.

Yeonjun: YAYY!

With a defeated sigh, you shove the blankets to the side, the cold air conditioning gripping your body like a vice. But begrudgingly, you have to admit that it feels refreshing to get out of your sweaty hideout and step into the shower, cleaning yourself up as much as you can on the outside— the inside issue can be attended to with the drinks.

A half hour later, you find yourself in a skeevy dive bar on the Westside, doing shots with your cousin, because even though he irritates you to the core, he’s all you have. You really could use that drink, anyway. But no amount of alcohol seems to mask the way your heart hangs heavier than the full moon outside. In fact, the liquid courage just manifests your sadness even more, leaving you a sniveling mess on the bar counter.

“And, he was actually really cute, you know? But I could never date him,” you sniffle, after downing your fifth drink. “It’s just, I just can’t deal with any reminders of Jisung.”

Yeonjun knocks back his vodka. “I take it back. If therapy means dealing with saps like you, I’d rather die.”

You frown at him. “It’s better than being a failing TikTok influencer. When’s the last time any of your thirst traps got views?”

Yeonjun shrugs, unbothered by your jab; he’s as used to you as you are to him. “You could’ve at least hooked up with him, if he was that cute.”

You swirl your straw in the melting ice as you get on your phone, pulling up the follow-up email in which Hyunjin had sent you online scans of the candidate profiles. Yeonjun looks over your shoulder and whistles as you zoom-in on Han Jisung’s picture. “But I’ve only ever slept with Jisung before. I may be a scary bitch, but I’m not bold enough for that.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Yeonjun cackles. “Well, it’s only a better reason to have a one-night stand. Do you really want to give your trash ex-boyfriend the power of being the only person to have had sex with you? That’s kind of sad.”

Yeonjun makes a face, shivering in disgust, and you sock him in the elbow in retaliation. “For someone so bitchless, you really have such strong opinions about me and my love life.”

“Who says I’m bitchless?” Yeonjun grins deviously. “Besides, you’re the one who told me all this crap in the first place.”

You glance up at the ceiling, feeling an indescribable sense of loss. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind a one-night stand, though. I guess getting laid is something I kind of need right now. I need to stop letting Jisung control every aspect of my life.”

“Well, if you’re not averted to the idea, a person of interest just walked in.”

You whip around to look at the door, and of all people, Han Jisung from the matchmaking event walks in. He doesn’t notice you at the counter, just making his way over to one of the booths near the entrance and sitting down in solitude. The waiter takes his order and walks away, leaving him to put on his headphones in wait.

“I think I must be living in a social experiment.” You groan and look over at Yeonjun. “Hell if I’m sleeping with him.”

“Did you or did you not just say that you don’t want to let your ex control your life?”

You stare at Yeonjun. “I can sleep with someone else. He’s probably too scared of me anyway. I kind of verbally-knifed him the other day.”

“Please. Everything about that guy screams ‘degrade me.’ He probably liked that shit. You might as well use him as a punching bag again— this time, more productively.” Yeonjun waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“The fuck do you know about productivity?”

“Nada. But I do know a lot about getting a fix when needed.” Your cousin winks at you, producing a packet of condoms out of nowhere and slapping it into your palm. Before you can react, Yeonjun is already slinking off to go and flirt with a pretty girl sitting by herself on the other end of the counter. And alas, you’re left alone again. With a packet of XL condoms— Yeonjun sure is optimistic.

You glance over at said person of interest, who is currently immersed in whatever song that’s got him bopping his head to the beat, eyes closed as if in a dreamy trance. He’s not your type, for sure. But the thing is, you don’t even know what your damn type is at this point— if it wasn’t for Hyunjin’s ability to make you feel inappropriate things so vividly, you’d have thought you had fucking cobwebs down there. Speaking with Yeonjun really was a reminder that you’re still young, after years of both an emotional and physical dry spell. Emotionally, you might not be ready. Physically, however, there’s an opening, and you know it.

When you were dating Park Jisung, sex was always initiated by him. It was always for himself too, because he never cared about making you feel good. But you didn’t see it as a red flag, since you were so in love with him. You just followed him around like an innocent, lovesick puppy that was eager to please. And in the end, even that wasn’t enough.

Your first orgasm— and first experience with a deeper kind of desire— was alone, some time after your relationship ended. It was a quiet night, and you’d just fallen back onto the couch after another long, uneventful day at work. You flipped through the TV channels before settling on a network that was playing The Notebook, and despite its fame and reach, you’d never watched the movie before. Everything was normal until the main characters started kissing each other in the rain, a scene that would remain something you’d download and revisit many, many times when you were locked away in your room.

You’d never seen that level of lust before. You’d never felt it directed towards you or ever even experienced it when you discovered porn in your teenage years. Yet, these two people seemed to want each other on a whole other level, risking everything— their home, their reputation, their love— for something you’d always thought would be over in two minutes. And as your hand undid the button of your jeans and slipped down even lower, you realized just how wrong you were.

In the years that followed, you learned to become so much more comfortable with your sexuality. Hell, you have a drawer dedicated to storing your sex toys and on nights that you’d had too many glasses of wine, you wind up writing filthy erotica just for fun. However, you’d never actually considered having sex outside of a committed relationship, not until now. And in complete honesty, you really are curious about if Han Jisung is as subby as Yeonjun insinuated— if that proves to be true, you wouldn’t mind taking your pent-up Jisung-frustrations out on him. Productivity, and all.

You slap your payment down on the wooden counter, shaking it slightly, before marching towards Han Jisung’s table.

“Hey,” you start, but Han Jisung doesn’t notice you. “HEY!”

Han Jisung’s eyes fly open as he jerks in his seat and pulls off his headphones. At the sight of you approaching him so determinedly, he eyes you with both wariness and renewed interest, and you have to keep yourself from sighing exasperatedly at his hesitant desperation. You’re here for a reason, after all.

“Oh, hello. Y/N, right? I asked Hyunjin for your name after you left.” He gives you a nervous smile, brushing the bangs off of his forehead. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say—”

“I’ll get to the point, Han Jisung.” You cut him off, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. It’s like he’s never in his life encountered a woman who knows what the hell she wants. “I want to have sex with you. What do you say?”

For a good minute, he says nothing, just gaping at you, shocked. And then he does a double-take, looking you up and down as if checking to see if you’re real.

“Is this a ploy to kidnap me and steal my organs, or something? Because when I last saw you, I got the impression that you severely disliked me.”

“No, I’m not going to steal your organs. The truth is complicated,” you scoff. “But you’re hot, and I’m over everything else, at least for tonight. Are you up for it?”

You stare Han Jisung down, making him shift in his seat. He scratches his nose and blinks at you like a trembling mouse. “I… wait. You think I’m hot?”

What an idiot. Good thing he’s pretty.

“Is that a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

With no warning at all, you grasp his hand, pulling him out of the booth while he scrambles to grab his belongings and shove them into his pockets. You feel his gaze on the back of your neck as you drag him through the bar, walking with your chin pointed up with purpose. You wind your way between the tables expertly, but this Jisung stumbles, making you glare at him over your shoulder.

“Watch your step,” you snap.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at the floor as you barge into the bathroom in the back of the building, tugging him inside with you. “Wait, are we not going to your place, or—”

“Stop asking so many fucking questions, Han Jisung.” You slam the door behind you both and click the metal latch in place, leaving you both locked in the tiny room. It isn’t so cramped that there isn’t any space for movement, but it’s small enough to force you both into facing each other in a charged silence.

You eye Jisung from head to toe, taking in his baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans. He clears his throat, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “So, um, do you really have to call me by full name? Don’t you think that’s a little formal, considering what’s about to happen?”

You roll your eyes, your mind going back to the other Jisung you know. Never— there must be something to differentiate the two. You take an intimidatingly emphasized step towards him, backing him up against the wall. “No. I don’t think that’s too formal, Han Jisung.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You trace your eyes down his body once more, gaze landing on the noticeable bulge in his pants. Bless Yeonjun— how right he was, for once. You look up, giving Jisung a mean smile. “Are you actually getting turned on right now?”

“Uh, wow—” He squeaks, as you reach your hand out and place it on his warm thigh, tracing it up his limb at a painful pace both dedicated to your desire to tease and be cautious.

“I asked you a fucking question.” You retract your hand right before it reaches its destination, glowering at him. “Answer me.”

“Just, um. I…” Jisung stammers, closing his eyes before opening them again, as if preparing himself. The honeyed tone of his skin exposes a light blush and therefore, his answer. “Ruin me, please.”

That’s all the permission you need before you’re placing your hands on Jisung’s surprisingly toned shoulders, roughly turning him around and swapping places with him, so that now you’re the one with their back to the wall.

“Han Jisung…” You speak slowly, punctuating your words with the kind of loathing that has Jisung panting like a dog waiting for a treat, eyes wide with anticipation tinged with delicious fear. “If you’re a good boy and do as you’re told, I’ll see about giving you a reward.”

“Oh my god.”

“Take off your clothes.”

Jisung nearly trips over his own two feet trying to wrestle the suddenly irksome swaths of fabric off of his body, tossing the garments onto the gross bathroom floor like he doesn’t give a fuck about getting a staph infection later. When he’s fully stripped, you trace your eyes over him in your own leisure, reveling in the way he shivers when you do. Your gaze washes over his defined abs, dipping even lower until you reach his hardened cock, flushed a pretty pink and glazed with pre-come— the condoms would come in very handy, after all.

Seeing him bared to you and your mercy rouses you up like you never thought it would; you never thought that feeling wanted yet being in control would work you up so much, but it does, and you love it beyond reason.

“You’re really something else. Getting off on me being so mean to you.” With a sadistic smirk, you cross your arms. “I bet you thought about me even after I ditched your ass at the party, didn’t you?”

“I— I did,” he admits, with a nervous giggle. “You’re so fucking hot, I just couldn’t help it. Seriously. I’m sorry if— mmph.”

You interrupt his rambling by winding your hand into his soft hair and forcing him closer to you, meeting his soft lips in a harsh kiss, one that has him moaning shamelessly into your mouth. You kiss him deeply, like you want to punish him for it, like you want to both hurt him and make him beg for more. Jisung’s lips are small but full, moving against yours in a sloppy yet heated exchange, fighting for more in an unwinnable battle; he tastes like brandy, strawberries, and the promises of a good time, and you’re drunk on it.

“You’re disgusting, Han Jisung,” you spit out, prompting a whimper from Jisung. “Get on your fucking knees.”

He wastes no time dropping to his knees and letting you lead the way, fully submitting to your tantric commands. Quickly, you clutch at his hands and direct them to where they should be, tilting your head back against the wall as Jisung satisfies your wishes. With an eagerness that doesn’t even compare to your own, Jisung loosens the knot on the elastic band of your skirt, not bothering to untie it fully before he’s tugging the skirt up so that it’s bunched around your waist.

And without you even demanding him to move faster, he’s pushing your panties aside and attaching his greedy mouth to your cunt. You nearly jerk away at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure; your ex-boyfriend never went down on you, and oh, how profoundly you’ve missed out. But you’ve researched enough to know exactly what you want.

Jisung’s eyes flick up to where you’re looking down and showering him with breathy sighs, spurring on his performance. When you shoot him a warning glare, he goes back to completely making-out with your cunt, easily spreading you apart with two of his fingers so he can focus on your throbbing clit. Jisung uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh gently, rubbing circles into the smooth skin as he works.

He delves deeper into your pussy when you run your hands through his silky hair, lapping at your arousal like it’s honey and he’s been starving for days. “You taste so good…”

Immediately, you yank back his hair and hold him in place as you start to grind onto his pretty face. “I don’t remember saying you could fucking talk.”

Jisung groans, taking every insult you hurl at him in such a measured but unbridled way. He makes up for his lack in precision with his enthusiasm, suctioning his mouth around your tender clit and swirling his tongue in patterns that have gotten you seeing the fucking stars. He lets you use him entirely, body going slack as he helps you ride out your high. The obscene sounds of Jisung slurping at your cunt fill the room as you come, gripping his head between your thighs as you feel that beautiful wave of euphoria fall over you. You pat Jisung’s shoulder in silent instruction, and he rises, cupping the sides of your arms and running his hands down them gently, soothing the way you quiver at any touch.

“Are you okay?” Jisung whispers, making you open your eyes in surprise. Your ex-boyfriend never once checked up on you, not even when you were clearly in discomfort that first time he made you his own. This complete stranger however, one that you have been anything but gracious with, inspects your face with concern. A strange feeling of warmth spreads throughout your body as you nod your head.

“I’m good. You did well.” You grasp the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head so that all you’re standing in now are your skirt and basically ruined panties. You didn’t bother with putting on a bra before you left the house, and now, you’re thankful for the decision that was ultimately a byproduct of your laziness; Jisung gazes at your body with utter reverence, like just the sight of your tits has blessed his entire life.

“Please…”

“Please what, Han Jisung?” You bite your lip, both amused and flattered by how desperate he is for your pussy. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Jisung whines sadly, clearly on the verge of tears. His cock is now rock-hard, flush against his stomach, and it turns you on so much to know that eating you out has reduced him to such a pathetic mess.

“Yes, you have…” you murmur, before jutting out your hand to hold his chin tightly. “Spit.”

Without a single protest, he obeys, a single string of saliva connecting his lips to your hand, before you’re reaching down and palming his cock. He lets out a gasp as you wrap your fingers around the base, spreading the dampness and pumping a few times for good measure, as if the mixture of his spit and your own arousal coating your pussy isn’t lubrication enough.

You take the condoms out and help Jisung slide one onto his cock, chuckling when he places his hand over yours to help quicken the process. And then you’re finally guiding him into your entrance, circling one leg around his body and caging him into your fantasies.

“Fuck—”

Jisung enters you as you both collectively moan out loud, him at how tightly your cunt clenches around him and you at how wonderfully his dick curves into you, hitting your sweet spot inside each time. Jisung cups your face as he kisses you again, but this time, it’s slower and more drawn-out, a vast juxtaposition to how rigorously he thrusts into you. You drag your nails down his back in a way that’s sure to leave marks for days to come, but he just increases his pace on your aching pussy, lost in pleasure.

You grip Jisung’s ass and squeeze at the flesh, eliciting a throaty groan from him as your sweat combined creates a sticky layer between your bodies. Your breasts are pressed against Jisung’s chest, and he ducks his head to attend to them, licking and sucking at your sensitive nipples. The heightened attention goes straight to your sweet pussy, making you buck your hips as you hold him even tighter.

“Oh god— I’m fucking— I’m gonna come—” Jisung chokes out, his movements now erratic and even more rushed, if possible.

“Not yet.” You just laugh cruelly, shaking your head. “You’re going to wait. I’m first.”

“I— I don’t think I can—”

“Suck it up like the little bitch you are, and make me come again,” you snarl, digging your nails into the arch of his ass.

He cries out, and for a brief lapse in time, you think he will not be able to outlast you, but then he slides his hand down, rubbing frantic circles onto your clit. The attempt to get you off a second time works, and the orgasm washes over you like a cool breeze in the summertime. You can’t help what escapes you next.

“HYUNJIN!”

“Did you just—”

You clench your jaw and give Jisung a menacing look, warning him of a topic that should not be broached under any circumstances. Luckily, your harsh expression just seems to spur Jisung on even more, and he follows you into ecstasy not long after, squirming in your hold. When he finally finishes, hot spurts of him coat your pussy and trembling thighs.

For a moment, Jisung slumps against you limply, and you let him, enjoying that blanket of heat and protection against your exposed skin, another gift you’ve never been given before. But then you remember that’s all he is to you— a body that has warmed you up for one night. You don’t feel guilty though, because you never did offer more than you could actually give.

You pat Jisung’s back, prompting him to draw back and give you a fucked-smile. His bangs are plastered against his forehead in a sweaty mess, and his skin is tinged pink from his great efforts to please you. It’s a sight that you’ll be tucking away in your memories for any future lonely nights.

After putting your blouse back on, you walk over to the sink as Jisung just stays leaning against the wall. Wetting a paper towel with some water, you run it between your thighs and clean up the remnants of Jisung’s come smeared there. And then you pull your skirt down and help Jisung, because no matter how you don’t see him as more than a fling, he is still significant to you. He’s the first person to make you come and show you that physical care that you’ve been craving for so long, and that amounts to something. Besides, you’d never just toss someone aside after using them so intimately, not like your ex did with you.

You get a fresh towel for Jisung, placing it against his forehead to cool his heated skin while assisting him in putting his clothes back on. When you both are completely dressed, you place a chaste kiss on Jisung’s lips and give him a small smile, before turning for the door.

“I’ll be on my way now, Han Jisung.”

Jisung leaps forward quickly, grabbing your head before it can reach the doorknob. “Hey, I know you said this was just a one-night, but can’t we maybe get dinner or something?”

“Jisung.” The plain name is still sour on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “We aren’t going to work. This isn’t going to happen again.”

“Wait. Are you just, like, crazy edging me right now?”

Shaking your head, you let out a tired laugh. “No, I’m not. Look, I think you’re a really nice guy. I’m sorry for how I treated you at the party last week. You definitely didn’t deserve that, and I definitely still need to resolve my own issues. I’m sure there’s some other sexy lady out there just waiting to dom your pretty face off. You deserve better than me.”

You leave Jisung speechless, finally getting out of the bathroom. You have a very important meeting tomorrow, one that you absolutely cannot miss. Besides, he really does deserve better than you, someone who definitely doesn’t make his whole life an enigma. Someone who doesn’t have the same impact on him as Hyunjin does on you.

And in your post-coital clarity, you also finally accept that there will be no compromising with your feelings for Hyunjin. You’re falling in love with him, so much that even when another man is balls-deep in you, he’s all you can think of. It’s so profound that it hurts, the thought of never being able to fuck him into oblivion like you just did with Han Jisung. You can never have those nights with him in dirty bathrooms, or the ones tangled up in bedsheets for hours at an end. Late night conversations about the banalities of life and playful interviews about where he buys his amazing clothing will never be yours. You’re playing a dangerous game, ignoring your feelings like they’re a hazy insect that will eventually buzz away. Because you know they won’t. They’ll come back to sting you.

As you beeline for the bar exit, you run straight into Yeonjun, who seems to have been waiting for you all along. And by the looks of the Cheshire grin on his face, he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

“I knew his dick was big.”

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“So… want to talk about last week?”

“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug, toying with the hem of your dress. It’s green, a new look from the various shades of pinks that you donned whenever visiting Hyunjin. The change doesn’t feel refreshing— really, it’s restricting and strange, somehow. Like it doesn’t belong on you.

Hyunjin sighs, getting up from his fancy chair to sit down next to you. So understanding, so caring, so gentle. Everything you don’t deserve and that you will never have. “Darling, please. Open up to me.”

You snap, looking at him directly. “I had sex with Han Jisung.”

Closing your eyes, you lift your up palm, effectively silencing whatever you know that Hyunjin was about to say. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. You have to mend the cracks before you break completely. Again. It’s now or never, no matter how much it will hurt you to do so.

“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”

«NEXT CHAPTER» · «GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

AUTHOR'S NOTE Here she is!! We're 2/5 of the way there 💪 Thank you for all of the love for this series! And again, I apologize for the atrocious wait-time. Please leave your thoughts, I don’t really mind if you leave a whole essay ;) -Dreamy

TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna ***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***

If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!

NETWORKS @kflixnet @k-films

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

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peterspinkrobe · 9 months

Text

Miguel, Noir, Peter B x A new spider recruit (F)

Rating/Tags: M for MATURE. 18+. Adult content henceforth. 🔞Three p’s and one v. P in V. Fellatio. Some spanks. Assplay (no anal penetration). Voyeurism. Light bondage. Cunnilingus. Overstimulation (it’s 3 v 1 y’all idk what else is expected). Bodily fluids. Dirty talk makes up most of the dialogue. The dudes do some stuff too. ❤️ Aftercare ❤️ one shot

A/N: I got the prompt from this tweet and wanted to give back to the artist who requested it. There is Spanish in this fic - the artist helped me with the translations soooo much as well and I am forever grateful.😭 English translations at the end. This is my first smut piece, okay? So go easy on me. There is a smidge of plot if you’re really looking for it - I know I put it somewhere around here…

Summary: New recruit for the Spider Society finds herself in a sticky situation with three mentor spideys.

Word Count: 4,660

I’m gonna stfu now and let you read some filth. As always, let me know what you think and thanks for reading.

A dim, neon orange glow emitted from various screens in the large office. Sounds of connecting flesh and obscenities bounce off the walls and echo towards the high ceilings. The new recruit for the elite Spider Society found herself tangled in a particularly intense training that definitely wasn’t in the recruit handbook.

This particular lady spider, from her own universe, traveled through space and time to become a better protector of her neighborhood. She wasn’t sure how these exercises could possibly translate into her line of work saving lives, but she knew exactly how she’d gotten into this position. Well, one of many she’d already been put into.

It was her silly quips. The downfall of most in the Spider Society. The new spider showed a lot of progress in the short time they’d been recruited and had been tasked to go on a mission with the big boys.

It was easy work, the more matured spiders swinging and kicking ass effortlessly. Their personalities shown through in their fighting styles

Peter was loud about it. Of course. Screaming war cries and hitting hard, but holding back. Using insults to hit ‘em where it really hurts a villain: their ego. Miguel seemed cat-like, pouncing and clawing. An occasional roar of frustration would burst through his gritted fangs. Noir was stealthy, and silently snuck up on unsuspecting suspects. His dialect from past times confused the new spider more than Miguel’s Spanish, but it sounded ‘snazzy’ either way.

After wrapping up the mission, the four of them exchanged normal post-fight banter. It was one phrase that made the men stop in their attacks:

I could take all three of you at once.

She’d inadvertently added a qualification to her spoken resume and they were putting it to the test.

The room spun around the dizzy spider trying to steady herself on the large couch cushions. It was in vain, though, for she wasn't going anywhere the hands on her body didn’t make her go. She was stuffed and didn’t think she could hold anything else inside her. Even air. She resorted to the shallow gasps that her body involuntarily released in brief moments of reprieve and breathing through her nose when possible. She moans a string of different names barely recognizable through the mumbling and spit coming out her mouth. Not to mention Peter B’s cock slipping between her lips, a lazy, languid pump into her mouth as his hand caresses her hair. He’d pull out when she tapped on his thigh twice or he wanted to see the strands of saliva droop from his swollen tip connecting to her puffy lips.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice is sweet in juxtaposition to their lewd position, “look at me”. His other hand cupped her chin and pulled her face to look up at him. His slender fingers moving to the side of her face, rubbing his thumb on her cheek. His baby blues watching as her face pushes into his palm from the force behind her.

“Our little spider looks so good like this, doesn’t she?” Peter B was a talker in bed. Duh. The man was a talker in general. His words, no matter how filthy, came out casual and playful. “Taking the both of us so well in her pretty holes.” The vulgarity mixed with the free and easy tone made her pussy squeeze around Miguel’s cock, causing a quick strike on her bent over ass. The stinging cheek was immediately pawed by his large hands.

“Mhmm..” Miguel grunted, not much for words in the bedroom. His sexual language involved less talking and more touching, spanking, and grabbing. “Está apretadito…riquísimo…” When he did speak, he slipped into his native tongue because his mind slipped too. No time for translation as he drove himself into her, hands grabbing her hips. “me vuelves loco” he panted.

His large hands grabbed her ass, making her moan again up at Peter. He thumbs her wet folds and grips tightly - watching as she stretched out on his thick dick with each thrust of his hips. One of his thumbs ghosts across her other puckered hole, rubbing her own slick across the tight entrance.

“Te voy a comer ese culo.” Before she can form any sort of protest, Miguel pulls out without warning. The sudden emptiness made her clench on air and push back against him as a complaint. His hands never left her body and he let her push herself back onto his tongue. She cried out in surprise and pleasure as Miguel hardened his tongue and licked into her dripping pussy. The tongue was quickly replaced by two calloused fingers that pumped and spread inside her already fucked out cunt. His lips latched around the tight pucker of her ass, tongue swirling. Her breathing ragged as the little spider moaned against the bushel of hair above Peter’s still long cock. All she could do was press her face against his belly and arch her back.

“Ooooh, no, you don’t get to have all the fun, Miggy.” Peter chuckled, fucking chuckled down at her as he continued petting her hair. He slipped his thumb into her mouth and he smiled sweetly when she wrapped her lips around the finger. She couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out her throat as she slobbered on his inquisitive thumb that rubbed the inside of her cheek.

The mouth attached to her released only to growl against her sticky flesh, “Shut up, Peter.”

The giggle upset Miguel; here he was eating ass and she was paying more attention to the skinny nerd at her front. He added another finger and grazed his sharp teeth against the sensitive skin. Shivers shot up her spine and she rolled her eyes in pleasure and annoyance.

Only one coherent thought formed in her hazed mind: the grown ass man we’re even competitive in the bedroom.

Peter didn’t shut up.

“Hey, Noir,” Peter casually tossed the words to the side but kept his gaze on the flushed face and closed eyes that pressed against him. His heavy lidded gaze grazed along the curvy body beneath him as the spider in training rode Miguel’s tongue. He brushed away sweaty strands stuck to her forehead so he could see her pretty lashes. “You ever gonna get in on this? Or are you just going to keep watching from over there?”

Shame had almost escaped the woman stuck between getting rocked and a hard place. She’d taken the tip of the chatterbox’s cock back into her mouth and that silenced him momentarily.

She looked over at the black-clad figure she’d almost forgotten with her lips pouting over the redden head of his friend. He hadn’t made a sound this entire time. Embarrassment eked into her already flushed cheeks as she imagined what a scandalous sight she was to the spider from days gone by.

The man seated on the chair opposite the couch was dangling his arms over bent knees. Noir was still masked, one of the few Spidermen to actually try and maintain a secret identity, and the charcoal colored mask looked from one end of her to the other. He was staring intently at her face at one point, the protruding eye sections reflecting their bodies moving on the couch.

Noir then approached the spread spider and adjusted the protruding lenses of his masked eyes as if they were gasses. His head tilted in intrigue as he heard the deplorable slurping sounds from both ends of her body.

He brings his head to hers, Peter’s cock is inches from his face but he ignores it to intently watch the way her lips wrap around the other Spider-Man’s fingers.

“How ya doin’, buttercup?” His husky voice breathes into her ear. She can’t muster a response other than a shaky nod of her bobbing head and sputters of mewls. The swiping of Miguel’s tongue and approving praise from Peter took up too much of her mind space to formulate any sort of actual reply.

Noir sighed, almost like he was unsatisfied with the reply. He stood and put his hands on hips.

“Fellas… call me old fashioned, but” he glanced at the two men who seemingly ignored the grayscale spider’s intrusion, “You’re both doing this wrong if you’re really tryin’ to shake the shingles off this shack.”

The weird wording made the bundle of naked spiders freeze and lift an eyebrow in unison. Miguel pulled away from her ass and pussy and Peter did the same with the fingers in her mouth. She would’ve buckled had she not been pancaked.

“What the hell do you mean I’m doing this wrong?” Miguel and Peter both responded, offended. The breathless spider couldn’t see the exchange of winks and grins that happened because they were still smushed against Peter’s tummy.

“Hands, legs.” Noir instructed and the trapped spider found themselves pulled up and pressed firmly against Miguel’s chest with their hands clasped together. His large hand grabbed her ankle, a single claw grazing the thin skin there. Another muscled arm snaked around her waist and held her. His strong back supported their bodies against the plush arm of the couch.

She groaned when she realized Peter had slipped a web shooter on and had used them to hold her hands together. Another quick spurt from the smirking man made her arms stick loosely to her chest, just in case. He was always so careful.

But she didn’t mind being confined as long as someone would fucking touch her.

A tiny yelp makes Peter giggle in his relaxed position sitting on the couch head propped against the wall- taking a momentarily step back, but not taking his eyes off the spider caught up in their web.

Noir had snuck in front of her and had his face inches from hers. When Miguel felt her flinch in his grip he huffed a chuckle.

“You both were forgetting to press buttons.” Noir’s fingers cupped the underside of her exposed tits and he flicked his gloved thumbs over her nipples. He was maneuvering skillfully around the bound limbs.

More moans came out, she was finally getting these new set of hands on her. He went to pull up his mask and she kept her eyes glued to his face to finally see what he looked like.

Slate-gray skin was beginning to peek from the curling of the mask, but he shined a wicked gray and pearly white grin when he kept the mask just above his nose. He’d only exposed his jawline and lips, but it was enough to make the little spider’s breath hitch.

His unmasked mouth wrapped around one of her perked nipples and kept pinching the other between his fingers. The gentle sucking sounds made her quiver.

Noir then moved so he was crouched right between her legs, covered eyes taking in the sight of her drip. She noticed his passionate gaze even behind the mask and spread her legs to allow a better view. This earned a grunt in her ear from Miguel who pressed his still hard cock into her back, a soft coo from Peter watching who continued petting her hair, and an approving smile from the striking inky gradient enigma of a man before her.

“Oh, what a piece of honey…” Noir continued in his near century old slang. He took a gloved finger and ran it along the gooey length of her folds, the delicious stripe of friction on her pussy lips made her buck her hips. He stuck the wet finger in his mouth and sucked the leather. “Taste good, sweet spider. Makes me wanna take a bite out of your pretty donut.”

Her eyes roll back at the flattery and Noir speaks again, addressing the two other men, “You forgot a crucial component, pals… the rose bud.”

His tongue instantly found the flower he mentioned and she saw stars. Her clit had been untouched at this point. Not that everything up to this point hadn’t been fucking amazing, but the way the skillful mouth below her expertly tongued and suckled her neglected clitoris made her writhe and wail in ecstasy.

Thank god Lyla had been disconnected because there could be no recording of the blubbering mess the tasty spider became with Noir’s mouth attached to her pussy.

With all the teasing, pounding, and sucking beforehand, the stimulation of the bud of nerves between her legs brought her close to the edge within moments. Noir looked back up at her face and his tongue poked out his sinful smile. He could tell by the way she started thrashing in Miguel’s hold that she was about to crack her marbles. He lapped at her drooling pussy eagerly.

Miguel hissed through gritted teeth at his painfully hard cock. He situated his large body by squatting on the leg closest to the corner of the couch while the other planted firmly on the ground. He grabbed himself and lined it up with the flailing spider in his arm. His other hand came from its grip around her ankle just to grip on her hip. “Fuck, hold still.” Miguel’s tip pushed against her trying to find the spider’s slick slit. It grazed Noir’s chin and neck but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grabbed Miguel’s dick and guided it into that sticky honey pot. He focused more on the clit as Miguel pumped inside her. Miguel’s moans were loud in her ear with the combined sensation of the tight wetness and Noir’s tongue ghosting the top and sides of his driving dick.

Peter watched in awe, his mouth agape at the alluring sight below him. His hand had a hard hold around the base of his cock, as he squeezed more precum seeped out his blushed tip. He moaned at the sight of Miguel’s cock drilling into the tight pussy and the sounds from the fucked spider as Noir’s mouth encased her clit. Much like Noir, Peter’s tingles were telling him she was close.

“You want to cum for us? You should…” Peter asked and suggested in his playful tone. His oral affixation was apparent as he thumbed the inside of her mouth again. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

“Quiero que te vengas en mi verga, arñita”, Miguel grumbled into her ear.

“Mmhmmm.” Noir tried to concur, but his mouth was a little busy. The vibration of his voice against her clit and all three men urging her brought her to that high place.

She cried out their names in no particular order just whatever came out first. She gyrated her shaking body down on Miguel’s pounding cock and Noir’s tongue. Miguel’s movements became feverish causing Noir to pull back, giving her clit some space to breathe after the oral abuse. Peter moved his hand to Miguel’s hair and pulled his head back to look at his face, reminding him to go easy on that pretty push. It was hard for he was nearing his own orgasm, but he slowed to a more delicate pace. The convulsion of her cumming cunt around his cock was too good to pull out of just yet, but Noir spoke out breathlessly.

“I gotta get a taste of this cookie, boss.” He pleaded with the man who currently had her in his grasp. She should’ve hated how they were talking like she wasn’t there at times but she was riding her high and couldn’t be bothered to bicker. She stared through half-lidded, glazed over eyes as Noir pawed the tent in his pants.

“Did you stretch her out for me?” Noir asked as he undid his pants buckle and released a grayish cock as long as Peter’s and as thick as Miguel’s. She moaned as she was coming down from the clouds, eagerly wanting to try this new toy.

Miguel huffed and quickly wrapped his arms under her knees and lifted her effortlessly. His cock rudely pulled out of her and he spread her legs so that Noir could get a better view of the contracting, messy hole. Peter craned his neck so he could see as well.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he said to no one in particular from his perch. He had started pumping his cock as he watched her orgasm.

Noir admired the site up close and licked the fucked out hole causing the spider to shake. She was blushing from all the eyes and attention on her in her exposed state, but they were all looking in amazement.

She pouted and when Noir saw both sets of her puckered lips he wasted no time placing the thick tip of his uncut cock at the gaping entrance of her gooey hole.

“Now, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to tell me if it’s too much, but I think you can handle it. You’re going to do that again for me.” He pushed himself into her full flush easily with the help of Miguel’s propped arms holding her up. Her mouth formed a silent scream and she tossed her head back when he picked up the speed.

Miguel moaned and his still hard cock pressed against her ass cheeks in this position. “Que culo..” he mused as he slid his cock to line up with the wet folds of her cheeks. He started slowly fucking between her cheeks until his tip hit Noir’s pumping cock.

“Oh, fuuuck, baby girl..” Peter admired her body as he picked up the pace on his own strokes. “Can you take another? Please?”

He begged as he brought his cock back to her lips, biting his bottom lip hard and groaning when, instead of replying, she desperately took him into her mouth, eager to be completely full.

Peter thought he had the best seat in the house with his dick in her mouth and the sight of Noir and Miguel ravaging her body. He talked more and more as he got closer to cumming.

“You’re taking us so good. Such a good girl. You should see yourself. Look so sexy when you’re filled up.”

Noir kept his speed and force consistent when he surprised the spider again by rubbing his thumb just above her clit. He captured her lips with his own and she breathed her heavy moans into his mouth.

She was back to struggling for air with most of her holes plugged. Miguel’s thickness running between her legs offered a new feeling of friction while Noir’s length was taking some getting used to. Peter didn’t move his hips in caution of overwhelming the overloaded woman taking him in her mouth so well.

“Cum for me. Again.” He gently urged. The three other spiders all moaned in unison at Noir’s word for they were all on their brink. He chuckled, “all of you. Let’s fill this baby up.”

The idea of filling her pussy up with his load made Miguel’s hips snap quickly until he was spilling all over her ass, pussy lips, and leaking onto Noir. The thumb on her clit and the sounds of the man below her brought her back over the edge again. The pornographic imagery, sounds of a heated Miguel, the alluring control Noir had over them, and the split spider’s orgasms brought him to his own climax. He tried to pull out her mouth but she wrapped her lips around him tightly and he cried out as he came. He was talking again in seconds.

“Fuuuck, so sexy.. taking it all in like that.”

Noir took it all in with a grin. Feeling Miguel’s sipperly spunk mixing with the delicious drool he was driving into. A little bit of Peter B’s butter spilled out of the split spider’s mouth and Noir swiped at it with his gloved thumb before presenting it to her to suck on. The sounds only encouraged him to pump harder. “I wanna paint this cabin, doll. Can I?”

Noir tapped gently on the bundle of nerves that were on fire with the question, causing the spread spider to spaz in the hold of the three others.

The spent spider thought nothing, only felt. Sensation was the only presence in her consciousness as Miguel slid his slowly shrinking dick between her thighs and plump cheeks. Peter’s praise echoed from one ear to the other making her blush more than the promiscuous positions she’d been put in this evening.

He had her right where he wanted her - how he’d been picturing her since he met her for the first time: Whimpering and shaking on the verge of implosion.

Noir’s imagination painted an inky image of the next time with this ripe peach. His grayscale vision pictured them alone in all the ways he wanted her. The thought nearly made him burst and paint her insides instead.

Until he pulled out and jerked himself twice before cumming all over the spent spider’s tummy and tits. His audience of three all moaned with him as sticky ropes shot over the smooth skin of her abdomen.

Senseless spider still had her legs hiked up and she hung her head to the side towards Peter who was massaging her scalp and murmuring sweet nothings towards the group. Miguel’s heavy breathing was coming down as he gently lowered her onto the couch and easily slipped from behind her, regretting it the moment her body wasn't pressed against his own. Miguel used one of his claws and cut through Peter’s webbing and carefully pulled it from her, placing her arms by her sides.

Noir marveled at her in this state. Fucked out and smothered with lovin’. He helped Miguel lower her legs and eased their bent and spread joints. He rubbed along the length of her leg and said something to his boss unheard to the mewling spider on the couch.

They left the room shortly after, but she didn’t notice.

Only aware of the aching she felt… not from the intense session, those stings wouldn’t be felt until tomorrow, but from the emptiness inside her and lack of body support she had just moments ago. She had leaned on their strong scaffolding entirely and now slumped from their missing support. Peter’s hand in her hair kept her grounded as she

Her eyes blinked open slowly and she was greeted with those baby blues smiling at her as Peter had perched himself beside her on the floor.

“You really did so good.” He examined her glistening face and body in its afterquakes of orgasm.

Puffy lips redden around the edges, matted hair, slumped body: what a site to behold. He felt lucky as he brought up his previously discarded shirt to clean her chest and belly. She started to push it away, the disheveled man didn’t have many clean clothes to begin with, but he simply leaned to kiss her forehead and continued to wipe up some of the mess made.

“You took such good care of us, sweetie,” his voice was slightly raspy but still flirtatious, “it’s our turn to take care of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Miguel and Noir returned to the room, they were met with the sight of a lightly sleeping spider and their counterpart stroking her hair and smiling at her.

Miguel suggested they let her sleep, get her strength back, but Noir was insistent.

“This is the most important part, boss.” Noir asserted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sleepy spider was coming to again swaying slightly in the arms of the tallest in the trio walking down the short hallway.

“Bella Durmiente,” Miguel cooed. He had been watching her face as he carried her to the bathroom in his large office and when her lashes parted and fluttered open to look up at him his chest tightened.

“Such a cutie, even when she snores.” Peter beamed over Miguel’s shoulder as if he were carrying a kitten in his cradled arms.

Miguel carried her into the bathroom and she looked around at lights moving on the walls. It wasn’t tricks of Miguel’s futuristic decor, but rather several lit pillar candles flickering and casting soft shadows of the four of them.

The new recruit had fully come down from her delirium from earlier, but more flush came to her face as Miguel placed her into a clawfoot tub. It was huge. It had to be to house the large man that was sinking her into the shoulder deep water.

The bath was so warm. Hot even. It wasn’t too hot for her though as she awkwardly grabbed the edges of the tub, even though Miguel was oh so careful. Heaps of bubbles rounded the edge and she focused on the fizzling I ward off the feeling of three sets of eyes on her.

Miguel’s hands returned to her body as he rested on his knees beside the tub. He had already saturated a soft wash cloth in soap and was gently rubbing it on her skin, starting with her painted abdomen. He was reaching towards her lower half when his brows furrowed slightly in concentration on her face, watching her reactions. He barely patted her sensitive inner thighs with the rag but pulled away when she winced.

“Lo siento, arañita.” Miguel remorsed. She responded softly, saying she was fine.

“You really took a beating, dollface,” Noir agreed. He’d taken the knee himself at the end of the tub. His gloves were off, sleeves rolled up, and with surprisingly soft hands he reached into the bubble bath and rubbed the swooning spider’s feet. “You sure you okay, sugar?”

She responded by shyly nodding and sinking her head under the water down to her nose, her eyes moving from each man’s face. She saw that Peter had mirrored the others’ posture and positioned himself at the head of the tub. His chin rested on his arm laid out on the tub’s rim. His other arm reached out and idly traced circles on the surface of the water. He had grown uncharacteristically quiet while watching the peaceful scene unfold in front of him.

She poked her mouth out the water and timidly said, “You guys don’t have to do all this, I can bathe myself…”

She wasn’t uncomfortable, just not used to this kind of care and attention. Especially three fold. Moments ago she was nearly shameless in her entanglement of limbs and fluids. However, this was treatment that was normally forgotten or shrugged off at the end of a long session. She could handle the smacks and fingers grabbing and leaving small bruises. Intimate connection was a whole different level of consideration she simply didn’t know how to react to.

The three men ignored her as they continued their self-delegated duties. The silence wasn’t unnerving but actually tolerable and she felt herself slipping again at the pampering pressing on the pads of her feet.

The large hands lifting limbs and reaching to cleanse her completely calmed her body that had been thrashing not too long ago.

The usual quips from the mouthy spider had been replaced with sweet pokes at her cheeks and shoulders followed by giggles from them both. They playfully splashed each other. Even though the brooding one rolled his eyes at the clothes he just changed into getting wet, he wished he could record the moment and have it on a loop for those especially difficult days protecting the multiverse.

The black-clad spider pressed along the sweet spider’s feet once more before blending into the background again. The glimmering candles quickly swiped from his era framed his silhouette as he retreated a moment.

He returned with a towel in one hand and a certain pink robe that had been tossed to the ground in the fun from before in the other hand. He smiled softly behind his mask at the scene in front of him: sweet spider back to smiling and laughing.

He nodded to himself in pride.

The most important part.

🕷️🕸️🕷️

__________ __________ __________ __________

Spanish translation (THANK YOU AGAIN @ejpuki on Twitter and my cousin lol):

“Está apretadito…riquísimo..” (she’s so tight,… so fucking hot)

“me vuelves loco” (you drive me crazy)

“Te voy a comer ese culo.” (going to eat that ass)

“Quiero que te vengas en mi verga, arñita” (I want you to cum on my dick, little spider)

“Que culo..” (that ass)

“Bella Durmiente” (Sleeping Beauty 🥹)

“Lo siento, arañita.” (I’m sorry, little spider)

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman noir #peter b parker #across the spiderverse #atsv smut #priest!Miguel was NOWHERE near this okay??#smut #female reader #3 v 1 #I think I could take ‘em #not in a fight

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burning-omen · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 9: Detective x Criminal + Spider-Noir

Spider-Noir x male reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 10

Summary: He’s playing mind games with you, you know he is.

Warning: reader is the Black Cat of the universe, getting tied up, lowkey cringe villian reader but it’s like the 1940’s so they get a pass cuz it’s a little camp, breaking and entering, stalking, reader being naked, no smut (during kinktober? shocking I know)

You didn't like being tied up. Well, maybe. Just not in this context. You prided yourself on having never been caught, but as you are now, your arms bound to your sides, hanging upside down from a lamp post, you could feel that pride going down the drain. Glancing over you could see a few of the guys that were helping you rob some high-end jewelry store.

You usually worked alone, but the owner of the store was friendly with the police and if anyone was going down for this one, it'd be them. That's what you had planned at least, before being captured by a familiar spider themed vigilante.

You could see his figure, shrouded in black, crouching down next to them, they were all tied together, back to back to back on the floor. You almost began to wonder why you were getting special treatment, then you remembered your claws and the chase that lead to you being in this position in the first place. He considered you a threat. Which made sense, considering what you'd done to the front of his little suit. You had just barely missed him, only able to swipe at the vest he wore beneath his coat before the chase began. Still, it cut through as though you were swiping at air, you figured that he would rather not find out what they felt like cutting through flesh.

It was a while before he came to you, crouching down so that he could meet your eyes. Despite being upside down and having his face covered by a mask.

“Cat,” he said sternly.

“Mr. Spider-Man.” you returned with a grin, “you caught me.”

“So I did, ‘ that mean you're gonna comply?”

“Not a chance.”

A careful, slow breath left the man. Coming in closer, he spoke again.

“Those guys already gave you up, Cat, you really think you can get out of this one?”

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to before another large grin broke out on your face.

“I can get out of anything. So what if these low lives try to pin this whole thing on me, I've got a few things they don't that absolve me of any blame,” you said confidently.

He let out a low laugh, just for a second before asking,

“And what's that?”

“Well I've got a secret identity, I've got an alibi-” you paused for a moment, flexing your clawed fingers before continuing, “and, unlike those guys, I got away.”

Without sparring a moment you shredded the binds, effectively freeing yourself, twisting onto your back to keep yourself from banging your head on the concrete below. You were on the ground for less than a second before you were on your feet again and breaking into a sprint, you didn't check to see if he followed you, scaling up the side of a brick building and running along its roof before jumping to the next one, then the next, then the next until you felt tired, sliding to a stop.

~~~~~~

As you landed on the window sill of your apartment, you decided definitively that you needed a long, long bath, despite the fact that you got away, you were still trapped by the Spider-Man. That was a step closer to prison than you'd ever like to be.

Sliding the window open you were greeted by your pitch black apartment, just how you left it. Despite the dark, you navigated flawlessly, making your way to the living room, walking towards your front door, and collecting the newspaper and mail off the floor, the mail slot in your door shining a small beam of light from the hallway.

Finally flicking on the light as you flipped through your mail, heading towards the kitchen. Leaning up against the counter as you muttered to yourself.

“Bills, bills, trash, rent-” you stopped on an invitation to an art exhibit, specifically a jewelry art exhibit, ‘displaying pieces new and old’, how wonderful. What was even better was the price of the tickets, nearly 300 each, you couldn't afford to go, not legally, but you’re sure that plenty of wealthy people with deep pockets and easily accessible wallets would be there, along with the jewelry itself. With a small smile, you set the invitation down on the counter, you could look at it again later.

Before you could even register what was written on the next envelope, a voice spoke from behind you- in a moment you would never admit to, you jumped, a small yelp emitting from you, your heart pounding heavily.

Turning quickly, you were face to face with Spider-man, leaning on the other side of the counter, the invitation you just set down in his hands.

“‘We humbly invite you, Shara Jamison, to the Exhibition of Art Through Jewelry on-’”

You quickly snatched the invitation from his hand, slamming it on the counter.

“Breaking into people's houses is illegal.” you said, glaring at the man.

“You left your window open”

Setting your mail down, you could feel the familiar feeling of irritation growing.

“Caught twice in one night, Cat, I think you're losing your touch.”

Walking past him and back into the living room, you tried to think of a plan, but as Spider-Man followed you- so close behind, your mind seemingly stopped working.

“I'm not losing anything, you're just stalking me, how would you feel if I followed you home, hmm, Mr. Spider-Man?”

He didn’t respond, turning, you saw him- once again, going through your mail.

“Will you stop that?” You snatched the stack from him and threw it on the couch.

Breathing out a frustrated sigh, you said,

“What do you want?”

“Y/n L/n.”

You paused, taking in a breath you said, “what?”

“That’s your name right? It's on all your- well, most of your mail.”

Resisting the deep urge to roll your eyes into oblivion you said,

“So what if it is?”

“So..” he started, “you've got no secret identity, no alibi, and no, you didn't get away.”

You tried not to react, in over 5 years of masked theft you've never been caught, not once, you've never even been a suspect, but here you were, quite literally out a places to hide, he knew where you lived, you didn't have friends so you had no where to lay low, he knew who you were, and he's even got you cornered in your own home.

“Good job, detective, you gonna take me to jail?” despite the playful tone you'd taken up, you were nervous, the police didn't like Spider-Man, but you’re sure they'd appreciate him bringing in a criminal like you.

“No.”

You didn't mean to sigh. You really wanted to remain unfazed, but god, you couldn't. You felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders by the same person who had put it there.

“Why not?”

He chuckled, “I like this, I like you, gives me something to do.”

You laughed, “This is why the cops don't like you.”

After a short pause he said, “Stay safe out there, Cat.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He left after that, through the same window he’d come through. Leaning against the window sill you watch him swing away. Your heart pounding in your ears as he disalearedcinyo the night.

You didn't sleep much that night, his words replaying in your mind over and over again.

‘I like this, I like you..’

You rolled over, pulling the cover up over your shoulders. You weren’t some toy made for his entertainment, you were a thief and a really fucking good one. His words shouldn’t be effecting you the way they were, you were enemies. You fought, hell you nearly slashed his chest open tonight. But he ‘likes you’, sure…

This was some elaborate ploy to get you to turn yourself in, you knew it was.

He was trying to play mind games with you, but you were better at them than he was.

~~~~~~

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been out, a new personal record on your part. Not stealing for two whole weeks! You patted yourself on the back, even through you skin itches and your fingers twitched every time you saw something valuable. But you couldn’t, you were playing the long game with the Spider-Man, you weren’t going to break character now.

You took the bus home from work, getting dropped off a few blocks from your apartment, it started pouring rain about halfway through your walk, soaking your clothes. You hated the rain. You knew it was going to rain, you could smell it in the air, and you could have stolen an umbrella from the rack in the break room, but that’s not what a good upstanding citizen does, so you suffered through the rain, dragging yourself to your apartment, up several flights hold stairs before finally reaching your apartment.

The pitch black scene was comforting, dropping your suitcase on the floor, hearing it thumb loudly. Peeling back layer of soaked clothes and dropping them into a pile.

You felt a million times lighter.

Heading to you bedroom, only flicking the light on when you were inside to find a change of clothes. Bundling them in your arms then flicking the light back off. Heading back to the living room you remembered the pile of wet clothes on the floor, flipping the light switch on, the living room illuminated quickly, everything was exactly as you left it. Well, except for the imposing black figure sitting on your couch. Spider-man. He was deadly silent, seemingly frozen. You stared at him, confused, before remembering the state you were in. Naked.

You weren’t shy, not even a little bit, but you definitely weren’t expecting to be nude in front of people, especially Spider-Man, who was seemingly shocked into silence.

“Breaking and entering is a crime, Spider-Man.”

Nothing.

“Really? You break into my house and you have nothing to say to me?”

Nothing again.

You sighed, walking over to the man, dropping your clothes next to him on the couch before plopping down yourself.

“Earth to Spider-Man? Can you hear me?”

He turned to face you.

“Y/n…” he muttered.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, “you're, um.. I just. I was-”

You nodded along to his blabbering, a teasing smile on your face. It took him a moment to figure his words out, but he got it eventually.

“I was...checking on you. You've been missing for a while now, I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt.”

“Well,” you gestured to your naked body, “as you can see, there's not a scratch nor bruise on me.”

He shifted in his seat, staring for a long moment before looking away.

You grinned, “what's wrong, detective, never seen a man naked before?”

He took a deep breath, then said, “I'm sorry, you should get dressed.”

You hummed, “No, it's fine, I'm comfortable.”

“Cat..” he practically whined.

“Fine, fine, I'll go. You stay here, don't move.”

You were going to use the clothes you gathered after taking a shower, but Spider-Man’s delicate sensibilities called for your immediate coverage.

So you went to your room, peeking out at him through the door, only to see him sitting there, stiff as a board, dressed quickly, and sat back down on the couch next to him as though you hadn't been naked minutes before.

“You going straight, Cat?”

You hummed, “Why would you think that?”

“You got a 9-5, you haven't been out at night, and your gang says you haven't returned their calls.”

“So what, you're stalking me now?”

He didn't respond.

It was kinda cute, he's been following you around, harassing your gang, and he broke into your house again, but seeing you naked is too personal. Poor thing’s got his morals in a twist.Maybe these weren't mind games, or some elaborate scheme, maybe he really did just like you, he wouldn't be the first to obsess over you and he probably wouldn't be the last.

Sighing, you said, “You don't have to worry, I'm quitting tomorrow.”

He turned to you quickly, “Really?”

“Yes, really, besides, I know a better way of making money.”

He paused for a moment, “You're coming back?”

“I was just taking a little break, you know I can't go straight forever. As soon as this rain stops I'm back to my old ways.”

He laughed, then relaxed back against the couch.

“You really missed me that much?”

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

You laughed, scooting a bit closer to the man.

“I missed you too, turns out regular people don't get to copulate with Spider-Man on a nightly basis.”

“That does not mean what you think it does..”

“What?” you grinned, “copulate? Would you rather me say fornicate? Conjugate? Philander? Closest?-”

“Do you just have a dictionary of words that mean sex?”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

“You are…awful.” despite the insult, you could hear the smile on his voice.

“You still like me though.”

He shifted, “I never said that.”

“Sure you did, right after you told me that you would never let those disgusting cops sully my perfect body with their cop hands.”

“I don't recall that one.”

“I do.” you smirked

It was a little odd, talking with Spider-Man in your own home, usually all of your teasings happened out on the streets. Not tonight though, as the rain poured down, you and the detective enjoyed a nice night in.

#x male reader #male reader #male!reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #male s/o #x male!reader #spider noir x male reader #spider noir x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader

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moumouton4 · 6 months

Note

PLEASE DI THE FREINDS WITH BENEFITS WOTH ADRIAN/CAHT NOIR🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 IM SO INTERESTED. maybe Adrian and reader like have a thing going on secretly and get give each other longing glances, like a have lidded gaze or something. Please my Curiosity is getting the best of me

Friends With Benefits || Adrien Agreste x reader

A/n : This is something I've been thinkg about since I started writing fics ! I hope y'all will like it 😍 It's gender neutral but I had a female in mind when I wrote

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader, friends with benetifs, slight exhibitionism, shower sex, wall sex, piano sex ?, rough sex, soft sex, mention of erection, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 910

There is definitely something going on between the two of you. Though no one seems to have noticed for now. There is only Marinette who is suspecting you, but she suspecting everyone so you know she isn’t a threat

He introduced you as a childhood friend but in reality you’ve only known each other for less than a year

You met one day as he was on his way back home as he was still in his Chat Noir outfit. He still had some time when he spotted you, so he decided to try his chance and talk to you

To his surprise you were as interested as he was. And even if at first he was a bit wary about letting you discover his true identity, after some time and because of how horny you were you just couldn't resist but jump each other’s bones

Since that day you’ve been friends with benefits. He’d come to you after a long day as a hero in Paris to release that pent up energy or after whatever the hell he did either it was for school or for his work

He is addicted to you, and you to him. You see each other at least once a week, it’s usually three or four times a week. Either at yours or at his home

Depending on how tired you both are you’re either going to fuck like you’ve never before or cockwarm him. It really depends. Sometimes he is more into making some cocky and teasing jokes, resulting in some giggly sex. But it’s also most of the time so intense it leaves you both breathless

One of his favorite thing is having you nice and slow in his bed, but sometimes fucking you against the tiled wall of his shower is everything he needs to finish his day smoothly

He also takes you on his piano

You’re always careful not to leave any bite or purplish mark on his skin in places that aren’t covered with clothes

He is shameless about leaving some on you though. You’re his and even if people don’t have this detail, they will at least know you’re taken

Poor baby is bad at relationship but he still want you for himself

You guys had had sex in a lot of unusual places. Either on the top of historical monuments like the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe but also on the roofs of buildings in the warm summer evenings. He’d set a blanket there and you’d cuddle some time before getting started

The tension between you two when you’re in the same room is unbearable, but since everyone think you’re friends, no one catch it

His eyes are always on you, piercing and following your every move as if he was in his cat costume. There is no part of you that is left unexplored. If your cleavage is in display his eyes are going to drown in between the tender flesh and if your pants leaves no doubt about the curves of your ass and thighs his eyes will be stuck on them too

If your sitting side by side his hand will surely caress your leg under the table

But most of the time - and since then you joined the class - the only thing he can do during those moments is to send you long and ardent gazes. You’re the only thing he is interested and attuned to at the moment

His eyes squint slightly as he gives you another longing glance. He feels so horny right now and the tent in his pants gives it all away. He has 45 more minutes to calm down before the end of the class

At the end of the class you go to your locker. Classes just ended and you just want to go home and lie down while chilling. The room is currently empty but behind you feel a hot breath grazing your neck. Then an arm circles your waist and draw you nearer

The smell of his cologne makes it clear for you that it’s Adrien. You lean against him and his strong arms hold you tighter

“‘missed you a lot in there” his fingers played teasingly with the help of your shirt “What about tonight 21:00 at yours ?” ( 21:00 = 9 pm )

“I’ll be waiting for you then” you whispered, so that if anyone was around they couldn't hear you

“I’ll be looking forward to this princess” he murmured before planting a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth

When you turned around he saw the smirk on your face “What is it about ?”

You pointed at the tent in his blue jeans

“Shoot !” he muttered “J-just get back home safely o-okay. I’ll take care of this” he looked around to be sure no one was in sight

“You sure ? I could lend a hand”

He blushed, shaking his head, he just knew that if you guys were to start something there you wouldn’t be finished at least an hour after the school closes “Yep I’ll be quick. See you later beautiful” he gave you a quick kiss before carefully making his way out and unnoticed of the locker room

At the end of the day ( pun unitented ) he got to your home 30 minutes earlier than intended

But it was all all the thrill of being his friend with benefits after all, a surprise was always hidden behind another

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zikkytheblicky · 3 months

Text

♡︎ you can call me zikky or any pet names if you prefer. I’m black and Jamaican— pronouns are he/him/they/them/theirs i’m transgender and bisexual !!

(REMAKE.)

⊹ FANDOMS ⊹

ও jjk (satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji zen’in, yuta okkutsu, kenjaku as geto, ryomen sukuna, masamichi yaga, kiyotaka ijichi, toge inumaki, aoi todo)

ꔛ csm (denji, aki hayakawa, kishibe, hirofumi yoshida, young kishibe)

✧ hazbin hotel (alastor, lucifer, angel dust, husk, sir pentious, vox.)

✦ astv (miles 42, hobie, miguel o’hara, spider noir)

⊹ demon slayer (tanjiro kamado, kyojuro rengoku, inosuke hashibara, sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui, giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, gyomei himejima, kokushibo, muzan kibutsuji, akaza, kagaya ubuyashiki, doma, gyutaro)

★ kpop groups (stray kids n SEVENTEEN)

(such little fandoms ik!! i don’t watch a lot of things/remember what i watch , sorry !!)

⊹ DNI LIST ⊹

-homophobes, transphobes, racists, antisemitics, zionists, trolls, isnotreal supporters, dsmp stans/fans, female readers (this includes SHE/THEY, SHE/HER, SHE/XE/THEY, etc.), people who sexualize itadori, sexists, pedophiles, rapists, sex offenders.

⊹ i WILL write

black male reader

feminine t!m/m reader chubby black male reader

trans black male reader

trans chubby black male reader

pre top surgery black male reader

pre top surgery chubby black male reader

pre bottom surgery black male reader

pre bottom surgery chubby black male reader

male reader

chubby male reader

Pre top surgery male reader

pre top surgery chubby male reader

pre bottom surgery male reader

pre bottom surgery chubby male reader

submissive t!m/m reader

switch t!m/m reader

feminine t!m/m reader

any kink besides body fluid ones and foot fetish

gay t!m/m reader

sugar daddy x sugar bby trope

any trope really except for those cringe ones like golden retriever x black cat idk those are just.. uhm. like just say introverted x extroverted trope if you really want that one!! (My op sorry.)

pet names , i love them. Except for those really.. cringe ones like "my little sugar waffle! " stop it. I will use different language ones too depending on the characters nationality.

fluff

smut

“ crack “

t!m/m reader with a core/style (any types of cores like aaliyah core for ex).

WILL NOT WRITE ⊹

any kink involving body fluids or foot fetish.

HEAVY angst (r@pe, HEAVY abuse, etc.)

m preg. Like i'll do the getting cummed inside of part but not the giving birth.. having kids.. like no sorry!! ( it makes me uncomfortable. )

mahito.

aged up characters

minors

fem readers (you guys tons of stories you'll be ok twin.)

✧ Thats it really i'll probs add more tho !!

⊹ i write in lowercase on purpose !! and sometimes space my punctuation (like this !! or this , or this . but i rarely space the period.)⊹

☆ if you’re black reader please inform about ur hairstyle/texture !! i don’t wanna accidentally just use the wrong hair texture/hair styler for you 💓.

request status: open ! ⊹

#male reader #x male reader #ftm reader #hazbin hotel #gender neutral reader #gn reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #black male reader #black ftm #chainsaw man #gay #astv #cod x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #könig x male reader #ghost x male reader #angel dust x male reader

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cheezbites · 8 months

Text

Master List

✎: The official CheezBite’s menu! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

★A/N: I love you spam likers so much, like you don’t understand. I really appreciate it, I will follow you guys back when I can!! <3

Call of Duty

(Ranges from fluffs to smuts or sometimes angsts, mostly head cannons though)

• Headcanons of Dating König

• Headcanons of Dating Ghost (🌸Most Notes)

• Price Picks Up On Your Habits

• How COD Characters Would Text

• Headcanons of Dating Soap

• Lemonade Kool-Aid (König)

• Headcanons of Dating Ghost PT.2

• Task Force 141 as Teachers

• König Being Aggressive to Rookies

• GhostFuck (Ghostface!Simon x f!reader)

• Headcanons of dating König PT.2 (⭐️ Personal Fav)

• Headcanons of Dating Gaz

• König x Ghost Headcanons

• COD Characters as Cats

• Headcanons of Dating Alejandro

• Bf!Ghost x Cat!Mom!Reader

Total Drama Island

(Chris McLean is so babygirl)

• Doing Chris McLean’s Makeup (🌸 Most Notes)

• Chris McLean As Your Ex (Pt. 1) (⭐️ Personal Fav)

• Chris McLean As Your Ex (Pt.2)

• Chris McLean x Civilian

• Chris McLean x Short Reader

• Dom!Reader x Sub!Chris McLean

• Dom!Male!Reader x Chris McLean

COD Skits

(Short sweet and funny, well… most of the time)

• Strawberry Jam

• I’m just joking! (🌸Most Notes)

• The Mask

• Necklace

• Beg For It

• Tea

• Can I tell you a secret? (⭐️ Personal Fav)

• Silly Goofy Mood

• I want to eat it…

• N O Spells No

• Cock and Ball Torture

• Know vs No

• ‘Broken Stove’

• One Word

• Dehydration Salvation

• Three… Two… Shit!

• Get a Hobby

• Bitch, What’s For Dinner?!

• 9 Lives

ITSV/ATSV

(This is mainly going to be Spider Noir content I can’t lie-)

• Headcanons of Dating Spider Noir

(Smut) Plot Ideas

(Where I’ll just post the most random and probably most horniest shit lmao)

• König/Ghost Push-ups (🌸Most Notes)

• König/Ghost Towel

• Ranking Tropes (⭐️ Personal Fav)

Drabbles

(Idk. I just be saying shit)

• Submissive Doggy König

• Sweet Moment w/ Gaz

Prompts

(Romanticising everything because I can and nothing is stopping me >>)

• Tired (🌸Most Notes) (⭐️ Personal Fav)

• Sad

• In love

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mlbigbang · 1 year

Text

2022 Marichat Fic Rec List

It's the end of the year which means it's finally time for the ML Big Bang's yearly fic rec lists! We're really excited to bring you our contributors' favourite fics from this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you're waiting for the Big Bang fics' publication in January.

Asking the important questions by @ultrakart 1,397 words, General, 1/1 chapter

After having returned home from Shanghai, Marinette and Chat Noir have some important questions for each other.

"Platonic Marichat shenanigans, resoundingly reminiscent of canon in the absolute best way."

final girl by @picayunearts 41,310 words, Teen, 10/10 chapters

Marinette has ninety-nine problems, and the superhero trio of Paris counts for a hundred. [AU where Marinette follows through on giving up her earrings after Stoneheart, but becomes the Guardian to protect her replacement.]

"This one floored me. Characterization is on point. I love the premise of Marinette giving up the miraculous and being guardian. Wonderfully executed in my opinion. And the writing. THE WRITING. :chefskiss:"

"Another amazing au. I love the take on "Marinette gives up on being Ladybug" and teh way it's written is chef's kiss."

Everything's Not Fine by @flightfoot 976 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

"Why’s mother down here? What- what is this?” “Still committing to the bit?” Gabriel snorted. “Really now, I thought you were smarter than that. Adrien was compelled to obey the order Nathalie gave via his amok - you would not have been.” “My WHAT?!” -------------- After the events of Risk, Adrien makes his way down to his father's secret lair. Gabriel catches him. Unfortunately, he cares even less about Felix than he does about Adrien.

"An alternative follow-up to 'Strike Back' that packs twist after twist after twist into a very short space, leaving you a little breathless as you read it and sorry that it didn't happen this way in the show."

The Dating App by leadernovaandthemacabre 14,960 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Chat Noir and Marinette cross paths on Paris’ newest dating app and keep crossing paths until secrets slip. - [MDC]: why are you here [OfficialChatNoir]: we matched! shall we go out for sweethearts ice cream? [MDC]: i’m blocking you [OfficialChatNoir]: wait wait marinette wait *[MDC] has blocked you*

"I loved the bonding between these too and how naturally everything flowed and how open they became with each other and aaaaa"

NSFW works

Patient is the night by @mostlymoony 72,243 words, Mature, 31/31 chapters

Beware the Cat Knight, he demands a price For this fallen prince, gold shall not suffice Fear the Cat Knight, as he trades life for life Cry pretty girls, for the cat needs a wife. When Marinette's small farming town is attacked by Hawkmoth's army of night creatures, Marinette rides for the dread Butterfly Castle, seeking aid from the mysterious Black Cat Knight and his band of masked fighters. She's determined to save her town, even if that means handing herself over to a strange man with wild, green eyes and a penchant for cat-related puns. There will be smut, and this is my first time writing smut. I'm so sorry.

"Such a good gothic romance/fairy tale vibe to it and I just found the plot/progression very enjoyable. The magic and world building is unique and vague enough to make it important but not overwhelming. They also made some great artwork for it!"

Pink Really is Your Color by @inkmousey 2,811 words, Explicit, 1/1 chapter

Marinette really hates that dumb Cat. Until he's pressing her against a wall and making her forget Adrien Agreste ever existed.

"It's amazing!!! So very amazing and it has a great dynamic that's great for Marichat!"

I’d Never Forget About You by @inkmousey 3,400 words, Explicit, 1/1 chapter

Adrien thinks everyone forgot about him on his birthday, and by everyone— he means the only person who ever remembers it anyway, Marinette.

"MariBlanc is such an interesting pairing and the fic handles them so amazingly!!!"

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ml fic recs #fic recs #ml big bang #ml big bang 2022

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kaepop-trash · 1 year

Text

Notorious: Act IV

Rated: 18+ ONLY, Smut, Neo-Noir, Femme Fatale, Undercover Agent, Criminal, Exes to "Lovers", Mutual Pining, Cat and Mouse dynamics but make it hurt.

Pairing: JaehyunxReaderxJohnny

Summary: Inspired by Notorious (1946), Ever since your father went to jail for an illegal arms trade, a lot had changed in your life. Your present was about living with a tarnished reputation, the only redemption being a strange man who you agreed to help get to the root of the same trade that ruined your family. Still, just as you were adjusting to that very man, your past came back to haunt you. The only part of your past that had ever been happy till it wasn't, a part you could leave behind but never forget. But if Johnny was your past and Jaehyun your present, what would your future be?

Chapter Summary: Johnny asks (Y/N) for a precious favour. Jaehyun is against it and she isn't too keen on it either. What do you do when your worst fears come true?

Warnings: Smut; Fingering, Penetration, unprotected sex; Strong themes of alchoholism, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, gaslighting. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE ASPIRATIONAL.

Word Count: 9.7k

(A/N): This took me a very long time because it was very heavy to write. Without getting too much into it, I just hope everyone can forgive me for being so inconsistent.

Act I | Act II | Act III

Taglist: @commentgirl @sadgirlroo @nak4m8to @babyksworld @milkyway-vxm @hwangfulok-blog

Johnny took her hand in his under the table, an old habit that she had just learned to live with by now. The immobility the gesture gave, made it hard to open the menu so she just leaned over to the side to peer into his.

(Y/N) could see his lips tug from the corner of her eye at the gesture as he brushed a kiss against her temple. When she turned, he gave her a pursed smile, eyes glimmering with the light that had slowly started returning in the past month. The same glimmer that made her fall in love with him once upon a time.

“You should get the shrimp pasta, they make it really well here.” His voice was soft. She had to look away to ignore the thumping in her chest, giving him a nod. He was happier lately, more than perhaps she could recall. The only time she could remember him being happier was the day he got on one knee in front of her.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of her thoughts with a harsh tug, “Sure, that sounds good.” She shrugged. “I’ll have that and a glass of rosé.”

“You’re not drinking.” He stated with a brisk finality.

“Why not?” She turned to give him a frown. “I want a glass of rosé.”

“You don’t need it though, sweetheart.” He lifted her hand, giving it a kiss. “It’s just a glass of wine.”

“Exactly.” She pulled her hand out of his, “It’s just a glass of wine that I want to pair my food with.

Johnny sighed, “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I appreciate it.” She spoke, clearly not meaning it. “I’m still getting myself what I want.

“(Y/N).” His voice was an impatient warning that he tried to soften with a sigh.

“Stop speaking.” She didn’t soften the warning in her tone. “You can’t make decisions for me.”

“Why are you being like this?” Johnny frowned, “I’ve noticed that you drink too much and I’m just concerned. Why are you making me sound like a villain?” He sounded hurt, brows furrowing.

She stared at him for a moment, feeling whiplash from how rapidly he made her feel nineteen years old again. She had to look away to curb her anger. She reminded herself that she wasn’t nineteen anymore and took a deep breath instead of just spitting her anger out at him. She was not going to make it easier for him.

“I’m not trying to make you sound like a villain. That was not my intention, I apologise if it sounded like that.” She surrendered, looking away and catching a waiter’s eye.

Johnny looked extremely confused from her admittance, forehead creasing for a second before he sighed and gave her a tight lip smile. Johnny had been ready for a fight. One where he could emerge as the martyr, as was his habit. And she was not going to make it easy.

“I just want what’s best for you.” He reasoned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hummed, looking up just as the waiter approached. When it looked like Johnny was going to reach for her hand, she busied it by reaching for her glass of water. Johnny didn’t say anything, neither did he make any further attempt to touch her. When the waiter asked if they wanted something to drink with their food, she said no.

“They have a raspberry pudding on the menu.” Johnny spoke for the first time once their plates were empty. "Should we order some?" He asked, speaking like he was walking on eggshells.

"Sure." She spoke, giving him a compliant nod. Johnny flexed his jaw, turning away from her to call a waiter. His forehead creased with clear markings of irritation. The audacity of it offended her, but she willed herself to keep her mouth shut and they finished their dinner in silence.

They made it back to his house like that, Johnny following behind her as they ascended the stairs that led to the living room.

"Why are you angry at me when I was just looking out for you?" He spoke just as she turned to go upstairs to the bedroom.

"Who said I'm angry?" She resisted the urge to frown.

"You are angry." He huffed.

She turned to him with eyes void of any emotion at all. "No I'm not.” She lied. “You just want me to be angry because then you can tell me how you were looking out for me and how I'm not justified in my anger."

Johnny looked a little caught off guard by the assessment, yet recovering in a beat. "I was looking out for you."

Sharp anger rose to her head from the repeated sentence. Like if he said it enough times, she'd somehow believe him. Or he’d believe himself.

"I know. And I am not angry. I said I'm sorry to you then. So why are we having this conversation?” She furrowed her brows, feigning confusion.

“I know you. I especially know your anger.” He injected.

“Was deciding what I'll consume not enough? Now you want to decide how I'm feeling?" The words slipped off her lips with increasing hostility, realising too late when Johnny's frown unfurled. He had trapped her.

"I thought you weren't angry." He took a step closer towards her.

"I'm not." She turned away from him, feeling like a child caught in a lie.

"I wasn't trying to control you.” He took a step on the stairs, coming around her to meet her gaze— and to tower over her. “I was just doing what someone who cares would." He tried to reason, tone still infuriatingly chastising.

"I didn't say you were controlling me." She said without bite, not looking up at him, adamant to not give him anything to use against her again. She knew how he fought, always ready to make himself the victim so she was left to be the perpetrator.

"In only so many words." He came closer, putting a hand over the one she had on the railing. "I just don't see why you drink all the time. You almost finished the whiskey I keep in the office." His tone changed and she tried to move away from the concern.

"I'll buy you more." She tried to go around him, stopping when he squeezed her hand to curb her ascend.

"You know that's not what this is about." His voice edged on a sense of betrayal. "I know things haven't been easy for you. Nobody knows that more than me. But this isn't the answer. Sometimes we need to face things instead of hiding behind temporary solutions."

She gripped her own jaw this time, tight me enough that her cheekbones ached.

"You're assuming too much." Her voice was low, a dangerous line where any louder would make the rolling fury in her erupt. "I'm not hiding." She turned to look at him, "I'm sorry my drinking concerns you. But I don't do it as a crutch." She defended herself, neither of them believing her words entirely.

Johnny looked like he was going to say something but he let go, leaning closer to kiss her brow instead.

"Let's not be like this. I don't want us to fight over every little thing like we used to." He mumbled against her, pulling away to give her a smile and pulling her hand away from the railing into his.

She didn't protest, giving him a nod that they both knew was half hearted.

That night (Y/N) went home. Johnny didn't say anything when she asked to be dropped to the apartment, he knew why. She always took time to be by herself when she was angry. He always told himself that it wasn't to be away from him, but to see the arguments with a much needed distance. He always told himself that she did exactly what he did. And he accepted it because out of all the times she left, it was only once when she didn't come back. He knew this time wouldn’t be the second.

A few days later he asked to meet her at a cafe on Copacabana. Without considering it a choice, she went.

"I'm getting an award." Johnny spoke first, taking the time to drink his coffee before doing so.

Her lips parted to silence, unsure about how to react. "For what?" She asked, swallowing after.

Johnny failed to bite down the smile at the corner of his lips, "Some business award. The company made good profits last year."

"That's great, Johnny. I’m so proud of you." She gave him a smile, weak despite her conscious effort.

"I want you to come with me." He added, stumbling over the words.

"Where would we go?" She questioned with a lighter tone. Johnny didn't respond immediately, instead avoiding her gaze and fidgeting with the handle of his small espresso cup. Realisation dawned on her, squeezing her lungs painfully. "No. I can't." She wanted to sound firm but her words came out a plea.

"It'll just be for three days. It'll be over before you know it. Just an evening of meeting a few strangers." He added with a soft look in his eyes.

"Johnny, I–" she tried to reason, to explain to him how he was asking the impossible of her. "Everybody will talk. Home is–" her words failed her again.

"I know." He reached across the table, grabbing her hand. "But I'll be right there with you. It's an important day for me, (Y/N). It's an important day for the business. So many of my father's family fought tooth and nail to break the company apart. They said I could never take on my father's mantle." His fingers squeezed her palm. Unintentionally, she noted.

"This award." His jaw flexed, "It's a product of every effort I put, everything I've sacrificed. It's proof that all of it was worth something in the end." His eyes clouded with some far away storm, mirroring the encroaching clouds above them. “For them, at least.”

He snapped out of it at the moment, looking at her with a soft smile, "Everybody else there will be an enemy or a stranger. I want you to be there. You're all I have."

His words made the pressure on her lungs shift to the cavity of her heart, pressing down with a punishing weight. There was nothing to say to such a heartfelt plea. It didn't matter that going back home was something that would bring her nothing good, not when the alternate was so heartbreaking.

She could picture Johnny standing there, receiving some mass produced trophy while apathetic and vindictive people all watched and clapped.

It also seemed to make her see how lonely he must have been all these years. All his achievements, small and big, as well as his failures passing by without a person to pat his back or lend their shoulder.

"Alright. I'll come." The way the simple gesture made his entire face light up did not make her feel good. These days she was found guilt becoming a chronic pain— one that bothered constantly but had bouts of intensity.

The Two Faces of Concern

“You can’t go.” He got off the sofa in a fury. “We don’t know what kind of people he associates with. We don’t know what could go wrong.” His brows fluffed up in fury, knitting together impossibly tight.

“I don’t have a choice.” She looked to the floor, confused and angered by his demeanor. “What am I supposed to say when he asks me to go with him for something so important?”

“You say you’ll think about it.” He added with an incredulous fury. “Then you come to me! And I we come up with an excuse for you.” His voice rose higher.

“That’s not going to work.” She needed to pause. After so many years, such constant bouts of anger felt unsettling to her. “You don’t know him. That’s why I’m here. Your boss gave me a task. To keep him close and to keep an ear out. I am doing exactly what I was told to do.”

“You can’t do anything if you’re dead!” He pointed his hand at her, his gesture and tone bordering on accusatory. He paused, taking a step back and swallowing. Jaehyun cursed under his breath, a hand coming to his waist while the other rubbed his face.

He walked a few steps around the room, trying to calm down it seemed, before coming back to her. This time he kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Listen to me.” He urged. “Look at me, (Y/N).” He practically pleaded. The desperation in his tone was the only reason she turned to face him. “I know that you think you’re safe. I know you believe you know this man because you knew him once. But you don’t know what he’s capable of. What he’s already done.” He sighed, no doubt understanding the stubborn refusal in her.

Jaehyun’s head dropped, looking defeated. “If something happened to you. I would never forgive myself.” He put a hand on her thigh. The way she turned to glare at it made him recoil. “You’re my responsibility.” He spoke after swallowing the hurt from her gesture. “I’m the sole reason you agreed to do this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She interjected. She thought the blow would make her feel good about herself. But seeing his face drop only tugged at her now sore chest.

“Why did you agree to go?” He asked, his eyes turning into frigid slits.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.” She repeated herself, each word uttered with a pause to emphasize.

“You always have a choice.” He threw his reciprocating blow with a featherlight tone. Her lips parted from offense, ready to defend herself. But he clarified, “I’ve been watching you. I’ve seen how you change around him.” His accusations cut through her like knives.

“And what change is that, pray tell?” She questioned.

“Your edges soften around him. You let him sway you with his words. You believe his lies despite yourself.” He assessed clinically, like a man whose job it is to read people.

“I feel sorry for him!” Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, “Surely you can at least try to understand how it must feel. And I'm always tiptoeing around him because your boss wants me to keep him happy!" She deflected the accusation, distantly wondering why she was getting so defensive.

“He’s devoted to you.” Jaehyun simply stated, looking away from her with a grimace.

"I know." She spoke around the lump forming in her throat at her own confession. "Which is why your caution is out of line."

"The more the devotion, the more betrayal he will feel eventually, (Y/N). Remember that when you're in a different country with him, out of my reach. When I can't save you if something happens." He cautioned still.

Maybe his words made her feel like a child, something she hated feeling, because her next words were self-admittedly out of line.

"I'm out of your reach every time I'm in his bed too, Jaehyun." The words were no louder than a pin dropping. “He could choked me to death while inside me and you wouldn’t know.”

Jaehyun got up in a huff that left a gust of air in it's wake. He turned away from her swiftly as she tried to push down the part of her that wanted to take the words back.

"When are you leaving?" He questioned, adjusting his clothes and distracting himself.

"Day after." She answered dispassionately.

"The least you can do is keep me updated on your whereabouts. The captain will need a report on it." He was already ready to walk away.

"Sure." Her response was the final task he had, taking long strides and shutting his bedroom door with a loud thud.

She sighed, the solitude allowing her to finally drop each pretense she had to keep up just to survive each day.

Tears were almost commonplace on her lashes now. Angry tears, frustrated tears, heartbroken tears and tears of defeat. But each fresh bout always left her feeling betrayed by her own body.

Home

Coming home was odd. Even from the moment she landed, the airport was very familiar to her. Johnny didn't point out how silent she was ever since they landed. In fact, he seemed deep in his own thoughts while both of them watched the familiar streets pass by.

(Y/N) was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a while to realise that that the streets they passed were a little too familiar. When they stopped in front of a building she would recognise anywhere, her heart dropped into her stomach. When she turned to look at Johnny, his smile was a small one. The gleam in his eyes though was unmistakable.

“How?” She questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go home first, I’ll tell you upstairs.” He told her, reaching over to take her hand in his. To go Home.

Walking into her old apartment was like being transported back in time. Everything was as she remembered, including the little trinkets of decoration scattered around the space. The teal vase on the table in front of the foyer, the dark green couch, even the white curtains were all things she had bought herself once upon a time. (Y/N) was speechless.

“When I heard they were auctioning your father’s estate after the trial, I tried not to give it mind.” Johnny spoke after closing the door behind him. “But I ended up looking up the catalogue.” She could hear him come closer, her eyes still busy scanning her old apartment. “When I saw that this apartment was on the list. I couldn’t help myself.” He stopped a few steps behind her.

“How?” Her voice gave away her surprise, “How did you pay for it? Your father was still–” She stopped, unsure of whether that was a line she could tow.

“He didn’t even know about it.” He stated with a razor thin edge to his voice. “I broke my trust fund and managed to buy the place with everything intact.” He continued, sounding so utterly dismissive about it.

“Johnny.” She finally turned to face him, all the building emotions bubbling up her throat.

“This was my home too.” His hands remained in his pocket, eyes on the floor. “In my entire life, this was the place I was the happiest. I wasn’t ready to let that go. Especially when it was one of the rare things I had the power to keep.”

She could understand his feelings even if the gesture overwhelmed her. She remained silent for a moment longer, just looking him over till Johnny shifted under the prolonged scrutiny.

“You’re making me nervous.” His forehead creased. The chuckle that left him was dry.

Good. She thought, now he knew how she felt around him all those years ago.

“Say something.” He added with a smaller voice. "Please."

She took two steps till he was in arm’s reach, clutching at his t-shirt to pull him the rest of the way. Their lips met in a clumsy crash, teeth clashing into teeth. Johnny’s arms snaked around her waist to control the pace.

There was no haste in their movements anymore. Johnny had nothing to prove this time, and she had nowhere to hide. It was a slow kiss that only existed to exist. Like walking around your house in the dark because you know every turn like the back of your hand.

When his hips pressed against hers, she stumbled back with confidence. Letting instinct take over, they moved towards the destination known to them instinctually. She didn’t even realise where she was stumbling to till her back pressed against the piano.

His hands dragged down her back, and she leapt without being told, arms resting on his neck. Gingerly, he sat her down on the polished black surface.

“This is still my favourite place to fuck you.” He whispered against her mouth, peppering kisses over her face as he stroked her dress higher up her thighs.

“Me too.” She answered, tugging his belt off with a quick tug.

“I have waited.” He spoke between his increasingly heavy kisses, “I’ve laboured.” He nipped against her shoulders, “I even prayed.” His tongue swirled over the vein on her neck, bringing short gasps from her. “And I would have done more.” He dragged his teeth over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I would drag down heaven to earth, if it meant I could have you back here. That’s why I couldn’t let this place go. Because I will never let you go.”

His words left her light-headed, unable to breathe. After tugging his pants below his waist, she sighed with relief when he pulled it off the rest of the way himself. Her hands reached the hem of his shirt just as his index tapped her thigh, a silent request to lift her hips off the piano. The remainder of their clothes hit the floor together, lips crashing together shortly after the interruption.

“Sometimes I think I’ve finally gone crazy. That I wished for you so bad that I created an illusion just to survive.” His laboured breath fanned her neck.

“I told you.” The strain of her breath matched his, “If this was a dream it would be easier.” His fingers brushed over her naked heat, slipping into her slowly.

“No.” He said as her eyes fluttered shut, “I wouldn’t be, (Y/N). I love all of you. Even my illusions would be of who you are, not who you can be.”

“Including the difficult parts?” Her jaw dropped when he began scissoring his fingers.

“Especially those. But you already know that.” He kept up his ministrations till Johnny was satisfied that he’s stretched her out well. "I know you feel the same." There was a fragile hope in his voice.

“I can’t love what I don’t know.” Her heart began hammering, and it had nothing to do with how he brushed over her G-spot. She willed her eyes to look into his, “Tell me your worst.” She requested, eyes meek but voice resolute. Her form faltered when he began to enter her without warning, easing himself in a few inches at a time. “You already know all of mine.” She lied.

“I will. One of these days.” He promised, both of them groaning when he filled her up completely.

She knew his words were a lie. Johnny would never tell her the truth. It wasn't because he didn’t want to, she knew that he craved understanding more than anything else. His claims of seeing her so absolutely came with the desire to want to be seen with the same transparency. But he’d hold the secret to himself because he knew her.

He knew that she would struggle to accept the reality of who he was. Two months ago, he would have been right. These days she felt like this charade was marking itself on her skin.

“Johnny.” She moaned when she felt her gut tie into a knot. “Don’t stop.” She pawed at his chest, unsure whether she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“Never.” He promised again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses all over her face as he increased his pace. He watched her intently as her face scrunched up, her jaw going slack as she came crashing down.

She wasn’t sure when he came, but when he pulled out, she felt the warmth ooze out of her. Exhausted from the long trip and everything that followed, her thoughts lost the ability to linger, and she simply leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, surrendering her weight soon after. He picked her up with ease, lifted her legs to wrap around his waist and guided them to the bedroom that was once hers— that they once shared during a time when the future felt a lot more certain.

She fell asleep in his arms and, for the first time in years, it felt right. She blamed her old apartment and her sleep-addled brain for it. With your eyes closed, it was hard to remember when in time she was.

The next two days were spent locked away. The days were passed between the sheets, caught between the memories of a once-perfect life.

Johnny was lighter here. His eyes were brighter and he was less burdened by his own notions. It felt closest to the Johnny she was once crazy about from afar. It was the Johnny she went to watch at basketball matches in school and then at his University when he graduated before her. She didn't even like basketball.

He even resorted to his old sense of humour. One she had almost not noticed the lack of. Despite all signs pointing to otherwise, (Y/N) always knew Johnny for his intensity. To see him like that all the time now had begun to feel natural to her.

So it surprised her when she seemed to easily match his quips with her own. He was surprised too, she could tell with a dizzying sense of glee. For the first time, their relationship seemed to be on equal footing. Even if the relationship itself was a sham.

"Have you decided what you want to wear to the ceremony?" Johnny questioned over breakfast on the third day.

She shook her head at her omlette, "I figured you'll pick." She shrugged.

Johnny looked pleased when she met his eyes, trying to hide it like he was caught. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to." He stated as he reached for his juice.

"Why not?" She frowned, "You always pick outfits for these things."

"That's exactly why I wasn't sure."

She felt ambushed by the remark, not sure why he sounded so aggrieved. Not wanting to ruin a good week they had been having, she acted like she didn't notice.

"One less thing to worry about." She tried to keep her her tone light, brushing it off with a shrug.

She ended up joining him on a quick errand run in the afternoon. He promised to quickly drop something off at the office before taking her to buy something. Having nothing better to do, she agreed.

When she walked into Johnny's office, she was aware that people watched as they walked by. Despite only coming into the building a handful of times her entire life, it was understandable that they knew who she was. The lingering whispers told her that they probably knew what she had once done too, or what her father did. It was like the moment she left the safety of seclusion, she was reminded once again how stifling this world could be.

(Y/N) stood in the changing room, running her hands over the fitted bust of the dress on her. She tried to picture herself, standing beside Johnny on an occasion where he was the guest of honour. All eyes on him, and as a consequence on her. Her hand turned over, knuckles digging into the beading on the corset. Did she look like she deserved to stand beside a man like that?

The last thought soured in her mind the very next second, a burdensome idea that pulled out the rotting creature inside her— the creature of habit. She walked out to look for the attendant to unzip her, only to find that Johnny had returned from browsing the shop. He looked up when he heard the curtains draw open, his attention seizing immediately.

"You look beautiful." He told her, eyes dragging over her entire form before coming back to her eyes and making her cheeks heat up.

"I don't like it too much." She looked away from him, busying herself with scanning the rack of clothes she had picked for fun. All in an attempt to avoid second guessing herself in the face of his compliment.

"I picked something for you." She didn't know when he had moved so close, gasping when his breath hit the back of her neck.

Her fingers stilled on a dress she thought would flatter her, a dress she could actually like. "Show me." She asked softly.

She ended up picking the dress Johnny picked. Looking in the mirror, it felt like the dress that most suited the intention she was going for. Most importantly, Johnny looked happy when they left the boutique.

He was still grinning when they got into the car. He turned to her with the kind of sparkle in his eyes that still never failed to make her heart skip a small beat. She blamed this on the fact that those sparkles were now rare.

“I just have one last thing to do and then we can go home. Do you want to get dinner before that or do you want to eat at home?” He reached over to take her hand in his.

“Let’s just eat out. I don’t want you to go back and cook, that’s too exhausting.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged.

“Yeah but I do.” She laughed, “I want you to myself after we get home.” She looked away from him with a coy smile. Laughing when Johnny leaned closer as she predicted.

“You know how to convince a man, (Y/N).” He teased her.

“I know how to convince you.” Her eyes rolled back as his lips pressed against her neck, lips parting when he hummed.

“Of course you do. I am a lucky man, after all." He placed a kiss on her neck, lingering long enough to elicit a reaction from her.

The driver stopped, silently signalling their arrival. (Y/N) looked out the window, confused about what she saw.

“A jewellery store? Should I be worried?” She only partially joked, swallowing her folly when he gave her a half-hearted smile in response.

"Rin is getting married next month. I wanted to get her something nice."

“Oh,” was all she could manage in response. "But she's so young." She mumbled, picturing the small girl that followed Johnny around.

He laughed, his cheeks stretching into the whiskers she hadn’t seen in years till that moment. "She's younger than us for sure." He reached out, taking her hands into hers. "But old enough to start her own family, I guess." He squeezed her knuckles once before giving a tug. "Let's go?"

"Oh, I-" She looked out of the window beside her, "What will I do?" She said awkwardly.

"Give your fashionable opinion on what to get." He shrugged avoiding her gaze, opening the door on his side to the curb.

(Y/N) felt confused by the change in his demeanour but nodded with a smile, following him out of the vehicle. Johnny took her hand in his, squeezing it once again.

“You look so beautiful today.” He gave her a tight lipped smile, not really looking at her before saying it.

Her brows knit together, wondering why he was acting strange. The question was bubbling up to her lips as they walked into the store. And then a sound made her turn to look.

“Johnny!” Rin squealed with a wide grin. The next moment her eyes fell on (Y/N). Her smile flipped instantly, gaze steeling over. Johnny squeezed her hand again.

“Have you picked anything yet?” He asked back, trying to hide the strain in his voice with a breezy laugh.

Rin didn’t speak, she didn’t move. All she did was stare at (Y/N), eyes full of suspicion and disgust. (Y/N) pictured the Rin she remembered, with the wide and kind smile that both her and Johnny got from their mothers.

(Y/N) wished the ground would swallow her, or a strong wind would sweep her away.

“What is she doing here?” Another voice chimed in, Rin’s mother. (Y/N) squeezed Johnny’s hand, he didn’t reciprocate.

Rin’s eyes caught the moment, falling to their joined palms. “They’re back together.” She said in tandem with her realisation, turning back to face her mother. A silent conversation passed between them where (Y/N) only caught the look on the mother’s face. More distrust, even more disgust.

Johnny’s aunt never liked (Y/N). Her family was a newcomer in their circle, moving into town after her grandfather sold their ancestral property to his government. (Y/N)’s family was older than theirs, and they were richer than Rin’s father.

(Y/N) and her father were born in this city. But to Rin’s mother and those like her, (Y/N) was always going to be just one thing. A foreigner.

“Yes we are.” Johnny spoke up after several moments, his voice small. He tugged at her hand lightly, making her realise that (Y/N) had shifted to hide behind him. “You know how much Rin loved to dress up in (Y/N)’s clothes. That’s why she wanted to help pick my gift.”

(Y/N)’s ears rang so loud that she didn’t hear their response or what Johnny said in return. She slipped out of the present moment, wrapping herself in her mind and hiding in its comfort. Rin used to love dressing up in (Y/N)’s clothes because she was a teenager whose parents dressed her like a toddler. Rin used to look upto (Y/N) because she was her favourite cousin’s favourite person. And now she was the one who ruined her favourite cousin’s soul.

A hot shiver racked up her chest that felt like a sob and (Y/N) crushed it between her newly manicured nails. Johnny tugged her forward and she followed without resistance, not even thinking of the action. Unlike them, she would not be allowed to show her own betrayal so blatantly.

“What do you think about this?” Johnny’s voice snapped her back to reality, bringing her focus to his hands. He held a necklace littered with diamonds, sparkling so hard that she had to squint.

“Feels too much.” She spoke before she could think. When Rin’s mother shot her a look, (Y/N) bit her tongue.

“I think we should get something smaller.” Rin chimed in, tone clipped.

“No that isn’t what I meant.” (Y/N) tried to say, but Johnny frowned and she realised that her thoughtless words had done something to offend them all. So she just exhaled, “I think Rin’s opinion is what should matter, Johnny. She should pick.” She squeezed Johnny’s arm and gave the women the best smile she could manage.

(Y/N) took a step back, deciding that was the best course of action. This wasn’t her world anymore, she tried to remind herself. What these people thought about her didn’t matter anymore.

That is what she repeated to herself over and over as she found a chair to sit on, trying her best to stay out of anybody’s way. Away was where she had intended to stay till Johnny was done. After the rush of immediate injustice subsided, she wondered if she was being unfair. Rin was Johnny's cousin in name. In practice, she was the closest thing he had to a little sister. They grew up side by side and he had always adored her. When his mother died, Rin lost her aunt as well. They shared that loss.

Rin was family and she loved her brother. (Y/N) just wished that Johnny didn’t bring her here. No matter his intention, he must have known that this would be uncomfortable for everyone. (Y/N) took a deep breath, tearing her gaze away from the happy smiles the three shared. She reminded herself again that this wasn’t her world anymore.

In an effort to distract herself, (Y/N) scanned through the pieces of jewellery in the glass cases around her. She got up to look around, browsing to picture what the owner of each piece would be like.

She saw a blue sapphire tiara that would belong to an oil heiress, a 25 carat topaz cocktail ring that looked like it was bought by a widow who inherited a barony, and a macau brooch that looked like it belonged to the mistress of a dictator. Each piece stood out with an inherent personality and she was almost lost in their worlds during her brief lingering study.

She stopped in front of a bracelet of ruby. The individual stoned were laid in so seamlessly that it looked like one dazzling sheet of the vibrant stone. Only on close inspection could you see the hexagon cut stones with an occasional deep green emerald and clear diamond tucked in between the sea of red. The bracelet looked like it was seeped in blood because of the deep hue of the rubies. (Y/N) concluded that this would belong to someone who had blood on their hands, the sparkling diamonds distracting from the ocean of red.

“Do you like it?” Johnny spoke and she jumped. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had been sneaked up upon. Jaehyun would be pissed if he saw how badly she had let her guard down today.

“Not at all.” She said, turning away from the display to turn to him.

“It’s exactly your taste.” Johnny countered, brows furrowing in that signature confusing way. Where one couldn’t tell if he was concerned or furious.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew my tastes better than me.” She dismissed his words, walking away to find more temporary lives to live between shiny stones.

“Of course I do. It is the buyers burden to pick the right gift.” He smirked.

“You don’t need to buy anything so don’t burden yourself.” She shrugged.

“It would look beautiful on you. It looks like it was made for you.” He insisted, “Let me get it. I want to see you wear it.” He raised his hand to call for an attendant. She grabbed his wrist immediately but the action did exactly what she feared. Along with the attendant, Rin and her mother turned to them.

“Could you please show me this set?” Johnny asked.

“Set? Johnny wh-” She tugged at his sleeve but he clicked his tongue. “Please, you’re here to buy your sister a wedding present. Don’t do this, it looks bad. What will they think, Johnny? They already hate me.” She whispered and hissed but he was undeterred.

“They don’t hate you. They just think they still have to pick sides.” He said with excruciating naivety. “Besides, it’s my money. I will do what I want with it.”

The attendant walked up to the case and she had no choice but to let it go.

“A beautiful choice, Sir. They say a high quality ruby is rarer than a diamond. Each stone is individually sourced from around the world to have the same pigeon’s blood hue.” He spoke to them while being loud enough to be heard by Rin, assuming she was the one he had to convince.

“Rubies don’t really suit Rin.” Her mother laughed from across the room. “Plus I don’t think red would be appropriate for the wedding.”

“It’s for (Y/N). Johnny said without turning to them. But (Y/N) was looking and she saw the women’s face. If she believed that Ruby wasn’t an appropriate choice before, she now wanted it nonetheless.

“Look.” Johnny whispered close to her ear, “It’s perfect.” He was loud enough for just them.

(Y/N) turned at his words, failing to catch her gasp in her throat. It truly was a beautiful set. The bracelet, as beautiful as it was, seemed to be a puzzle piece of a larger masterpiece. The necklace was a mofit of ruby flowers with only a few of them having equally splendid emerald leaves. The earrings too were beautifully set scarlet rubies with joints of diamonds. The whole set that diamonds on the joints but it did truly fill like an afterthought, a blank canvas to highlight the rubies the same way the emeralds conntrasted them. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she hated the fact. She hated that she wanted it despite herself.

“I love it.” Her voice wavered. It was the truth but she wanted him to think it was a lie. She wanted him to think she didn’t want it, but also hoped that he knew how much she appreciated it. Her head hurt.

“Wear it for me when we go home. Just this.” He had the gall to ask.

She decided it best to respond to him in fear of what she’d let slip. Hopefully, Johnny would get the hint.

She stayed by Johnny’s side till Rin had successfully picked her choice. They didn’t acknowledge each other but Johnny slipped his arm around her waist. If Johnny thought that a few stones would make her forget what he did today, he truly must have started believing that she was a figment of his imagination.

The necklace Rin had picked for herself was beautiful, a string of dazzling transparent diamonds with the occasional pink stone that made it look whimsical. But (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how Rin’s mother kept eyeing the closed lid on the ruby set.

“If the box is that beautiful, the thing itself must be a treat.” She commented.

“It is.” Johnny grinned, opening the box to show it.

Both of their lips pursed on seeing the set. (Y/N) bit her lip harshly, only feeling the storm inside her growing. Rin looked away with a shake of her head, turning back to her own gift with a gentle smile.

“Johnny you should come for my party! It’s in an hour anyway.” Rin beamed, clearly happy.

“Sure.” Johnny shrugged, “We would love to come.”

All three women turned to Johnny but he looked like he did not notice. (Y/N) bit her tongue, hoping that his aunt would chime in again. But she did not.

“Sure.” Rin spoke after the excruciating silence, “See you there.”

“She doesn’t even want me there!” (Y/N) tried to explain, struggling to keep her voice levelled lest he accuse her of overreacting.

“If she didn’t, why would she ask you to come, (Y/N)?” Johnny spoke to his laptop, having it on his lap since they got back into the car with the excuse of pending work. In truth he was doing his best to avoid her justified fury.

“She didn’t! You made us a package deal.” She huffed, fist clenching in her lap, creasing her dress.

“We are a package deal.” Johnny looked up at her, frowning. “That’s what it means to be in a relationship, does it not?”

Her first clenched tighter, “That isn’t the point, but you don’t care so why bother?” She was so livid that a defeated laugh slipped past her lips. “Just go without me. No one will want me there, this is unnecessary.”

“They will suck it up then. You are my girlfriend, if someone has a problem with that then they will have to tell us both to leave.”

“I don’t want to go either, Johnny.” She took both his hands into hers, trying to make him look at her. She pleaded with him now, desperate to be released from this. “You will make this uncomfortable for everyone, including Rin.” She tried to use his precious cousin to make her point.

To her relief, it looked like he was considering it for a moment, grinding his teeth together as his eyes remained still on her.

“I’ve already said we’re going. We can’t cancel.” He stated plainly, taking his hands out of hers.

She laughed again, the same furious laugh of utter disbelief and even more betrayal. She was the fool to believe his claims of having changed.

Sins of the Past

The party was worse than she imagined. (Y/N) told herself she had tried. She had tried to smile and she had tried to ignore the looks and whispers. She even tried to ignore that her cousin, Isabella was there; ignore when she brought up specific moments that were an attempt to embarrass her.

She ignored it all because these people were Johnny’s family and friends and she owed him this much. So she tried to keep herself scarce and waited for the moment it would be appropriate to ask him to leave. She had also decided to just not bring today up after it was over. There was no point anyway.

This is how she had lulled herself in her own mind, monitoring the windows for the sunset.

“(Y/N) you haven’t said a word all evening.” A voice chimed up, one of Johnny’s friends from university.

(Y/N) turned, ready with her excuse of being tired.

“That’s her seventh glass, after all.” Her cousin chimed in, biting her lip like she somehow hadn’t been waiting all evening to bring it up.

(Y/N) felt her resolve snap, “I’ve just never been the type to invite myself to conversations I’m not a part of.” Only as she reached halfway through her sentence did sense catch on.

“And yet you’re here.” Her cousin scoffed, ignoring the shove the person beside her gave her.

She let the words crash over her, trying her best to brush it off. Yet, despite those words, it was a silence that rang louder. Johnny’s silence.

“At least I was invited out of love and not obligation.” She shot back, letting her day’s indignation ferment into the venom that dripped from her tongue.

“Ironic because that love is also an obligation. You would know if you had the capacity for either.”

“How would you know what love is?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Her cousin laughed, “Truly, I would never understand your idea of love. At least you got a pretty necklace out of it though.” She raised her glass to (Y/N), “My mother did always say that you were as oppurtunistic as your mother.”

“Don’t talk about my mother. You don’t want me to speak.” (Y/N)’s voice came out so low that she surprised herself. Her whole body shook from the impossible weight of her anger.

More silence. This time she turned to Johnny. A part of her hoped that if he wouldn’t defend her, then he would at least walk out. But Johnny only sat in the sofa across the room, eyes on the floor and furrowed in it’s signature unreadable way.

(Y/N) turned back to the bar she was sitting against, reaching over to pull the closest bottle towards her. “Eight is my lucky number.” She said loud enough for both Johnny and her cousin to hear. Once full to her heart’s content, she picked up her glass along with the leftover pieces of her dignity and held both tightly in her fist. Before she could tilt her glass to her lips, a hand landed on hers.

“No more, (Y/N).” Johnny warned, voice wavering with anger. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you angry about?” She asked, laughing again as she said the words out loud, finding the situation ridiculous. Still she realised that she said it louder than intended, probably sounding like the drunk she was painted to be.

“Just put the glass down, (Y/N).” He told her, despite having a death grip on her wrist that controlled all her movement.

“You’re causing a scene, Johnny.” She said the words that Johnny has used on her cyclically before.

“Get up.” He wasn’t asking. She listened because she didn’t want to drag on the public spectacle. As Johnny dragged her across the room, she couldn’t help glance at her cousin. Her eyes were on Johnny’s hand on her arm and (Y/N) bottled the small victory up.

“Let me go.” She said when she realised that he wasn’t walking towards the door, “I just want to go home.”

“First we need to apologise to Rin.” He spoke with his jaw set tight, like she was to be blamed. She couldn’t even tell if she was, not with everyone staring at her the way they did. She hated this place with every fibre of her being.

Johnny stopped in front of Rin, letting out a trembling sigh that held back all of his anger. “I’m sorry for all of this.” Johnny said so sincerely that (Y/N) wanted to scream. He was apologising on her behalf and she had nothing to be apologetic for.

“I don’t understand why you try so hard with her?” Rin spoke like (Y/N) wasn’t standing right in front of her. “She ruined you from the inside out and you just fell for the same lies again. The only thing that’s changed since the last time is that she can’t fall back on her father. Or his money.” Rin hissed, the words dragging down (Y/N)’s back like nails on a chalkboard.

As calmly as she could, (Y/N) pulled her arm out of Johnny’s. She knew that leaving wasn’t going to help because Johnny would follow her and blame her for it. So instead she turned to the open balcony behind Rin, walking in and closing the door behind her.

She stood there, the wind whistling in her ear like it was wincing at her circumstance. She had given up trying to wipe her tears away because it only made her skin sting. She stood there and told herself that, if nothing else, she was at least sure she had made the right decision all those years ago.

"Come back inside." His order announced his arrival after a very long time. (Y/N) wiped her eyes, lowering her chin so her hair would hide her face. She didn't dignify the words with an answer, continuing to look out at the city below her.

"(Y/N)." He warned, "Everybody will wonder where you are."

"No they won't." Her jaw slid over the other, teeth grinding down. "They know why I am not inside. So just go back to your party, Johnny. Otherwise they'll wonder where you are."

He sighed, a sound of rustling following that was clearly him running his hands through his hair. "Look I'm sure she didn't mean to sound so–"

"Hostile?" She turned, tongue and gaze both sharp as a knife. "What else did she intend to sound like when she called me an opportunistic slut? A fucking gold digger?"

"She didn't say that." He put his hands into his pockets.

(Y/N) gave him an incredulous face, his dismissal stinging more than anything anybody inside was capable of.

"Go inside, John. I don't want to fight with you right now. They'll blame me for your bad mood."

"God damn it!" Johnny kicked something, the sound of shattering following after. She turned with wide eyes to see a flower pot lying in pieces on the floor on a pile of soil. "I just wanted one good day. Just a relaxed day where I can spend time with what remains of my family and the woman I love. Why are you doing this?"

"I am not." She looked up at him, words interrupted by a belligerent breath. "What have I done?" She asked, confused and hurt. "My cousin said so many things. I just listened. You said nothing in my defense and I still just stood there, I took it all. Even when Rin said those things. I just stood there. What else do you want me to do?"

"Just come inside."

"I don't want to! Why do I have to go back? So they can whisper as I walk by again? So they can pat themselves on the back after they confirm that I have no shame? No sense of self respect?” She took a step closer as Johnny stumbled back, “You told me to come back to this city with you. You promised me that it would just be the award. You broke that promise. Then you told me to help you buy something for your cousin I agreed. You didn't tell me they would be there too. You sabotaged me and I stayed silent. You said yes to this and I did not protest. Your cousin said whatever she wished. You did not defend me and I still did not so much as make a sound. You failed me and you didn’t bother protecting me, the women you love. What more do you want from me?” She questioned, tears blurring her vision.

She furiously wiped at her face, the back of her hand dragging the skin till her face felt raw again.

“You’re hurting yourself.” He said gently. It grated her more than anything so far. What good was his concern now?

"Why didn't you defend me?" She cut him off. "You keep talking about what this means to you." She pointed between them. "So what? You will drag down heaven to earth for me but you can't stand up for me?" She pointed out what he said to her.

Johnny furrowed his brows, "What was I supposed to say?"

"You were supposed to tell her to shut up! You were supposed to remind her that I am the person who you claim to love. You were supposed to say that you wanted me back. The least you could have done was said you wanted me here, Johnny. You should have said something.” She groaned, turning away from him. The reiteration of the betrayal brought a fresh assault of tears. She felt so weak and vulnerable begging in front of him. And Johnny looked bemused.

"So what?” Johnny said calmly,” You don't want to be together?"

“Don't twist my words.” She warned him.

"Twist?" Johnny's brows creased, "It's what you just said!" He shoved his hand in the space between them, raising his voice.

"You’re shouting. Don't start a fight." She stepped back from him, feeling like she was being cornered into this confrontation.

"I'm not the one trying to start a fight." He countered.

"All I did was step out of a room where I am not wanted. To let out the tears I could not inside. I didn’t leave because I know you want to meet your friends and family, so I am here and I just want to be left along."

"You left because it shows everyone inside how wrapped around your finger I am. Because you know I would follow you in here immediately." Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her over his nose.

"Excuse me?” She said so loudly that a pigeon on the balcony across rushed to take flight. "First your cousin assumes she knows what I'm thinking, now you do the same. Does manipulation run in the family?"

"I don't understand how you can be so mad when she's right.” Johnny’s voice turned cold, his eyes cruel, “They're all justified, you know? You did do the things she said. You did ruin me from inside out."

"Then why are we here?" She screamed, her resolve slipping. She grabbed it before it disappeared completely, bringing her voice back down. "If your family are still angry about what happened, if you’re angry, then what are we doing? And before you say anything." She raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. "You are allowed to be as angry as you want. I hurt you so much and I understand that you can’t just forget that. I deserve your anger. What I don’t deserve is you treating me like this. And you don’t deserve to be with someone who makes you so miserable. If you're this angry then you simply cannot love me.”

"Now you're the one reading my mind." He spoke, immediately recoiling into his indignation.

“Don’t deflect!” She snapped. “You're lying to yourself if you think you do. Because that amount of hostility borders on disgust. You hate me so much that you will stand aside while someone insults me like that. For something you did, Johnny!" Her eyes welled up again and she had to turn away.

(Y/N) hated that after a certain threshold, her anger always gave way to tears. She hated it because, on more than one occasion, Johnny had accused her of using her tears to win arguments. She hated the accusation because she had never intended to win any arguments with him, she knew it was impossible. All she wanted was to explain her side of it.

“What did I do?” Johnny frowned, taking a step closer to invade her personal space.

“Why didn’t you tell them that you got the jewllery yourself? Did I ask you for it? Why didn’t you tell them that I told you I didn’t want it? Why didn’t you tell them what you told me?” She shoved him away, discomfitted by being this close to his overbearing presence. Johnny had the dreadful habit of towering close to her during arguments.

After a long moment of saying nothing, of just staring her down, Johnny sighed. “I just don’t want us to fight.” He came closer to her in an attempt to touch her.

His words made her see red in a way that felt dangerous. She shoved him again, harder than she expected. He must not have expected it either, because surprise filled his eyes as he lost his balance. There was an unmistakable sound of flower pots shattering, but (Y/N) was already shoving the balcony door open. She froze, turning to look back at him.

"Are you hurt?" She stepped towards him. But Johnny stood up immediately and walked around her, talking quick strides towards the door without once looking back.

She burned from head to toe, a mix of anger and mortification. He left before her, leaving her to walk out by herself. With a hesitant gait, she walked across the now crowded foyer. They all looked away, pretending they hadn’t witnessed the quarrel from the other side of the glass doors. But the side glances confirmed her suspicions. They blamed her. They saw her outburst, and saw her push him to the ground. What they didn’t hear was the actual words. But she doubted that would make a difference.

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