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nothoughtsjustfic · 10 hours ago

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To Love Is To Let Go - J.WW

📔Who: Jeon Wonwoo (Seventeen) x female reader 📔What: Angst, dark themes (check warnings), fluff, supernatural, suggestive (18+). Strangers to friends to lovers. Immortal crypt spirit Wonwoo. Human reader. 📔Word count: 25.3k 📔Warnings: Reader’s family are toxic/manipulative. Human sacrifice (no physical harm/violence). Implied grooming for sacrifice since childhood. Spirits/ghosts. Loneliness/abandonment. Loss of time/disconnection from the outside world. Mentions of sex, including thoughts (no portrayals/smut). Yearning. Age gap. Mentions of death. Mentions of past battles and related deaths. Heartbreak/emotional pain. Minor, non-descriptive injury. Portrayed, non-descriptive death. Reader death (natural causes), but it’s still a happy ending! 📔Summary: “Since the dawn of time, humans have sacrificed their brethren for the sake of the ‘greater good’, and the reasons often differ from good health and protection to monetary wealth. But no matter the reason, humanity still believes in exchanging the life of a living, breathing being for the sake of granting a wish. Unfortunately, your family still believes in human sacrifice, and as the only young adult of your bloodline, you’re next in line to be tossed aside for this long-standing tradition. Doubly unfortunately, you don’t know about it until it’s too late.”

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- This story has been in the works for a while, but I stopped writing it because the timing felt off, and then I just got stuck and unmotivated. But the absolute sweetheart @mylovesstuffs has been so supportive and encouraging about this crypt spirit Wonwoo idea that I’ve finally managed to finish it! So, thank you, Celeste, for being the reason this story is finished, and for helping me with it at the last minute, I appreciate you endlessly 🥺💗

Ever since you were a child, you’ve travelled to the family crypt once a year to pay your respects to your ancestors and thank the crypt spirit for protecting your bloodline for the past centuries.

Though, it seems as if you are the only adult in your family who doesn’t believe that there is a spirit watching over your family. When you were a child, you believed in it the way all children believe in whatever their parents and trusted adults shove down their throats. But you grew up and came to question that which you can’t see and have no proof of.

When you had said as much to your parents as a teen, they were beyond offended and went on a long spiel about the good fortune your family has, the health in all of your bodies, and the love you share. You have doubts against all of those points, but it was then that you realised that you’re alone in your disbelief of the spirit of the crypt and have kept your thoughts to yourself ever since.

As soon as you were old enough with sufficient funds in your bank account from tirelessly working, not some gracious blessing by the crypt spirit, you left the family home and lessened your contact with your family. You knew that your views are far too different to truly be at peace in one another’s presence any longer.

Still, you truly do love your family, despite their misguided beliefs. So, you attend family gatherings, send birthday and holiday well wishes, and, reluctantly, join them for the annual trip to the family crypt. To pay respects to long dead relatives you can never remember the names of and to thank the spirit you don’t even believe in.

You’ve been taught all about crypt spirits since you were little. Their whole deal is looking after the remains of a particular bloodline from the safety of the crypt assigned to them. How they’re assigned exactly, nobody has ever been able to tell you as much. Which had probably been the start of your suspicious doubts about this whole crypt spirit business. Regardless, you know that they apparently endure an eternal existence in one building, surrounded by caskets of remains, and the souls of those too stubborn to let go of this world.

Honestly, it sounds like a sad life, or un-life as it may be. When you still believed in them, you always made sure to make something extra special for your family’s crypt spirit to leave on the yearly excursion in hopes of cheering them up.

However, it’s been well over a decade since you stopped believing.

Today, as you follow your parents into the crypt with your aunt and her family behind you, your hands only hold an old, wooden box.

You have no idea what is in the box. Your mother had shoved it into your hands upon leaving your parents’ house half an hour ago and then batted your curious hands away when you tried to open the latch to peer inside. Apparently, it’s a very special gift for the crypt spirit that your family must leave every fifty years. It’s the first you’ve heard of it. Then again, you’re only half that age, so you’re not surprised it’s new to you and simply accept it.

It isn’t until all of the gifts and offerings are placed down in the centre of the stone table in the middle of the main crypt chamber, and you realise that there’s no space left for the box still in your hands, that you turn to your mother on your right to question her.

“Where is this supposed to go?” you wonder, half certain that your uncle has taken up the space the box belongs due to his excessive gifts this year. Which, you are pretty sure, are supposed to sweeten the spirit into blessing his new business. The third this year, but he’s positive he won’t get scammed again. But he will because he’s a fucking idiot.

“I’ll show you after the thanks,” your mother responds quietly, before patting your hand on top of the box with a little smile sent your way. Something odd flashes in her eyes, something strangely sad and her touch lingers for a moment too long. But then she’s facing forward to where her own mother stands in her usual space near the table to lead the annual thanks to the spirit.

You know there’s no point in trying to talk any further, it’d earn you nasty looks and a slap over the back of your thigh in scold, so you copy everyone else and give the head of the family your full attention.

At this point in your life, you could recite the whole speech yourself if you desired to, though you truly do not want to do that. But it does mean that you don’t have to give your full attention to repeat the mantras in all the right places without drawing attention to yourself for misspeaking, which means your gaze can wander without risk.

It's always struck you as odd, that every single year the crypt is perfectly clean when you all arrive. There are no cobwebs, no dust and dirt lingering at the edges of the room, no leaves blown in through gaps and cracks that you know must exist in a building as old as this. Your family crypt has been in this very spot for at least two centuries now and your family is proud of the structure being entirely original, so you know that time would’ve claimed some of the stone. There has to be cracks in the slabs and stones. Yet, you see no dirt.

Which wouldn’t be odd if you had ever heard of any of your family visiting the crypt outside of the annual trips. But as far as you’re aware, this one day a year is the only time anyone comes near to this old building.

For a family so obsessed with the thought of crypt spirits and respecting ancestors, none of them seem to care to give them attention past words and thoughts all other days of the year. It’s just another reason you stopped believing a long time ago. Surely, if these spirits really exist, they would’ve shown some anger to your family over the years for not keeping their home clean.

Then again, maybe that’s why your family never seems to quite have the luck and good fortune they claim to. Always missing that one last number on the lottery. Always being in front of the person in line who wins a year’s worth of coupons in restaurants. Always catching the edge of clothing on sharp corners they should’ve missed and ruining fancy garments. Things you notice but your family never seems to register.

It kind of drives you crazy that they ignore the obvious things in front of their own eyes yet believe in invisible beings with no proof. You’re just glad that you don’t have to deal with it that often. It’s the little blessings that make all the more impactful differences, you find.

Even though your eyes are wandering around the main chamber, you’re not really focused on what you’re looking at. You’ve seen it all before and nothing ever changes. Even your grandmother still wears the same elegant, purple velvet dress she has been wearing since you were little. You could probably perfectly replicate the scene with pencil and paper if you weren’t such a terrible artist.

Yet suddenly, just after you’ve passed your uninterested gaze over the gate at the side of the chamber, the gate you know leads down into the catacombs and hasn’t been unlocked since your great uncle passed away before you were born, your mind registers the face peering back at you.

Immediately, your eyes dart back to the gate. But even as you flicker your intense focus over it, peering carefully into the darkness beyond and paying extra special attention to where your mind had told you a face peered around the corner of the wall, you see nothing.

In over two decades of coming to the crypt, you have never seen anything present other than your family, no hints of their beliefs having even the slightest hint of merit. Yet now…

You must just be tired.

You’re mentally exhausted from work and spending the previous few hours with your parents while your mother reminded you of all the family held true about the spirits of the crypts. All things you know well enough and had tried to tell her as much, but she insisted that you needed to hear it once more before the ritual started. In the end, you had relented and let her drone on and quiz you.

Over the past year, she’s tried extra hard to bring you back home, and to spend more time together. But you can only handle so much of her growing insistence that you need to embrace the spirit that resides over your family crypt. You’ve learned to just let her get it over with, lest you want to turn a ten-minute update phone call into an hour-long lecture when you have much better things to do.

Deciding that it must’ve just been your mind playing tricks on you, you do your best to push the image of those barely visible features out of your mind and focus on your grandmother instead.

Once the final thanks has been said a handful of minutes later, all at once, in eerie synchronisation, your entire family turns to look at you. Even the children.

Suddenly, you think you’re missing something very important.

“What?” you mutter uneasily and try to step back instinctively. Yet your mother puts her hand on your back and urges you forward with a firmer hand than she’s ever used on you. “What’s going on? Ma?”

“It’s time for the offering,” she answers while leading you over to the gate.

“The box?” you ask, glancing at it, then over your shoulder to your family. You spot the back of your father as he rapidly leaves the crypt while everyone else continues to stare at you in a rather unnerving manner.

“Yes, sweetheart, the box,” your mother confirms and taps your back, prompting you to turn back around and realise that the gate is now open, yet you hadn’t heard a single thing. There wasn’t a creak of metal, no clack of a key in the lock despite the fact you can see it in the lock right now. There should’ve been a noise, even a new gate would make noise.

Are you really that tired to have not heard?

“Down there?” you gawp in disbelief while motioning to the stairs. You can’t see down them without stepping forward onto the landing at the top due to the fact the stairs go down to the right, but you know it’s dark, like really fucking dark.

“Yes, this is a very special offering, sweetheart. It’s a great honour to be chosen.”

“Then I’m sure someone else will love to do it!” you chirp and try to hand the box over, but your mother steps back. “I don’t even believe in all this! Make someone who believes in this shit deliver the old, creepy box down the old, creepy stairs!”

“The reason you don’t believe is the reason you should be the one to do it,” your grandmother speaks up as she shuffles closer. “I watched my brother take his own box down those steps fifty years ago tonight, and now, it is your turn.”

“Your brother?” you question. “The one who died fifty years ago? Is this how he died? He fell down the stairs and broke his neck?”

“We should just push her,” the asshole teen boy of your oldest uncle declares, making you glare at him; though you feel smug when your uncle smacks the back of his son’s head and hisses at him not to be disrespectful. You knew you liked that uncle for a reason. Though, the guilt in his eyes when he looks at you makes you question his title of favourite uncle as your heart twists uneasily.

“Come, sweetheart. Here, you won’t go blindly,” your mother encourages as she offers you a wind-up torch that she procures from her little cross body bag. The torch is practically the same size as the bag; it must be all it contains and something about that feels very strange to you. “At the bottom of the stairs, keep walking to the end of the hall then turn right. You will enter the main chamber where the family crest is carved into the floor; place the box in the centre.”

“This really seems like something someone else should do,” you try to refuse, yet your mother places the torch on top of the box then moves even further away than she previously stood.

“It has to be you, my little one.” She hasn’t called you that in an awfully long time and certainly not in such a tender voice.

It doesn’t feel right. None of this feels right.

“I-I come right back, right? It’ll just be a few minutes,” you reason and rearrange the box into your left arm so that you can pluck the torch off of the top with a shaky grip.

“You’ll be okay, I promise,” your mother says, yet her voice wavers and you just know that she’s lying.

“Ma…” you whisper.

“Go,” she replies just as quietly, though it does nothing to hide the tremble in her tone.

You want to argue, every instinct in you is telling you to drop the box and run out of there, to get as far away as possible. Yet there is another part of you, something in you that you can’t name, nor have you experienced before, that is telling you that you need to do this. Even if you don’t truly know what this is yet. But you’ll know soon, you’re certain of that.

“I love you,” she says as you take your first step onto the landing at the top of the stairs.

You pause and look at her, see the tears in her eyes. “Do you?” you can’t help but wonder, because with everything in you, you know that whatever this is that you’re being forced into, it can’t be something that someone who truly loves you is capable of.

“With my whole heart,” she insists and steps closer naturally.

“No, you’ve always loved this more,” you argue softly before turning away to press the button on the torch and shine the beam down into the darkness. Before your mother can formulate a response through her pained gasp, you descend the steps.

Despite it all, despite the fear in your veins and the heart breaking in your chest, you can’t help but notice how odd it all is as you walk further underground and along the stone hall, until the candlelight from the crypt chamber no longer reaches your back.

It’s cooler down here, of course it is, but it’s not the damp cold you expected, nor is it cold enough to make you wish you had worn a cardigan or jacket over the elbow length sleeves of your dress. There’s the expected earthiness of being underground, even with the stone in between the dirt and yourself, but it’s not unpleasant.

Yet, the biggest oddity of all, the oddity you haven’t seen the full extent of yet due to your limited lighting, is that it’s as clean as the crypt above. There’s not a single speck of dirt or cobweb in the entire catacombs as far as you can see, and even further to where you can’t see. At least, not yet.

Although it’s incredibly fucking creepy being underground in stone rooms you can barely see, you don’t hesitate; having decided to just get this over and done with so that you can shortly go home and promptly cut all contact with your family from this day onwards. You move as quickly as you can without risking getting hurt in the low lighting; following the directions your mother gave you until you locate the crest carved into the large stone slab in the centre of the room. Carefully, you crouch down and place the box as perfectly in the middle as you can before turning and rushing out.

You don’t look back, but if you had, you would’ve seen the figure step onto the crest and pick up the box.

The toes of your heels catch on the steps a few times as you rush up them, but for the first time in your life, you manage to catch yourself every time and make it up to the landing. Where your heart promptly drops into your stomach.

The candles are still lighting up the chamber. The offerings are still neatly set up on the stone table. The fresh flowers and garlands are still decorating the space. Yet you are the only one left to witness it. Your family is gone, and worst of all, the gate is closed.

“No, no, this is…no, they wouldn’t take it this far,” you mutter out in desperate disbelief. You lift one trembling hand to grip the ornate metal of the gate with hope in your chest that this is just a joke and it will swing open when you pull it. It clunks as the latch catches in its frame, holding the gate securely in place. “No. No, no, no.” You grab the gate with both hands as firmly as possible with the torch still in one hand and shake at the gate as hard as humanly feasible.

“Stop that,” a sudden male voice makes you stop with a shriek and turn to peer down the stairs. The beam of your torch lights up a figure standing at the bottom and looking up at you with dark, stern eyes.

With another shriek, you launch the torch downwards without thought, trying to defend yourself, yet the torch clatters onto the floor and the man is nowhere to be seen.

You swear at your own idiocy as you watch the light flicker out before only darkness greets you down the stairs. It’s frankly put, terrifying, and to make things even worse, your phone is in your father’s car so you can’t even use the torch feature from that either.

Throughout your whole life, there has been a rule that no electronics, especially phones, are allowed in the crypt to not risk disruption during the ritual. You’ve never thought anything of it; it makes sense really. It would be disrespectful to have a phone start to ring and ruin the thanks. Yet now, you wish you hadn’t accepted that rule so easily. Accepted any of the rules and traditions so easily.

There’s a part of you that tells you not to turn away from the stairs, not now that you’ve seen that face much more clearly: the sharp jaw and short, dark hair. He looked so real, sounded so real; you can’t accept that it was just your imagination again. But you need to try and find a way out and it’s certainly not down those steps.

So, you take an unsteady inhale to gather your nerve and turn back to the gate to peer through in hopes of there being something within reach that you can use to break the lock and free yourself. You don’t dare rattle the gate again.

You look, and look, and look, and yet, you find nothing.

The candles lighting up the crypt are the same brand and style as your family has been using for some years now, ones you even buy yourself purely because they’re easily available in most stores, so you know that each candle burns for four hours.

The last candle on the table flickers as you stare at it forlornly before going out, leaving only smoke and darkness behind.

For three hours, you’ve been sitting on the stone landing, leaning against the gate, and hoping that some kind of miracle will occur and free you. Someone has to clean up all the food and burned-out candles, there has to be some kind of groundskeeper who will be by and can free you. Someone will come by any second. Right?

Without the candles, you can’t even begin to guess how much longer you sit there with your eyes closed so that you don’t have to see the never-ending darkness enveloping you. It could be ten minutes; it could be an hour or more. You have no idea. But it gets too much to just sit in silence. You know it will drive you crazy, so you need to do something to try and keep your sanity for a little bit longer.

Even when you open your eyes, you can’t see a thing and it’s utterly terrifying. If there is one thing that will make this a little easier, it’s light. You don’t have much hope in you that the torch still works, you had heard it crack against the stone floor after all, but it’s your only option.

Carefully, you shuffle along the ground on your backside until your feet slip down onto the first step. Then, you slowly descend, feet tapping at each step until they’re steady in place before moving further.

When your feet don’t slide off anymore, you know you’re at the bottom of the stairs and stop for a moment to gather your nerves again. This is where you saw that man standing. You have no idea who he is, ghost or spirit. Or something else, something worse. You just hope with everything in you that he isn’t evil and watching you ready to strike.

You were always told that the spirit of the crypt’s entire purpose is about protecting the bloodline, your bloodline, meaning it would logically go against his very purpose to hurt you. Which would be comforting if you had confirmation of the man’s reason for being here. But you don’t, so there is still fear in your heart making every movement hesitant.

After timidly crawling around on your hands and knees and blindly patting the floor for long enough that your knees hurt from the hard slabs, you finally feel plastic under your hand and quickly grab the torch. When it’s in your hands, you lean back onto your knees to fiddle with it and wind up the crank.

Suddenly, now that you’re no longer facing downwards, you realise that there is the faintest glow coming from the room up ahead. It should feel ominous, you think, seeing the soft light at the edge of the archway into the room, but it doesn’t. It’s oddly…welcoming.

You remain in place for a moment or two, then get to your feet, wincing at the pain in your knees as you do. Once you’re standing at your full height and have the torch gripped in both hands in a strange method of self-soothing, you edge towards the room.

Part of you expects to see the man inside of the room, so it takes a silent little pep talk to yourself before you can make yourself peer around the arch into the room, only to find it empty. Oddly enough, the light isn’t coming from in here but another hallway.

“Oh, I’m going to die,” you mutter to yourself as you force your feet forward to enter the room and approach the hallway. The light is brightest at the other end, yet still, there doesn’t seem to be a light source there, just another hallway. “At least I’m already in the tombs,” you muse and tighten your hold on the torch before bravely walking forward.

You pass a few small tombs on your way down the hallway, none of which are lit but the light somehow reaches them enough that you can tell that they’re all impeccably clean and empty of life. Well, if you can even call a spirit or ghost a life, that is. You’re not sure what they’re classed as exactly, especially crypt spirits, but you don’t think it’s really all that important right now, if at all.

At the end of the hall, the light is brighter to the right, so you turn and follow it to the other end of the short hallway, then down another, and another, until you finally find the source.

You come across a large room, decorated beautifully with various materials. Silk draped artfully from the arched stone ceiling and wrapped around columns. Velvet cushions of varying colours sizes dotted comfortably around the space. Rich, dark wood carved into various pieces of furniture.

Everywhere you look, there is more to see and boggle your mind. It seems impossible to find all these beautiful items so deep underground. Especially when you know that your family doesn’t bury the deceased with anything other than the clothes and jewellery on their body.

Yet, not as impossible as the fact that no matter where you look in the room, you cannot see a single light source. No candles, no torches, no flames of any type. There isn’t a single light, yet you can see every inch of the room and its décor as if multiple lights fill the space.

“What the fuck?” you whisper incredulously and step into the room to try and get a better look.

Now that you’re further in and the large shelving unit isn’t blocking the view to your right, you can see another archway further down the wall, like the multiple on other walls, yet this one also has light coming from within. Curiously, you follow it.

“Okay, what the fuck?” you gawp as soon as you’re at the doorway and notice that this is, without a doubt, a kitchen.

It’s perhaps only a third of the size of the room behind you; nevertheless, it still feels spacious and bright. Yet cosy, with a large, circular table taking up most of the space and surrounded by multiple chairs, outdated counters around the edge of the room, an old wood-burning stove against one wall, and even a sink with taps.

There’s steam coming from the pot on the stove and now that you’ve seen it, you can suddenly smell something mouthwatering. You’re not sure what’s cooking, it’s never been your forte, but you know when something smells delicious.

Too hungry and intrigued to be cautious, you walk over and lean closer to get a better scent without lifting the lid. You may not know much about cooking, but your parents scolded you many times in your earlier life for removing lids and opening oven doors when they had been cooking; so, you know that you could run the risk of ruining whatever is bubbling away within the pot by removing the lid.

Deciding that standing here will just make you hungrier, you turn with every intention of returning to the main room, though the sudden presence in the archway makes you freeze in place.

It’s the man, and he’s staring at you with those intense, dark eyes.

“H-hi?” you offer after swallowing thickly. “Are you the crypt spirit?”

The man, or spirit may be more apt, doesn’t respond for a moment, just stares at you intimidatingly before he nods, and his posture deflates a little as he sighs. “My name is Jeon Wonwoo. I have been watching over your family for almost eight centuries now.”

“Eight centuries? The crypt is that old?” you gawp in utter shock.

“No. I was your ancestral guardian before I became your crypt spirit. I was the one who you all prayed to and asked to come to the living realm to guide your ancestors’ souls to the afterlife. Now, however, I am stuck here, thanks to your ancestors building this place.”

“Oh…sorry?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “You were not the one to trap me and I have spoken to those ancestors since; I guided them after all. They did not know that building the crypt would force me to be tied to this world and have apologised profusely. I hold no resentment and have grown accustomed to my home.”

“They built this for you?” You motion vaguely around the kitchen and to the room behind him.

“No, I once had the ability to do that myself; to manipulate the sacred space of the catacombs.”

“But you don’t now?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You do not seem to be scared of me any longer,” he comments and moves further into the kitchen, so you step aside to let him access the stove when he motions to it. “I may not be able to manipulate the catacombs to such a degree any longer, but as far as you are aware, I could still hurt you.”

“I’m going to die down here regardless of what you do or do not do to me, Jeon Wonwoo. I’m the type of person to quickly accept the inevitable.”

“Is that why you remained on the stairs for four hours?”

“It was light.”

“And then it was not.”

“And then it was not,” you agree, yet have nothing more to say on the matter because he’s right. You hadn’t accepted your situation then and still held onto hope. But now that you’ve wandered the catacombs deep enough that you know you won’t easily find your way back, you know you won’t be able to leave this place.

“You must be hungry, sit.”

“How did you get food down here?” you wonder as you do as told and move to the table to sit on one of the cushioned chairs, so that you can watch his broad frame move to fill the two bowls he plucks from one of the under-counter cupboards.

“I am not a ghost, I need sustenance as much as you, so the catacomb provides. As long as I am here, food will appear.”

“Oh, so you are a living being,” you comment with a hum. Wonwoo glances at you curiously before stepping aside to open the bread bin. He pulls out the loaf from within and cuts off a few generous slices. “I was wondering what a spirit is classed as; if you are alive or ghost-like.”

“Why would you give food offerings to a being that has no use for it?”

“Humans are stupid.”

The way Wonwoo laughs makes you perk up; it’s such a lovely sound and you suddenly want to know what he looks like when he laughs. You imagine his handsome face looks even prettier lit up.

“You are a human,” he points out.

“I didn’t say I’m not stupid. I must be, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“No, you are perhaps the only one in your family who is not stupid,” he corrects as he turns and carries a plate of sliced bread in one hand and two spoons in the other.

He places the plate on the table then offers you one spoon before placing the other in front of a chair a few away from your own, further around the table so you will be able to see one another as you eat without being as far away as possible, while putting himself directly opposite you.

“I’m the only one who didn’t believe in you,” you point out as he returns to the counter to grab the two bowls.

“It is not stupid to not believe in things you have no proof for.”

“Strange thing for a spirit to say.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, placing both bowls down then moving to fill two glasses with water while you peer into your bowl at what looks like some kind of stew or soup. All you know is that it’s a warm orange-red, has lumps of what looks like vegetables, and smells delicious. “What that also means,” Wonwoo starts as he returns, putting the glasses down beside your bowls before finally sitting. “Is that you do not believe in the ridiculous human sacrifice nonsense.”

“Human sacrifice?” you repeat dumbly and lift your head to look at him instead of staring hungrily at the meal before you. “They sent me down here for you to kill?!”

“No, no.” He shakes his head slightly. “Not at all. Even if I wanted to kill you, I could not; it goes against my very purpose. I think your family must know at least that much.”

His assurance does calm your sudden disbelieving anger. Something about Wonwoo feels so genuine that you don’t doubt him even the slightest bit. He could probably tell you that the world is a giant computer simulation, and your entire life is nothing more than lines of code you could never comprehend, and you’d just nod and accept it. Though the way his gaze keeps flickering distrustfully to the broken torch on the table makes you wonder if he knows anything about modern technology. Probably not.

“For some bizarre reason, a few decades after building this crypt, your ancestors decided that I require a human for company, so they started a tradition of sending an adult down into the catacombs every fifty years to live the rest of their days with me.”

“You don’t want the company?”

“Why would I want the company of humans who will wither away before my very eyes? I have had to burn seven of your ancestors so far. You will be my eighth when your own time comes.”

“When will that be?”

“I am not psychic,” he deadpans and picks up his spoon, then uses it to motion vaguely at your bowl before dipping it into his own. “Eat; before it gets cold.”

“Oh, right, thank you,” you respond gratefully and do as told, making a soft, appreciative noise when you have your first spoonful. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you, but were you never taught to not talk with your mouth full?”

You’re already too busy spooning food into your mouth to respond.

After dinner, you help Wonwoo clean up; learning where everything goes, and how he likes to clean. And unintentionally staring in awe at the taps long enough that he questions you.

“Are these no longer in use on the surface?” he wonders, gently touching the cold tap with the slightest hint of a pout on his lips. “These are a wonder in of their own. I cannot imagine how you can live without them, and I refuse to change them. I do not have the power any longer to do it even if you ask.”

“No, it’s not that, we still use taps just like these, but I’m just wondering how the fuck you have working plumbing down here.”

“Your great uncle showed them to me in his mind after a few decades with me; he was beyond fed up with the pump. When I saw this marvel, I copied them to the best of my ability with the limited knowledge he had. I do not know any more than the taps; that they are metal, and one produces hot water and the other cold. I know nothing of plumbing.”

“Wait, are you telling me that there aren’t pipes bringing the water? It just appears?”

“I can only replicate what I can see.”

“Holy shit, that’s insane.” He frowns at you. “That’s a compliment,” you insist, assuming his expression to be offence and proven correct when the furrow in his brow smooths out. “So, you can make anything?”

“No, not now. My powers are too weak, too limited these days.”

“Why?”

“Your family stopped loving me.”

“What?” You look at him puzzled and ignore the hint of pain on his features as he turns and heads out of the kitchen. Of course, you follow. “My family practically worships you.”

“That is not love. That is for their own gain; always praying for wealth or beauty, nothing meaningful.”

“They believe you bless us with good health.”

“I…I do what I can,” he admits with a forlorn sigh and stops at the shelf to take a frame down to show to you.

You look at it and are surprised to recognise the ugly ice-lolly stick frame. It’s stained partially red from all of the colourings in the frozen treats you had made yourself ill to consume and make this very frame. The drawing within looks the same as the day eight-year-old you drew it; a vague humanoid shape holding hands with a little girl under the sun with creepily big smiles on the faces. But they’re happy. They’re supposed to be happy together.

“Your family loved me once, but it faded long before your own did. I used the last of my power to retrieve this from where it had been in the crypt chamber for five years. The last time I was loved by your family.”

“I stopped believing in you,” you admit. “And because of that, you lost your power?” You frown guiltily at him and hand the frame back, so he puts it back in place with nothing but love in the way he handles the almost two-decade old frame stuck together with PVA glue and a child’s love.

“Not entirely. I still have some, otherwise I would fade away. As long as your family continues to visit annually and pray to me, I will exist and have some power. But it is the love of the family we protect and guide that gives us true power. I lost that, for a long time. But when you were a child, you loved me and that gave me the power to see into your great uncle’s mind and recreate the kitchen and bathroom. I am truly grateful to you for loving me for long enough to allow me to learn of a modern toilet and bring one into my home.” That makes you laugh and now, as he sees you laugh, you are blessed with Wonwoo’s smile for the first time.

You were right, he truly is beautiful when he smiles.

Time passes differently underground. Of course, you have no way to see outside, to watch the sun and moon chase one another across the sky, so you can’t tell how the day progresses. Wonwoo, however, knows. He still has enough magic in his body to just know these things. He makes sure to feed you three meals a day and send you to bed at what you assume must be a reasonable time.

It had been very strange to get used to the bedroom that he had presented for you to live in for the rest of your days. He made a point of showing you the springy mattress on the metal bedframe, both of which creak with every movement, but he had looked so proud that he has a modern bed for you that you haven’t complained once in the past weeks of living together, even if your back constantly hurts.

There had clearly been some effort on Wonwoo’s part to make this room comfortable for your great uncle based on the man’s mind. Which is very sweet of the spirit, and you appreciate his care, but it’s all very outdated and suited to a man stuck in the 70s. There’s only so many times you can listen to glam rock records on the turntable while staring at posters of David Bowie and Queen before becoming wildly uncomfortable with someone else’s choice of décor leering down at you as you lay in bed.

So, you take up spending time in the main room; that large, beautiful room where Wonwoo is often found sprawled over cushions reading yet another book. At first, you hadn’t been that interested in the books, but with little else to do, you pick books off of the shelves to work your way through.

The days don’t seem to drag as much when you can look up and see Wonwoo absorbed in a book across the room. Just knowing that you’re not alone helps. Even if some days you barely say a few sentences to each other, it’s still comforting to occupy the space together.

Still, some days, you can’t settle on a book, and you don’t want to bug Wonwoo to entertain you, so you retreat to your uncomfortable room to play those same records and have staring contents with posters that reign supreme in the sport.

“You can remove them, you know,” Wonwoo’s voice pulls you away from where you’re glaring at the biggest poster of David Bowie; you think it’s from one of his albums. It’s a famous photo of the man with a colourful lightning bolt painted over his eye, but you’ve never been a fan of the man. Although you can now sing along to some of his songs, you still wouldn’t say you’re a fan. If anything, you think you might even dislike him and his music now due to the forced proximity. Still, you don’t have any other music to play, so you reluctantly listen to the vinyl record with his name on it and mumble the words back at him to pass the time.

“What?” you ask, rolling your head on the rug under you to look at him in the doorway.

“Those posters, they were your uncles, I don’t care for them. You can remove them. This room is yours to do with as you want; if you do not like the posters, you can remove them instead of glaring at them all the time.”

“I don’t glare all the time.”

“Every time I pass your room, you are glaring.”

“Why do you pass my room?” You give him a puzzled look.

“To get to the library.” He lifts the book in his hand; the one he had been reading earlier when you gave up reading your own book and retreated to your room.

“There’s a library?!” you sputter and abruptly sit up.

“Of course, where did you think I get my books from?”

“The shelves in the main room, or your bedroom, not a fucking library!”

He sighs. “Was cursing necessary?”

“Yes!” You jump up and turn the record player off before urging him to show you the way. ��You should’ve told me about the library, Wonwoo!”

“I assumed you would’ve discovered it on your own,” he admits as he obligingly walks down the hall and motions to the room at the end to allow you in first.

You step in and gasp at the sight of the shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, plus even more stacks of books on the floor around the room due to running out of shelf space.

“I have never told you that any room is off limits to you, just warned you not to venture out of our living area lest you get lost in the catacombs.”

“You have never told me I can go wherever I want to either,” you reason as you run your fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf closest to you.

There doesn’t seem to be a system in place, at least not that you can tell when there are multiple languages present and you only know your native tongue. You really can’t tell what these books are about, nor if they’re in some kind of alphabetical order.

“I’m like a vampire,” you add. “I need to be explicitly invited to a place to step inside.”

“What’s a vampire?” he queries, making your head snap around to look at him in surprise. There is the slightest purse to his lips, showing that he’s pressing them together.

“Wonwoo!” you exclaim, when you realise that he’s trying not to break and laugh at his own joke, and then you realise why he would find this so funny. “You’re literally carrying Dracula!” You point at the book in his hands, and he cracks, laughing and leaning over with the force of it. “Honestly, your sense of humour is so outdated.”

“I am almost nine hundred years old,” he reminds amidst his laughter and walks into the room to put the book on the shelf and start to look for another to catch his attention.

“You look good for it,” you comment casually, unaware of the way Wonwoo immediately looks at you with widened eyes and a blush tickling his cheeks. Though, he quickly rushes to hide around the other side of the unit in front of him out of your sight until the pink leaves his skin.

The two of you peruse the shelves in a content quiet for a while until you pop up behind Wonwoo to ask him a question about the book in your hands. Your sudden appearance makes him shriek and panic, abruptly shoving the book in his hands onto the shelf. Though in his rush, he fails to make it secure, and the book falls down to the floor between the two of you.

For a few tense seconds, you both stare at it. Without warning, you dart down to reach for the book. Wonwoo shrieks again and rushes to grab it first, using a little of his power to pull the book across the stone to him before you can grab it.

“That’s cheating!” you accuse as you straighten up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Wonwoo replies as he shoves the book under his shirt by the button open near his collar. You watch the book drag down the inside of his shirt and stop at the waistband of his trousers, where he always neatly tucks his shirts into.

“If you think I’m afraid of playing dirty, you really don’t know me,” you point out while stepping closer to him. Wonwoo steps back with eyes wide and both hands over the book at his stomach. “Are you going to be a good boy and give me the book or am I going to have to take it from you, Jeon Wonwoo?” you question as his back hits the shelf and he yelps softly at the contact.

It’s beyond amusing to you to see the ancient spirit being so skittish. It’s the most entertainment you’ve had in the past weeks, and you decide right here and now to make it a habit to play with Wonwoo like this.

“I…” Wonwoo starts yet trails off when you step even closer until your left foot finds a place partially between his. His wide eyes dart down between your bodies then back up to meet your gaze.

You just about manage to catch sight of his suddenly very pink cheeks before he vanishes. You’d yell out and call him a cheater again if something hadn’t hit your foot when he vanished, drawing your attention down to where the book he had tried to hide is now half propped on your left foot.

“Huh,” you muse and reach down to pick it up curiously. The golden writing on the spine is in another language, so you almost give up on finding out what exactly Wonwoo had tried to hide from you and pretend he hadn’t been intrigued by. Yet you still open the book and immediately, a grin lifts your face as you understand. “Oh, Wonwoo, you horny fucker,” you snigger, noticing the illustration of a man and woman having sex on the first page you see. You turn the page and find that this must be some kind of smutty novel, or a guide on how to have sex, based on how the illustrations change as if walking the reader through the stages and movements.

You flick through the pages a little more then get bored and decide to put the book away and return to your own task. Wonwoo can collect his porn in peace later, and you’ll only tease him minimally. Mostly because, based on the pictures, it seemed rather vanilla and Wonwoo had been pretty flustered for something so innocent, at least by your standards.

By the time you pick a book to take to the main room, Wonwoo hasn’t returned to the library and has instead decided to read one of the books from the shelves in the main room, where you usually get your own reads from. At least, he’s pretending to read.

Even once you sit down and open your own book, in your periphery you can see him repeatedly looking over at you from over the top of his own book. Though you don’t point it out and just giggle quietly to yourself before focusing on your story.

Months pass with Wonwoo. Over time, you’ve explored your home and discovered that there are many things stored around; more records, even more books, various art supplies, and plenty of older games and activities. Each of which Wonwoo obligingly sits and patiently teaches you to play, regardless of how long it takes or how many times you get the rules wrong in your effort to learn.

During the months, the two of you get closer, which was bound to happen after living with someone and having only them for company, but you hadn’t expected how quickly it would happen.

Clearly, Wonwoo hadn’t expected it either, as one day, some months in, when he tries to use his power to playfully steal your favourite huge cushion away before you can reach it to sit on, the cushion moves a lot faster than expected and pelts him in the face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim and crack up, almost falling over from laughing so hard. Especially when Wonwoo just gawps dumbly at the pillow covering half of his body where he’s now slouched against his own pillow pile.

“You love me,” he blurts, instantly shutting you up.

“What the fuck, man?!” you sputter.

“You think of me as your friend?” he asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah,” you confirm.

“And you love me.”

“Whoa, dude, I do not fall that easily, take it a step back. You’re pretty and all, but down from your self-appointed pedestal, thanks.”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks quietly.

You just nod silently, trying to wrap your head around this whole conversation. It feels rather surreal and you’re starting to wonder if he had hit his head when the cushion smacked into him. Can spirits get concussions?

“I think you’re beautiful,” he informs honestly.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You shuffle your weight from foot to foot awkwardly and look away shyly. “But uhm, just because I think you’re pretty, it doesn’t mean I’m in love with you or anything.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you say that?!” You look at him frustratedly confused.

“I said you love me, not that you’re in love with me. Do humans no longer platonically love their friends?”

“Ooooh.” You understand as your eyes round out slightly. “I see. Yes, yes, we do. Sorry, people tend to mean romantic love, so my mind automatically went there. Yes, I do love you platonically, what has that got to do with anything?”

“I told you; when your family loves me, my powers come back.”

“Wait, that still applies?” You rush over and yank the cushion off of him to drop onto at his side with wide, excited eyes. “Even though I’m down here with you, loving you still affects you?”

“As long as you are alive, your love for me will always affect me.”

“Then I guess there’s only one thing for it,” you decide and take his face into your hands, making his eyes blow wide and cheeks warm under your palms. “You’re going to have to make me fall in love with you, Jeon Wonwoo.”

“What?!” he sputters and removes your hands from his face. “Why would you even suggest such a thing?!”

“I imagine the more I love you, the more of your power returns, right?” He nods. “Then we can have so much fun! You can raid my mind and make so many things to improve our home!”

“You do not like our home?” He frowns, almost pouting offendedly. “I have worked hard to build this home. I love this home, why don’t you?”

“I do, actually. It’s beautiful and I feel more at home here than I ever have anywhere,” it’s only as you say those words that you realise the truth to them. “Huh, that’s true.”

“Did you intend to lie?” He frowns further, more genuinely upset this time at the thought of you lying to him; something you haven’t done so far, and you can’t imagine a situation where you will feel it necessary to lie to the man either.

“No, no, not at all,” you assure and wiggle your arms a little so that he removes his hold from your wrists. Though, you grab his hands before he can move them away to hold them in your own.

It’s the first time you’ve held hands, but the sight of Wonwoo’s shy, diverted gaze and red tipped ears makes you internally promise to hold his hand at every available chance. He’s so easy to fluster, it’s so endearingly cute.

“I just meant that I hadn’t realised until I said it. Perhaps when I was little I felt at home with my parents, but then I grew up and realised how obsessive they are about all this. Even my dad follows it all despite not being part of the bloodline. But here, I feel safe, comfortable, happy. I feel like you accept me entirely and enjoy being by my side. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever needed in a home, and now I have it, with you.”

“Oh.” He lets out a breath and slowly nods. “I can’t recall my childhood, or much of my human life, but I think I may feel the same way. I can’t remember ever being this happy and content in eight hundred years.”

“Okay, this is really sweet but I’m very stuck on what sounds like you were a human once?” You gawk when he just nods. “What the fuck, Wonwoo?” You let go of his hands to hit his shoulder scoldingly.

“What?!” he exclaims and grabs your hands before you can hit him again.

“Why did you never tell me?!”

“I wasn’t aware it was something you care to know!”

“Of course it is! I want to know everything about you, idiot.”

“Oh…I didn’t realise. You never asked.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you were human to ever ask about.”

“All spirits are, at least guardian spirits. I don’t really recall much of my life, only glimpses and vague memories, but I think I was spoiled, not a nice man, so I was punished upon death to live as guardian to one of the bloodlines I wronged.”

“You were shitty to my ancestors so now you have to watch over their shitty descendants; that sucks.”

“Sometimes. I must admit, many of your family have been terrible people,” he agrees and looks at your hands that are once again in his own. Bravely, he adjusts his hold until your palms can comfortably press together. “But knowing you makes it worth it.” As Wonwoo lifts his head to look at you with a gaze so earnest, your heart skips a beat.

You think he’ll make it so easy to fall for him.

A whole year passes with Wonwoo growing stronger and stronger as your love for him grows bigger and brighter with every smile, every day spent simply existing together.

You never thought you could fall in love so peacefully, so entirely without any fear or attempt to stop it. But it feels right, like perhaps you were always meant to love Jeon Wonwoo.

Sometimes, you do wonder if he knows the extent of your love. Obviously, he knows that it’s pretty extensive at this point; he can feel it and regularly shows off his growing powers by surprising you with new items in your home. Items he saw in your uncle’s mind yet never had the power before to create, including a hot tub that he refuses to go near.

Though, he also refuses to go into your own mind to recreate anything you’ve seen, no matter how much you pout at him. You really want a new bed, but he has never given you the chance to even say that and instead has the habit of vanishing whenever he thinks you’re going to ask him to delve into your mind, without explaining why he won’t even take a peek for one item.

Based on how Wonwoo’s power and general aura has grown exponentially in the past year, he must know that your love passed platonic some time ago. But he never mentions it, never shows any sign of being aware. At this point, you can’t tell if it’s because he genuinely hasn’t put those pieces together in his innocence, or if he’s taken up being skilled at tricking you just to prevent making things awkward and bringing your unreciprocated feelings to light.

If he’s not going to mention it, you sure as hell aren’t either. You may not be ashamed of your love or care that he doesn’t return it, but you certainly don’t want to face rejection. You may be comfortable in your own skin, but even you would be embarrassed by the man telling you that he doesn’t return your love.

It feels unnecessary at this point, anyway. You’re happy with the way things are, happier than you have been in a long time.

At least, normally you are.

Of course, with it being a year to the day that your family locked you up in the catacombs with their only offers of sustenance being on the other side of the locked gate, it means it’s time for the annual family trip to the crypt.

Although you closed your heart off to your family when the last light of the candle burned away that day, today, your heart aches.

The gentle call of your name makes you look away from the mocking eyes of David Bowie on your wall and to Wonwoo in the entranceway. He has a box in his hands that you haven’t seen in a year. “I think perhaps it’s time to give you this.”

“The offering?” you mutter confusedly as you sit up and cross your legs, so Wonwoo walks over and places the box on the bed in front of you carefully.

“You were the offering; this was always for you.”

“For me? Then why did you hide it from me?”

“It wasn’t hidden. It’s been in my room waiting for you, but you never go in there.”

“I’m a vampire,” you remind, and he chuckles. “If it was mine, you should’ve put it in here.”

“I almost did at first, but I thought you were doing well without it. Though today, you miss your family knowing they will be above us soon, so this might help. Or not. I haven’t looked inside but I know these boxes are always sent with the sacrifice to offer comfort to them as they pass their years stuck with me underground.”

“Oh.” You reach for the box and flick the latch.

As soon as you start to open the lid, Wonwoo chooses to vanish instead of walking away like he usually does, unless to escape your teasing or line of questioning. You’re not sure why exactly he left like that, maybe nothing more than just because he wanted to give you privacy and panicked that you were opening the box, or maybe something else. Though the first option seems the most likely for your oddly skittish friend.

Choosing to ignore his behaviour, like you often do, you focus on opening the small chest. Although there is an envelope on the top with your name written on the front in your mother’s handwriting, your attention is drawn to the worn face of the ragdoll underneath. You haven’t seen the doll in such a long time.

It was your favourite toy as a child; you carried it with you everywhere and couldn’t sleep without it, and would cry for hours if you ever misplaced it. Thinking about it now, you can’t recall when you outgrew the toy exactly, but you know that when you found it in a box of old toys when you were an angsty teen, you had tossed it in the box for donation and hadn’t thought about it since. Now, as you stroke your fingers over the worn-soft face of the doll, you’re silently glad that your parents didn’t listen to you and saved your childhood comfort.

Under the doll are some family photos; one for every annual trip to the crypt, showing the progression of your family’s growth and age, with you right there in the centre between your grandmother and mother. Until now, you’ve never noticed that you were always placed in the centre despite almost everyone else changing positions around you. Only your grandmother and mother remained in place at your sides and all of your blood relatives just fit wherever suited them at the time.

Until now, you hadn’t considered once in the past year that maybe it hadn’t been a spontaneous decision to sacrifice you out of all of the adults of your bloodline. Yet now that you’re thinking about it, it makes sense.

You always thought that it’s just because your mother is the closest to your grandmother as her eldest that you were raised with the most fanatical upbringing. Your mother had always drilled the importance of the yearly visit and ritual into you at every available opportunity. And ever since you were old enough, she would quiz you and give you homework to write your own essay of thanks to the crypt spirit on a weekly basis. None of your mother’s siblings have raised their children in the same way, even if they all believe in the spirit too. You just thought she was intensely devout.

But maybe it’s always been much worse than that. Maybe, she has been raising you for the sole purpose of sacrificing you one day.

Now that you’re thinking about that possibility, you can so vividly remember the time your mother had admitted to you that she never wanted children, and had never been a maternal woman like her sisters and friends. When you asked why she had you if she didn’t want children, she smiled, cupped your too young cheek, and simply said “for the love of family”. You had assumed she meant the family she made with your father, the three of you, but now, now you’re wondering if she had always meant the bloodline. Now you’re wondering if the only reason she birthed you was to give you away to a spirit one day in the misguided belief it will benefit the bloodline.

With that thought in mind, you pack everything back into the box and take it to find Wonwoo. He’s not in the main room so you assume he’s cleaning the catacombs, and you don’t want to go wandering around the halls looking for him and risk getting lost. You know he would find you once he realises that you’re not at home, but that could take a while; he has a lot of halls and tombs to clean.

You put the chest down on the table for him to find when he returns and go to the recently developed second bathroom. Or as you call it, the hot tub room. Wonwoo, however, just calls it your bathroom, even if it only contains the hot tub and some décor.

Although the hot tub itself is wonderful and Wonwoo had managed to create it with multiple settings so that you can adjust it to how you’d prefer, there is something important he failed to factor in when creating the hot tub; suitable clothing for you to wear in it.

When Wonwoo had seen the hot tub in your uncle’s memories, he hadn’t seen anyone but men using it, wearing swimming trunks Wonwoo had assumed were simply shorts. So, in his innocence, he had assumed that you can wear your own shorts and t-shirt in the hot tub. It hadn’t occurred to him that you would need something else, and he had vanished when you tried to explain to him what a bikini is.

As you strip down to bare skin and clamber into the heated, gently bubbling water, you muse if the reason Wonwoo refuses to enter this room, other than his distrust for modern technology, is that he knows the hot tub implies you will be naked and that flusters him greatly. Even if he has no issue with going near the bathtub or shower, at least you assume so as he’s always clean, but maybe that’s just part of his spirit powers.

Sometimes, you do ponder what exactly Wonwoo’s powers are. You know that he can manipulate your home within the catacombs when he’s strong enough. And he can always repair and clean all of the catacombs and crypt; hence why it’s always clean despite your family only visiting once a year.

You also know that Wonwoo cannot enter the crypt himself. The gate is imbued with some kind of celestial power that keeps him trapped in the catacombs. He can’t reveal himself to the bloodline unless guiding them, so he can’t even leave the catacombs when they open the gate for the sacrifice to descend the stairs.

Whenever he cleans the crypt, he has to stand on the other side of the gate and summon a crypt cleaner to clean the sections that he can’t see himself to send his magic to. It used to take a lot out of him, but now that he’s full of your love, he finds the task much easier and only looks a little run down after cleaning the crypt chambers.

But other than those things, you don’t know if Wonwoo’s powers extend further. You’ve never explicitly discussed how he watches over your family, how he “does what he can” in regard to giving your family good health, or how he guides the deceased to the afterlife. At least you know that one day, you’ll have the answer for the latter when he has to guide you. You just hope you have plenty of time with the man before then.

The thing about Wonwoo’s creating the hot tub, other than the no swimwear issue, is that despite it logically being water focused; therefore, all the normal water rules apply, Wonwoo had forgotten that aspect when creating the hot tub. Which means that this water doesn’t have the habit normal water does of making your skin wrinkle.

Many days you’ve spent enough time relaxing in the water with your mind wandering down various paths without realising how long you’ve been inside, until Wonwoo knocks the door timidly and tells you that it’s time to eat or go to bed.

Today is no different. You know you’ve been in the water for quite some time, and your stomach is starting to tell you it’s getting close to lunch time, when there’s an almost too-quiet knock on the door.

You lift your hand out of the water to eye the perfectly smooth skin of your fingertips as you remain silent, just to mess with Wonwoo and force him to knock a little louder and call your name through the door.

“I can’t hear you!” you call and reach over to turn the bubbles up. You can hear Wonwoo talking through the door; you can actually clearly hear him questioning why you left the box in the main room, but you need a pick-me-up right now and flustering Wonwoo is a sure-fire way to brighten your day. “Sorry, Wonwoo, but I really have no idea what you’re saying, you’ll have to come inside!” you sing-song and move over to the side of the tub facing the door to cross your arms on the edge and rest your chin on them to watch the door intently.

Honestly, you’re pretty convinced that Wonwoo will just give up and leave, that he’ll simply wait until you come out of the room of your own accord to talk to you then. Yet, after a few anticipatory moments, the door handle tentatively turns and your eyes light up.

You can’t help but giggle as Wonwoo shuffles awkwardly into the room with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He has the chest in one arm as his other hand remains gripping the door.

“Shut the door, you’re letting all the heat out,” you scold. It’s not true at all, there’s no chill entering the room at all. It’s always at the perfect temperature and Wonwoo knows that; he’s the one who designed the room that way. Yet he obeys and closes the door before pressing his back against it and holding the box with both hands. “What’s the matter, Wonwoo, something in your eyes?”

“N-no,” he stammers and lifts the box a little. “Why is this not in your room?”

“I don’t want it.”

“What?” His features scrunch in confusion. “What do you mean you don’t want it?”

“I mean what I said.”

“But…it’s for you.”

“No, it’s to make those people who are supposed to be family feel better about bringing me into this world for the sole purpose of sacrificing me.” That makes Wonwoo open his eyes to look at you incredulously. His eyes widen fractionally at the sight of your bare, glistening arms, yet he can’t see the rest of your body, so he manages to only softly blush shyly and keep his eyes open.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m always in the middle of those photos and my mother always said she’s not maternal, never wanted kids, yet she had me ‘for the love of family’. Which I’m pretty sure means this; sacrificing me for the sake of appeasing you.”

“Are you certain?”

“It makes sense.” You shrug and motion vaguely to the box. “Look for yourself at those photos and try to tell me it’s not suspicious that I’m always pride of place.”

Wonwoo holds your gaze for a moment before nodding slightly then lowering to sit on the floor and open the box. With gentle hands, he moves aside the doll to pick up the photos and look through them carefully.

“See, everyone but my grandmother, mother, and I change place.”

“I see,” he mutters. “That is strange,” he concedes and puts the photos away, plucking up the envelope instead. “Oh, you did not read your letter.”

“I don’t want to. Either it’s lies about them loving me, or the truth.”

“You’re not curious?”

“Curious? Yes. Willing to read the words? No.”

“Perhaps, I could read it to you?” he offers and looks back up at you. “Then you will know for certain.”

“Just read it and summarise, I don’t need it word for word,” you agree and move to another side of the tub so that you can lean back against it slouched down, only your shoulders and head above the water. Wonwoo immediately looks away as soon as you start to move so that he won’t see anything even if you sit upright.

He’s quiet for a minute or so, eyes stuck to the letter as he silently reads it before he lets out a disappointed breath. “Your suspicions aren’t explicitly confirmed, but it does seem like you’re correct. She states that this is your fate and such crap.”

You gasp and look at him in amusement. “Jeon Wonwoo! Did you just drop a very minor curse?”

“The situation calls for it.”

“Watch out, you’ll stop using coasters next, you bad boy,” you tease, giggling at the red that tinges the tips of his ears. “Anything else in that letter?”

“It does state that if you had a family of your own, children to look after, they would’ve sacrificed your childfree aunt instead.”

“So, I’m only good to sacrifice or raise children.”

“That…seems the gist of things, yes,” he confirms and folds the letter up to place it back in the envelope, then puts that in the chest to close it. “What shall I do with this now?”

“I don’t care right now.”

“I’ll put it somewhere for safe keeping until you decide.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t. This isn’t the only one of these I have down here.” He pats the box before getting up with it in his hands. He looks at you, seeming to have forgotten that you’ve moved, and immediately freezes.

“Are you a virgin?” you suddenly query. Wonwoo squeaks and vanishes, taking the box with him, making you snicker and assume it is a confirmation to your suspicion, however an unintended confirmation. It’s no wonder he reads such vanilla porn.

Although you still can’t tell the passage of time down here, you know when your family arrives at the crypt due to the fact Wonwoo sits at your side on the pillows in the main room and takes your hand into his. He never usually initiates affection, only blushes and accepts your own, so you know this is him comforting you.

“You can feel them?” you assume, giving up on your book and instead leaning closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.

He hums in confirmation and holds your hand tighter. “What would you like me to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“To improve our home.”

“Oh. I’ve always wanted a huge bed to spread out on.”

“A bed? That’s all you want?”

“Well…” For a second, you almost consider explaining to him what sex toys are, but you think that is too far and just nod. “Yeah, I saw this bed in a movie before; I’ve always wanted it. Can you recreate something from a movie I saw?”

“What is a movie?” You lift your head to peer at him suspiciously, expecting this to be another one of his jokes about being old and out of touch with modern living, yet he looks entirely serious.

“Oh, a moving picture to tell a story. Movies are usually somewhere between an hour and four hours long, but an hour and a half to two hours is the average length.”

“Are you telling me that not only have humans developed instant portraits but moving ones too?” he gawps at you in awed shock.

“I guess you can put it that way,” you giggle amusedly.

“Why do all of your photos not move if that is a possibility?”

“Ah, movies are shown on TVs or in cinemas, not on pieces of paper or in frames.”

“What are TVs and cinemas?”

“If you look in my mind, you can see; I’m not going to be able to explain it to you.” You motion to your head. Wonwoo glances at your head with an uncertain frown. “Why are you so against looking in my mind, Wonwoo? I am entirely consenting.”

“Because it becomes so easy after the first time. I have to create a link between our minds and that’ll mean I will be able to access your mind at any point.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“You will have no true privacy. I won’t purposely enter your mind without consent, but sometimes if I’m relaxed enough, my own mind opens up and travels, connects. I know that it will be a constant fight around you to keep to myself, I’ve never been so comfortable with someone before.”

“That doesn’t bother me.”

“In those moments, it won’t just be your memories I see. I’ll see your thoughts too.”

“You can read minds?”

“Only if the connection is strong enough. I’ve…I’ve never done it before, but I know I will with you.”

“Makes me feel special,” you joke softly.

“You are to me.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment here. Of sparks and racing hearts. Of flushed cheeks and a tightened hold of another’s hands. Of gravitating fractionally closer, before he looks away and plucks your book from your lap to look at in a slightly trembling hand.

“Wonwoo-” you murmur softly, wanting to bring that moment back and wondering what it will take. Although it was only a glimpse of something between you, you think that something could be exceptional, if only it would happen.

“A bed?” he asks, returning to the previous topic.

“A big comfy bed, with a wooden frame.”

“Oh,” he frowns slightly. “You don’t like the metal one? I thought it is very modern, and you would like it.”

“It’s noisy and the mattress isn’t comfortable.”

“Why have you never told me?” He looks at you.

“Well, at first, it was just because you looked so proud of it that I didn’t want to upset you, and then I figured there’s nothing to be done about it. But then when you got strong enough, I tried, but you always vanished or changed the subject when I tried to bring up you going in my mind to see the bed I want.”

“I apologise. If I knew it is so uncomfortable, I would’ve done all I can to change it. I’ll create a wooden framed bed which I hope will be comfortable for you.”

“Does that mean you’ll look in my mind?”

“No.” He shakes his head and hands you your book back as he leans back against the pillows propped against the wall behind you both. “I have seen many beds in my time; I can recreate one of those.”

“Many beds, huh?” you tease but he misses the insinuation and just hums in confirmation, making you giggle.

Wonwoo glances at you curiously but instead of questioning you, he just smiles and then motions to your book. “Read to me.”

“I don’t have a very good reading voice,” you warn as you put another pillow on your lap so that you can prop the book on top and hold the pages open with one hand, just so that you don’t have to let go of Wonwoo’s hand still clasped securely in your own.

“You have a beautiful voice, all of you is beautiful,” he disagrees softly, making you look at him and find him looking at you in a soft, tender kind of way that makes your heart race all over again. “I could spend forever listening to you talk about whatever makes you happy.”

“I don’t know enough about you to talk about you forever,” you retort, and giggle when his cheeks visibly warm.

“I- that- you-” he sputters before pointing at your book quickly and looking away. “R-read.”

“Whatever you wish, my dear Wonwoo.” You hum and turn your focus back to the book to do as asked, while Wonwoo watches you with adoration in his eyes and truly willing to spend forever like this. As long as he’s with you.

As more time passes with Wonwoo in the catacombs, you learn more about the man and he you. But what you feel the most important out of your newfound knowledge is that without a doubt, the spirit returns your feelings.

You can’t say that he is definitely wholeheartedly in love with you like you are him, but after almost two years together, you’re very positive that all of his shy blushes when he initiates affection first and tender smiles when you catch him watching you, can only mean one thing. Unless those things suddenly change when a human becomes a spirit and spends centuries stuck underground, but you don’t think so.

Still, despite being certain that Wonwoo loves you and knowing that it’s impossible that he doesn’t know that you are head over heels in love with him, nothing has happened between you. There have been a few instances where he’s lingered and you’ve waited, but he always turns away, or vanishes, or changes the subject so abruptly that you can only dumbly blink at him as your mind tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Although you have the rest of your life to spend by Wonwoo’s side, the rest of your life to love and be loved by him, you’d rather not have to wait the rest of your life to hear him admit to the words.

Part of you, a rather big part admittedly, wants to grab Wonwoo by his stupidly handsome face and kiss him until the confessions flow effortlessly from your tongues. And also, that your tongues wind up in each other’s mouths. You’d really like that.

But the other part of you, the logical part of you, knows that doing as much would make Wonwoo freak the fuck out.

If you’re going to do it, you need to ease him into it. Baby steps, so to speak.

So, one day when you sit down next to him to read like you do every single day, you press a quick kiss to his cheek nonchalantly before focusing on your book. No sooner have you found the place where you last read to, Wonwoo vanishes, and you sigh.

“Okay, even smaller,” you mutter and get comfortable in place to try to read your book while your mind is distracted wondering how you’re supposed to take a smaller step than kissing his cheek.

The same evening of the day you kiss Wonwoo’s cheek, you find out that perhaps, you took the exact right step, despite the fact the man hasn’t shown his face until he calls you for dinner.

Every single day, Wonwoo cooks for you; he insists on also laying the table and serving you himself. And today is no different. Everything is set up on the table already and Wonwoo is hovering behind your chair when you enter the kitchen.

You eye the meal set up on the table. It’s much more extravagant than he’s made in a while. “Were you stress cooking?” you wonder as you sit in your chair and let him tuck you in.

“No,” he replies too immediately to be honest. You snicker, though cut off in shock when he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before darting away to take his own seat.

For a moment, you can only stare across the table at his reddened cheeks and downturned eyes as he pretends to be entirely focused on serving the various dishes between you, always spooning your share onto your plate before he even thinks about himself.

When you’ve fully registered that Wonwoo had actually reciprocated your affection from this morning, you stretch your legs out to tap your foot against his, making him look up at you with wide eyes.

“This looks delicious, Wonwoo, thank you.”

“O-of course,” he replies and shyly moves his foot closer to allow your ankles to lock together under the table while he goes back to dishing up. But now, there’s a content little smile turning his lips up and you think that things will fall into place soon enough.

In some ways, things between you and Wonwoo change drastically after the day you first kiss one another’s cheek. At least, drastically for a shy, centuries old spirit who is skittish at best when physical relationships are even vaguely referenced, and infinitely skilled at disappearing at worst.

Every single day, Wonwoo kisses your cheek, sometimes multiple times, and he has even started to kiss your head when you rest it against his shoulder while curled side by side on the pillows to read. He doesn’t even hesitate to hold your hand anymore; he even bravely laces your fingers together to secure the tender hold.

Yet, in other ways, nothing has changed.

You haven’t discussed what it all means; that your feelings passed platonic long ago and are clearly very mutual. A few times, you’ve tried to bring it up. Yet, every time your voice turns serious, and you look at him so earnestly, Wonwoo clams up and vanishes; sometimes with a little squeak if he’s extra taken off guard.

Despite how you’d love to climb into his lap and make out with his pretty face, you know that’s far past his comfort levels and you’re okay with that. You can take it as slow as he needs, even if you’d rather the only slow is more in the slow and deep way involving zero clothing and your legs wrapped around his waist.

You’re more than willing to take it a miniscule step at a time, but you need to hear him say it. You need to hear him admit that he has feelings for you. Of course, Wonwoo saying “I love you” is the ideal scenario, but you will accept him simply saying that feelings exist in a romantic manner.

Although you’re pretty damn confident about how mutual your feelings are, there’s still a small, insecure part of you that taunts you with his inability to be honest about his heart. And unfortunately, that little part is starting to spread its thin, spindly fingers out to try and claim more space for uncertainty to grow.

It takes you some time of thinking on it, of not rushing through the mental process of trying to come up with a way to get the words from the man, before you realise that maybe trying to coax him into talking isn’t the way forward.

Perhaps, the best course is to bare your heart first and hope that he will follow suit.

One night, while you’re both getting up from the pillows ready to head off to your beds, you decide that despite being pretty sure that you have plenty of time left with Wonwoo, that there’s no time like the present.

“I love you,” you declare, abrupt in that the room was quiet before and there was no warning that you intended to speak. Yet your tone is still soft, still gentle to not disturb the calm of the room in hopes that Wonwoo won’t be so startled.

Instantly, he lifts his head from where he’s just gotten to his feet after neatening the pillows. His eyes are wide and a little wild, and lips parted ever so slightly. He looks like he wants to say something; that there are a million thoughts behind his eyes but he’s unable to catch any of them to create a response.

“Not just as a friend, though I do also treasure you in that way too. But I mean that I’m completely in love with you and want to spend the rest of my life loving you and being loved by you in return. I’m not expecting you to say anything back right this second, you can have time to gather your thoughts, but I’d like to know how you feel, Wonwoo,” you make sure that your tone is serious, yet still soft, still cautious of scaring him away. You want him to know that you’re being honest and that this is important to you; but that won’t matter if he vanishes before you can get your point across. “I can take things at your speed, but I need to know that this means to you what I think it does; that you feel the same way about me as I do you.”

Even though you usually kiss his cheek, and gain a kiss in return, every night before you part ways to go to bed, tonight, you don’t. Wonwoo is still staring at you as if he is frozen in place as his mind tries to decipher the meaning of life itself, so you really don’t think it’s wise to touch him right now.

“Sleep well, Wonwoo,” you finish with a little smile then turn and go to your room.

As you get ready for bed, you feel oddly lighter than before your confession. You hadn’t expected to feel this way because you’re positive Wonwoo already knew of your feelings. The man can literally feel your love, so he certainly already knew. But something about speaking the words aloud pushes those sharp fingers of insecurity away from your heart and allows you to breathe a little easier.

Just as you clamber into your big, comfy, wooden framed bed, there’s frantic knocking on your bedroom door.

In the three years you’ve lived here with Wonwoo, he has never knocked on your door like that. In fact, he’s never knocked on your door before. Your door is always open during the day when you’re awake, and he’s never had a reason to talk to you at night.

As quickly as you can, you shove the duvet out of the way and scuttle to your door to open it.

Wonwoo still looks a little wild, his eyes are still wide as they land on you, but there’s something new in them. Something determined that shines a little darkly and makes your heart thrum.

“I love you,” he rushes out firmly before deflating slightly, as if it took a lot of strength for him to admit to those words. “I have never wanted to spend an eternity by someone’s side until I met you. You are everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never knew I needed, and I never want to let you go. I hate your family for the pain they caused you, but I will forever be grateful to them for sending you to me. I love you with everything in me, and I will continue to for the rest of my existence. I wish I could spend all of my endless years with you, but I can’t, and it makes my heart ache to think of the day I have to let you go. However, until that day, I want to give you all the love I have. Will you allow me that honour?”

You blink at him dumbly for a moment before you slowly nod, unable to actually gather the words on your tongue. Though, by the way he lights up and smiles so brightly in a way you’ve never seen him before, you think he’s more than okay with your silent agreement.

“I’ve never kissed someone on the lips before, but I would really like to try, may I?” he requests, stepping closer and gently touching the tips of his fingers to your jaw, coaxing you to tilt your face towards him.

“Please,” you whisper, trembling fingers grasping onto his shirt over his chest. For the very first time, you’re the flustered one between you; mind still whirling with the genuinely unexpected and heartwarming confession, not to mention his request to kiss you added on top.

None of this is going how you played it out in your mind, how you thought tonight would go, and your heart and mind is a mess of Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, but there’s nothing you would change given the chance.

Wonwoo smiles at you softly, looking more like his usual shy self now as he carefully cups your face in both of his warm palms. You can feel the slight quiver of his fingers as they press gently against your skin, a sign of his nerves as he leans in.

Ever so carefully, Wonwoo brushes his lips against yours, almost testing the waters, before he tilts his head a little to the right and kisses you so tenderly that you think you would melt into a puddle by his feet if he wasn’t holding you. Your knees feel weak, and your cheeks are warmed so ridiculously for such an innocent and short kiss.

It’s more perfect than any first kiss you could’ve imagined with him. Even your fantasies of climbing on his lap and sliding your tongue into his willing mouth can’t compare to the truth of the simple and undeniable love of this kiss.

Somehow, when your eyes meet again after he’s pulled back, you think you love him even more than before. Your heart swells and he takes a shaky breath as his chest expands as if he feels it too. You think that by the way his heart races under your palms, he most certainly does.

Considering how shy Wonwoo had been for the first three years of your time together, you really had thought that was a good basis for assumption to how he’d be once in a relationship with you. You assumed, that if anything, he’d be even shier thanks to the added layer of affection and commitment between you.

But as it turns out, you do not know Jeon Wonwoo as well as you had thought.

The very morning after your exchanged confessions and sweet first kiss, Wonwoo greets you with his lips against yours and a hand on your waist. After breakfast, while he’s leaning around you to pick up your dirty dishes ready to take to the sink, he kisses you again. As he sits by your side for your morning reading session, he kisses you yet again, sweet and simple. When you’re both in the library looking for your next reads, he kisses you against the shelves with his arms bracketing your head and chest brushing yours. And so, the habit continues throughout the day, all the way until he kisses you at your bedroom door before going to his own for the night.

And the next day, the cycle repeats.

Of course, you never once refuse his enthusiastic kisses that grow braver and braver each one. There’s not a single part of you that wants to refuse, and you’re more than happy to accept him as far into your personal space as he wants to be. Even if it’s highly unexpected, but definitely a pleasant surprise.

Though, as the days pass and Wonwoo gets more confident, more adventurous with how he kisses you and how his hands press and pull your body to his heart’s desire over your clothing, you realise that you’re going to have to do something you really don’t want to do.

You’re going to have to stop him.

Sure, you’re thoroughly enjoying this, and he is too based on the increasing frequency and urgency of his lips against yours, but you don’t want him to get ahead of himself. He’s never admitted to having zero sexual experience before, but based on the confession that he hadn’t kissed anyone before you, you think it’s a pretty logical deduction that Jeon Wonwoo is a virgin.

An almost nine hundred year old virgin.

You’re probably more into that than you could ever admit. There’s a part of you that really doesn’t want to stop him, that wants to push him down the next time he groans softly against your mouth as his hands explore your body, that wants to show him what he’s been missing out on and absolutely ruin him. You just know he’d look so fucking beautiful with pink staining his cheeks, your claims blooming red and purple over his body, and eyes blissed out and glued to your body as you ride him until your body gives out. You think it’d be a great way to go out, honestly.

But unfortunately, you love the man far too much to not at least try to have an honest conversation about it all before climbing onto his lap and letting him experience things that his innocent, vanilla porn reading mind could never imagine.

You want to blow his mind as he blows his load, so to speak. But first, talking.

“Sweetheart,” you start, putting a hand to his chest to stop him leaning in again. Some time ago, possibly ten minutes, possibly longer, Wonwoo had backed you against the corridor wall just outside of the hot tub room before you could enter and immediately attached his mouth to yours. Of course, you hadn’t argued at all and had happily pulled him closer encouragingly. But now, your conscience is waving the morals flag and reminding you that you should be the bigger person right now, as the experienced one.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” he asks, frowning at you, looking very much like a sad puppy. It almost makes you remove your hand and let him lean back in to steal your breath away all over again with his thorough kisses, but you remain strong.

“I do, a fucking lot, but we need to talk.”

“About kissing?” He tilts his head slightly, utterly confused and only furthering the puppy likeness.

You suddenly imagine him wearing a collar and your brain short circuits for a few seconds until he tries to lean in again, assuming your silence means you’ve given up on talking. Though him pressing against your hand to try and get closer brings you back to reality, and you nudge him back again.

“My love,” he complains. “I want to kiss you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo and cup his face. “But we need to talk.”

“About what?” he asks, sounding impatient.

“That before me, you hadn’t kissed anyone.”

“Oh…” Suddenly, he leans away, pushing away from the wall where he’s leaning on one arm, and removing the other from around your waist as he puts space between you. “I didn’t realise it was so obvious. I’m trying hard to learn.”

“No! No, no! I didn’t mean it like that!” you insist and push away from the wall yourself so that you can take his hands into yours and squeeze reassuringly. “You’re not bad at kissing, like, not at all. I thoroughly enjoy the way you kiss me, Wonwoo.”

“Oh, that’s good.” He perks back up a little and adjusts his hands in yours to slot your fingers together and hold you more securely. “Then what do you mean if not that I’m bad at kissing?”

“Well, based on how much you back me against the nearest surface and kiss me so heavily, I’m pretty fucking sure you want to have sex with me, right?”

Wonwoo blinks at you a few times dumbly as he takes in your words and accepts that you’ve seriously said them to him. Then, his cheeks suddenly bloom pink, and he shyly looks away to a low spot on the wall behind you to your left. “U-uhm, y-yes,” he admits in a nervous stammer. “If-if you would like that-that.”

“I’ve wanted to climb you for years; I most certainly want that.”

“Climb me?” he questions puzzled as he looks at you, too bewildered by your words to be shy.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh!” he squeaks and looks away again, blush darkening beautifully.

“But based on the fact you’re new to kissing, I think it’s safe to assume you’ve never had sex either, correct?” Wonwoo hesitates before nodding, unable to look at you or verbally confirm your words. “Which means, I think we should talk about it; our desires and interests before we get that far. We need to be on the same page.”

“Isn’t that clear?” He looks at you again, once again puzzled and so innocent. “We wish to have sex; that is our desire, is it not?”

“Yes, but there are many ways to have sex, sweetheart. Some people like it rough, others don’t. Some like to involve toys, others don’t. And many other things that we will need to discuss, but for now, we need to discuss expectations for our first time together. What exactly do you want to happen, Wonwoo?”

“I…want to have sex with you?” He tilts his head. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Okay, bluntly; is all you want right now is to put your penis in my vagina?” Wonwoo’s eyes bulge and his whole face pinkens, tips of his ears so red they practically glow with heat. “Wow, if you blush so dark at that, you really aren’t ready for anything more.”

“There’s more?!” he sputters, practically shrieking.

“Well, have you heard of oral sex?”

“Oral? That means mouth…”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm and tug him closer as your lips turn up a little in a slight smirk. “Using the mouth to make your partner orgasm.”

“H-how?”

“Well, for example, I could take you to your room right now, lay you on your bed, pull down your trousers, and fill my mouth with your cock.” Wonwoo inhales sharply, fingers curling into the backs of your hands and lips popping open. “I could explain how I would bring you to orgasm that way, but I’d much rather just show you, if you’d let me. Can I show you, my love? Will you let me make you cum with my mouth?”

“Fuck.” It’s the first time you’ve heard Wonwoo swear, and it makes your blood fizzle with rapidly growing desire. Now that you’ve heard how good the curse sounds in Wonwoo’s low, aroused voice, you know that you’ll do everything you physically can to hear it again.

As soon as he nods in consent, you’re dragging him to his room to push him down onto his bed, more than just a little excited to do your best to earn curses and moans to fall beautifully from Wonwoo’s lips.

And earn them you do, repeatedly. It’s better than you could’ve ever imagined.

Time with Wonwoo passes in a way that feels slow, like a calm river gently flowing along as you float atop, curled up safely in his arms and holding him in return. It’s a content kind of life you live with him.

Yet, you age and are reminded that as much as you don’t want it to, your time with Wonwoo will inevitably come to an end.

Although you’re pretty certain that Wonwoo can’t feel your emotions, he always seems to know when that sour little stone in your heart weighs you down with the reminder that this, as much as you’d love it to, isn’t eternal. Only Wonwoo is.

You would accuse the spirit of reading your mind, but you know he can’t. He still refuses to look into your mind, even if he’s tempted to for the sake of learning more about movies, so he hasn’t created a mental connection with you.

Still, after five years, he just knows you.

“My love,” he says softly while watching you look at your reflection in the mirror on the dressing table in his room. Well, your shared room, but originally just his. Yet now, he’s added extra touches to make it suitable for you both, brought all of your belongings in, leaving your old room to David Bowie on the wall.

“Mm?” you respond, prodding and pulling at your face, at the delicate wrinkles beginning to fall into place with age, with the smiles and laughter Wonwoo brings to your being every single day.

You don’t hate the blooming wrinkles for what they are; proof of how happy you are. That even though you haven’t seen the sun or sky in five years, there’s nowhere in the world that could create these growing signs of a joyful life on your skin. Yet, at the same time, you hate them for reminding you that you’re nothing more than a human; destined to grow old while Wonwoo remains eternally thirty-six and has to watch you die one day. It's not fair to either of you, but you can’t do a damn thing about it.

“Come to bed, beautiful,” he requests softly, having watched you for the past almost ten minutes, watched your lips turn down the longer you observe your reflection in the ornate mirror.

You don’t argue, you never have it in you to refuse Wonwoo, especially when he makes his wishes in such a tender tone; latches his wants directly to your heart and makes you unable to do anything but bend to his will. It’s not his powers at work, just you being utterly whipped for Jeon Wonwoo. If he was anyone else, you would rather it was his magical, mystical, spiritual powers manipulating you instead of you just being a giant fucking simp for the man. But it’s Wonwoo, so you oblige willingly. Always happy to make him happy.

As soon as you’re under the duvet, Wonwoo dims the light and settles down at your side where he belongs.

For a few minutes, you lay there, both on your sides facing one another as your gaze turns unfocused as you think. For his part, Wonwoo just watches you, silently and patiently waiting for you to be ready to either talk or curl up in his arms to go to sleep.

When you let out a soft exhale, sighing a little and blinking your eyes back to him instead of staring over his left shoulder, he knows you’re ready, and by the way you remain where you are, he knows it’s not to sleep.

“What’s on your mind?” he questions, lifting his left hand from the mattress in between you to tenderly brush your hair back from your face, tucking the choppy strands behind your ear to not interrupt his view of you even a little.

A few days ago, you handed Wonwoo a pair of scissors and told him that you had full faith in his ability to not make you look utterly insane. He had zero faith in himself, but he still gingerly cut away at your hair until you were content with the length. He still thinks he did a terrible job and should never cut your hair for you again. Though, his unskilled job has at least lessened the strands that hang around your face, so when you inevitably ask again, he knows he’ll say yes. Just so that he can make more of your features unobscured to his adoring gaze without having to constantly push your hair aside.

Still, he’ll never cut away any more than this, if he did, he wouldn’t be able to brush your hair back and let his fingers trace over your skin. He’ll take any chance to admire your beauty and caress your skin, even if that means making chances for himself by leaving your hair just a little too long to not fall across your face and threaten to poke you in the eyes when you lay down. A perfect excuse to reach out and touch you.

“Do you remember what you wanted your future to look like when you were human?” you ask, tilting your head back a little to see him better.

“Not really,” he answers honestly, no hesitation in talking about his life those centuries back. It always makes your heart warm a little when he responds so openly regardless of what you ask; even his painful memories of battle and losing friends and family aren’t off limits when you ask. “I was more career focused.”

“General Jeon,” you hum, remembering that Wonwoo had once told you that he had been so close to reaching the rank of general before he died in a battle he wasn’t even supposed to be present for. But he had been over ambitious and stubborn, insisted he should be there because he knew it would better his chances of promotion. Yet the information hadn’t been accurate, and he and his men had been ambushed and quickly overwhelmed. Wonwoo doesn’t know what happened after that, if any of his men survived, or if they all perished thanks to his egocentric orders. You know that he has never let go of that guilt, but he also doesn’t have the strength in him to try to learn what happened, even when he could’ve found out in those years before he was bound to the crypt.

“I don’t think I ever considered anything else in detail. I only have a vague memory of wanting to climb the ranks until I was satisfied.”

“No intention of falling in love and starting a family?”

“Not that I recall. I was never interested in romance growing up. Neither did I have interest in peering into the brothels with the other boys to get a glimpse of the scantily dressed women. I just wanted to train, and study maps and battle strategies.”

“Nerd.”

Wonwoo sighs, making you giggle. His unimpressed look melts away and he smiles adoringly at you. “I will happily be your nerd, if you continue to giggle that way.”

“You already are, no backing out now.”

“I have no intention of doing so,” he assures and moves closer, smoothing his left palm over your waist and to your back to bring you close enough to tangle your legs together under the duvet. “Is that what you’re thinking about? The future you wanted?”

“I never had a specific plan in mind. I was content to just exist and live a happy life. The details never mattered to me. Except one thing.”

“Family,” he finishes, making you look at him as if he’s crazy. “What? You didn’t want to have your own family, children?”

“If it happened, sure, but it wasn’t a thing. I never fantasied about it or anything.”

“Then…a husband?”

“You’re shit at guessing, you know?” you deadpan, and he pouts a little. You can’t resist leaning in to press a soft kiss to his protruding lip, then giggle when he pulls you back in with his hand on your jaw to make you kiss him properly. Not that he ever needs to make you; you’re always more than happy to kiss Wonwoo at every available opportunity.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve made up for your teasing kiss, he loosens his hold and allows you both to settle your heads comfortably on the long, plush pillow spread across the head of the bed for you both to share.

“What did you fantasise about then, for your future?” he inquires curiously, hand settling on your waist under your sleep shirt where his fingers trace soothing patterns mindlessly against your skin, one of his favourite hobbies.

“I always wanted a cottage.”

“A cottage?” he repeats, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah. Every time I saw them in the older movies, those cosy little cottages with their cute gardens, and thatched roofs, and shutters on the windows, I always imagined living in one. Waking every day to the view of the countryside, going downstairs and making breakfast in a little kitchen, not too little, but not too big. Cosy. The whole house would be cosy. Always just a little below comfortably warm, so that I’d have an excuse to start a fire in the fireplace and curl up on a comfy chair in front of it and watch the flames dance. And now…” You let out a breath, lips turning down at the corners. “I can so easily imagine you there by my side, taking turns to read passages from the same book aloud, fire warming our feet and nothing but time left.”

“That sounds perfect, my love,” he says with his heart aching and knowing that yours is doing the same judging by your downturned expression.

It sounds like a dream; living with you in an actual house, somewhere where the two of you could step outside into the fresh air to lay on the grass and watch the clouds when the weather is nice enough to. Where you could go for walks hand in hand down country lanes, stopping to point out little animals and insects to one another. Where he could pick wildflowers for you every day and present them to you with the breakfast that he’d bring you in bed, so that you’d wake up and never doubt his love and devotion to you. Where he could learn to grow a garden lush and thriving, yet incomparable to your beauty no matter how many variations of colourful and delicate flowers that he filled it with.

“You’d like that, a cottage in the country?” you ask, smiling a little as your mind wanders further with the life that you can’t help but imagine with the man you are so wholeheartedly in love with.

“I’d like anywhere as long as you’re by my side.”

You shove him gently, smiling pleased by his words while he chuckles at your smile, looking nothing but entirely endeared even as you roll your eyes. “Cheesy fucker.”

“Mm. You make me like this,” he declares. “I think a sweet little cottage in the countryside sounds perfect. I would love to try to grow my own crops, to make even better, fresher meals for you.”

“Maybe I could take up painting as you tend the garden,” you suggest.

“You could paint the landscapes we decorate our home with,” he agrees.

“No,” you scoff. “I’d paint endless portraits of you. You’d be the prettiest view even there.”

“Ah.” He blushes, still shy when you compliment him so intensely, sounding so confident of your own words. He no longer argues with you, he even believes you now, that you really think he’s that beautiful, believes that he is. “I don’t think I’d like to have paintings of my face everywhere.”

“I plan to become an expert at nude portraits,” you say with a salacious smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at him for comedic effect. It creates the intended outcome, and he laughs.

“Okay, darling, I look forward to your masterpieces. You’ll have to paint a self-portrait for me to have on my bedside table.”

“Is it not enough to sleep next to me every night? You need me on the bedside table too?” you joke, shuffling closer and finally wrapping your arm around his waist. It makes Wonwoo relax, unaware that he even held any tension until it melts away with your hand caressing his back and your lips curled up into a sweetly happy smile as you peer at him with sparkling eyes.

“I need to have your beautiful face everywhere I turn,” he declares, trying to sound serious, but he’s smiling too much.

“Ah, should I paint a fresco of us on the ceiling above our bed? A tasteful, erotic scene.” Wonwoo just laughs before he kisses you, overcome with his love for you.

When the kiss naturally breaks, he starts to talk about the library in your shared cosy home, leading to further discussions of the hypothetical future while both of you giggle and smile, even as sleep tries to drag you under. There’s no rush to fall asleep, not when neither of you want to miss a moment of this.

It's a wonderful thought; imagining the happy ending you could’ve had together if you met as humans. But you didn’t. You didn’t meet as humans, and you don’t get your happy ending.

Although you spend all night exchanging sweet words and designing your dream cottage together, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

When you were a teenager, you had a friend who didn’t believe that love and happiness could ever last.

She came from a broken home; not because her parents were divorced, they were married and had no intention of parting ways, but because they remained together despite clearly no longer holding an ounce of love for one another.

Your friend watched her parents fall out of love as a child, watched their happy home turn into a darkened shell of what once was. And she lost the ability to believe that love really means anything; to believe that it’s real and can last more than a handful of bittersweet years.

You had never agreed with her. Even as a teen, you didn’t think it was right for her to have such a negative outlook. That her parents aren’t proof of anything, that they aren’t the rule to love, but simply two people who just weren’t suited to one another anymore.

Throughout your life, even as you distanced yourself from your family, you didn’t believe her at all. Even when your family sacrificed you and you realised that their love for you wasn’t what you thought it was, and yours for them vanished in the blink of an eye, you believed that she was wrong.

You believed that love looks different for everyone, but it can last; even with time passing and people changing and growing, love can remain.

Then, you met Wonwoo, fell in love, and you knew she was wrong.

Every day you wake next to him and love him a little more. Every time he smiles at you, you know that nobody will ever make you happier. You know that as long as you’re by his side, you’ll always know love and happiness.

You love Wonwoo with everything in you and he says he feels the same. He shows you that every single day…

At least, he used to show you that.

It takes you a little while to notice it, but Wonwoo starts to withdraw from you. Such minuscule increments at a time that you don’t notice at first.

Don’t notice that his eyes no longer shine as bright when he looks at you, the gradually muted edge to his smile when you say, “I love you”.

“Look at this, Wonwoo!” you enthuse, showing him your latest attempt at painting his portrait. It’s terrible, really utterly atrocious, but he smiles at you and accepts the little canvas into his hands as if it’s something precious. His gaze runs over the messy brush strokes and incorrectly mixed shades as you rest your chin on his shoulder from behind. “I think I’m finally getting that spark in your eyes right.” He doesn’t respond, just hums, gaze glued to the eyes that no longer reflect his own. “I’ll work on it. I have the rest of my life to stare at your pretty face and learn to recreate it on canvas.”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly as you pluck the canvas back into your own hold, ready to bounce back off to your recently created art studio.

“I love you,” you sing as you skip out of the room, smiling as Wonwoo returns the words, yet you don’t look back and because of that, you fail to notice the weight pulling down the corners of his smile.

Don’t notice that he doesn’t reach for your hand at every chance anymore, that he slips away more often than necessary to clean the catacombs.

Just as you sit beside Wonwoo on the pillows, a book already open in one hand and the other left free for him, he closes his own book and gets up. You look at him puzzled and let out a questioning noise.

“I’ve just remembered, it’s been a while since I’ve cleaned the Eastern most corridors,” he states, putting his book aside for later. “I won’t be long,” he says, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to your lips, but you don’t realise that he was going to walk away without even kissing you if you hadn’t puckered your lips at him in a silent request.

“Okay, I’ll keep your seat warm,” you declare cheekily while shuffling around to lay across the space he usually occupies at your side, but he walks away and you don’t even realise the significance of that.

But now you know.

Now you’ve noticed him pulling away and feel so stupid for not noticing sooner. For not paying better attention and tightening your grip before he could slip between your fingers.

Now you’ve noticed and can only watch as the distance grows little by little. You don’t know what to do to fix it. You don’t want to let him know that you’ve noticed, in fear that it will be the final push he needs to admit that he no longer wants to be with you. That he was wrong and his love and devotion to you isn’t eternal.

Now you’ve noticed, and you feel so stupid for not believing your friend when she said that love and happiness never lasts.

In the end, you don’t get the chance to gather your nerves and ask what went wrong. In the end, Wonwoo takes a look at you, at your pale skin hidden from sunlight for eleven years, at the lines on your skin showing the passage of time, your withering life, and he breaks.

“I can’t do this,” he chokes out as he watches you collect your nightclothes from on top of the dresser, beside where his own still remain neatly folded ready for him. Side by side like every night for the past years. Side by side like you belong with him, but he can’t face that anymore.

“Do what?” you ask, putting down the bundle as you turn to look at him puzzled and concerned, hearing the broken edge to his voice. Though, one look at him, the pain in his eyes as he looks at you as if it’s the last time, and you know. “Oh.” You feel the strength rush out of you and you have to take a step back to lean against the dresser behind you, lest you collapse into a boneless pile on the floor. “Y-you don’t want me.”

“I do,” he insists, getting up from being perched on the end of the bed to approach you and hold your face so securely that despite the past years of watching him slip between your fingers, you believe him. “I never want to be without you, my love. I said that and I still mean it with all of my heart. You are my heart. I can’t live without you.”

“Then what do you mean, Wonwoo? If you mean that, why have you been pulling away for so long?” You want him to argue. You want him to tell you that you’re fucking crazy for suggesting that he’d do such a thing. You want him to tell you that you’ve been imagining it. But he doesn’t.

Wonwoo’s expression turns guilty as his thumb strokes under your eye. “I am so sorry for that; that you noticed. You must be hurting.”

“I am. So, tell me why and we can fix it, we can make us both happy again.”

“I’m happy with you, I’ve never not been happy with you.” But the sadness weighing down the edges of his mouth and eyes down tells you another story. “And that’s why I know I can’t keep you here.”

Your heart stops for a second as a cold fear takes over your body. Your hands tremble as you lift them towards his hands, yet before you can make contact, he lets go and rushes off. “Wonwoo!” you yell desperately, scrambling to rush after him but he doesn’t slow down.

For the first time in a decade, you leave your home and enter the catacombs, following Wonwoo through the seemingly endless corridors while your calls of his name grow more and more panicked.

There’s something twisting and turning in your chest, dancing at the edge of your mind, taunting you with a suspicion you can’t understand with the terror growing thicker in your veins. You know with everything in you that whatever Wonwoo is planning, it’s not good. That whatever he wants to do, it will change everything irreversibly and hurt in a way that you’re not prepared for.

Your mind is whirling too much to even realise that Wonwoo isn’t vanishing like he easily could, that he’s staying within your sight; far enough that you can’t reach him no matter how hard you push your legs, but still close enough that you don’t lose track of him. He’s purposely leading you through the catacombs, but you’re too full of fear to notice.

It’s only when the air becomes lighter and you recognise the barely visible crest under your rushing feet that you realise where Wonwoo is going. Now that you’re crossing the main chamber of the catacombs, Wonwoo darts off, practically sprinting out of sight.

You can hear his frantic footfalls slapping down onto the stone steps. Somehow, you manage to push yourself faster in your sudden bout of extreme fear and stumble to the bottom of the stairs just as he reaches the landing at the top and comes to a still in front of the locked gate.

“What’re you doing?!” you yell in alarm as Wonwoo grabs onto the gate, skin sizzling as his hands glow with the visible use of his power. You’ve never seen his power before, only how it affects your home. This is something different, something incredible. Something insanely fucking dangerous. “Stop it!” you scream, running up the steps as fast as you can, toes of your shoes catching on multiple steps and barely managing to catch yourself as your wide eyes remain glued to Wonwoo.

“No!” he grits out through teeth pressed so tightly together that you fear they will crack and fall apart under the pressure. Your heart feels much the same right now as you watch the man you love with everything in you putting himself through such agony.

“Wonwoo, stop it!” you reach out but can’t touch him. He’s emitting so much power right now that it’s creating a physical yet invisible barrier around him. A shield of pure mystical energy that a mere human such as yourself has no chance of breaking through. “You’re going to kill yourself!”

“I’m already dead!” he snaps, looking at you with eyes so dark with the power flowing through him that he doesn’t look like the man you love.

You take a step back and almost lose your footing on the steps, almost tumble back, but something wraps around your waist, something that feels like a manifestation of his love as it pulls you safely upright. When your eyes meet his again, they’re softer, scared, and desperate, yet so full of heart-breaking adoration that you wonder how you thought for even a split second that this isn’t your Wonwoo.

“But you’re not,” he continues, voice a lot quieter now, trembling around the edges with the weight of the decision he’s made, a decision he still hasn’t let you in on. “I can’t watch you waste away at my side. You deserve a good life, the best life. I want you to have it.”

“I want to be with you, that’s all I want.”

“I know, I know you do.” He lets go of the gate with one hand, reaching out to you to gently brush his fingers over your cheek while his eyes roam your features as if he’s memorising every single atom of life within you. “I want you by my side too, my love. I have never loved anyone the way I love you, and I never will again, no matter how long I live. And that’s why I can’t let you squander your limited years with me.”

“It-”

“My love, please,” he pleads, using his power to pull you in closer so that he doesn’t have to remove his reverent touch from your cheek, his right hand still pulsing with light against the gate. You expect him to say something more, to try and explain himself further, beg you to understand, but he doesn’t.

Wonwoo leans in and presses his lips against yours as if it’s the first time. As if it’s the last time.

Your heart breaks and swells all at once, overflowing with your love for him, and perhaps, that was your mistake here; allowing him to kiss you knowing how it always sends your heart into overdrive with pure unyielding affection and adoration for the man holding you so tenderly.

You’ve always known that your love gives Wonwoo power, that it makes him strong, though you never knew it was something to wish to avoid. You never before thought that Wonwoo would ever use your love for him against you.

With your thundering heart strengthening him, Wonwoo succeeds in emitting a pulse of pure mystical energy that blows the gate right off its hinges, sending it flying across the crypt and crashing into the opposite wall. Immediately, the crypt around you starts to tremble; dust and little pieces of centuries old stone begin to crumble down around you.

You barely manage to blink at Wonwoo in fear before that same invisible force wraps around you and rushes you through the crypt, past the entrance doors that blow open as you near, and deposits you on the grand stone steps outside.

“What are you doing?!” you screech, trying to walk forward and return to your love regardless of the crypt falling down, falling to pieces in front of your very eyes.

Your heart is shattering, tumbling to the ground with the pieces of ancestral stone as the air between you and Wonwoo grows thicker with dust. You can see him watching you, can see the sad smile on his lips, the shine on his cheeks as tears stain them. You want to run to him, want to wipe away his tears and hold him close, even if it kills you. But you can’t. Wonwoo has created a shimmering barrier in front of you, protecting you from harm’s way. At least physical harm because you know that your heart has never hurt like this. You know it never will again.

He’s tearing your heart in two and yet, you still love him with every broken piece of you. You want to stop so that he no longer has the power to keep you away and you can return to him, but that very urge only proves that your feelings haven’t wavered the slightest amount.

“Wonwoo, please,” you desperately beg, words thick and choked out with the tears clogging your throat and spilling freely over your cheeks. “I love you so fucking much, please don’t do this.”

“I love you the same, sweetheart, that’s why I have to do this,” he responds, voice so gentle yet perfectly clear to you, as if he’s standing right in front of you, as if he never forced you apart. As if he’s not making you watch him be buried alive.

“That makes no sense!” you yell, slamming your palms against the barrier.

“To love is to let go.”

“No!” Your legs give out under you, weakened by the pain coursing through your body from your chest, and you drop to your knees, eyes still glued to him. “Wonwoo… Please, don’t let me go,” you sob, using what little strength you have left to stay upright, fingers doing their best to dig into the barrier and let you through. But it’s too strong.

“I have to,” he whispers, voice trembling as his own pain becomes too much to hold back. His hands curl into his shirt over his chest as he struggles to stay where he is, as he fights the urge to run to you because he knows he can’t. He still can’t leave the crypt even with the gate destroyed. He’s no longer trapped in the catacombs, but he’s still bound to this space, and trying to fight that would only shorten the time he has left to look at you.

“I-I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll see me again, in a long time. You need to live a long, happy life, okay, my love?” he requests, sniffling around his words. “Then when we meet again at the end, you can tell me all about the world as I guide you to the afterlife.”

“Then-then we’ll be to-together?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer, but the sad downwards tilt of his mouth speaks volumes. When your time comes to pass on, you’ll see Wonwoo again, yes. He’ll take your hand and guide you to your afterlife, but that will be the last time you ever see him. He’s a crypt spirit, an ancestral guide, he isn’t allowed to rest. He hasn’t been granted his afterlife because he has to guide your bloodline.

You shriek and jerk forward when a large slab falls from the crypt ceiling directly behind Wonwoo. Inches away from landing on him. “You need to leave!” you scream.

“I can’t, sweetheart,” he reminds sadly, raising a shaking hand slightly to at least protect himself with a shimmering barrier. He can’t die, but he can still get hurt, and although he doesn’t care about that for his own sake, he doesn’t want you to see him injured. He’s already hurting you enough as it is, he couldn’t live with himself if he forced you to watch him bleed.

“Wonwoo…” You want to beg and plead with him, yell at him to at least try to leave. He blew the gates off, something he should’ve never been able to even touch, let alone manipulate like that, but he did.

Surely, if he tries hard enough, he can leave the crypt. Right?

Yet, as much as you want to say the words, want to believe in them, you know deep down that there’s nothing Wonwoo can do. He’s trapped for all eternity thanks to your family.

It's as you remember that, that something occurs to you.

Abruptly, you stop crying and straighten up, chest shuddering and breath coming out in uneven hiccups still, but the tears cease as a surge of hope gives you strength. Wonwoo’s eyes widen a little as he watches the strange change in your demeanour.

“Y-you’re here because of my family,” you recall. Wonwoo nods slowly. “Because we want you to remain and watch over us.”

“Sweetheart…” Wonwoo says, shuffling forward, feet breaching the border between catacombs and crypt chamber ever so slightly as his heart twists with worry and fear of what you’re working towards here. He isn’t sure what you’re thinking, but his heart seems to be three steps ahead of his mind and panicking.

“If one of us sets you free, removes your ties to the family, you can leave.”

“No, no, my love, no,” he begs, rushing closer, dodging the pieces of the crypt suddenly falling heavier between you as he desperately tries to get to you and stop you. “I-I won’t be able to guide you!”

“If I don’t free you now, no-nobody will. You’ll be stuck here forever. You deserve to rest, you’ve paid your dues, Wonwoo. You showed me a love I never would’ve had otherwise.”

“Please, sweetheart, don’t,” he sobs pleadingly. “We won’t see each other again!”

“I know,” you say and smile at him, full of love and a pained acceptance for what this means. But you love him too much to force him to live a life of painful solitude after you’re gone. He deserves to know peace and to have his own afterlife. “To love is to let go.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to argue, to plead some more as he stumbles forward, reaching out towards you in a last desperate attempt to stop you before you can say the words.

“Jeon Wonwoo, I set you free.”

For the last time, Wonwoo vanishes.

Watching Wonwoo disappear into thin air is a memory you will never escape. The fear in his eyes, the pain, the silent scream of betrayal. It’s haunted you ever since that day, but you don’t regret it, even all these years later.

Not a day has gone by where you haven’t thought about Jeon Wonwoo, haven’t felt your old, barely patched together heart ache for the man who you still love with everything in you.

Decades have passed; you’ve travelled the world, made memories, met people, adopted some animals, lived in multiple different houses, and yet, you’ve never really found a place where you belong.

Not that it’s been a bad life, not at all. You’ve kept Wonwoo’s words in mind and done all you can to experience all humanly possible in your limited time. You’ve been happy, even experienced love multiple times, but it’s never lasted. Not when your love is still at home in Wonwoo’s heart, wherever he may be.

You often ponder about that; what Wonwoo’s afterlife is like. You hope it’s a good one, that he’s happy there, genuinely happy. You don’t want him to have forgotten you, but you hope that he’s not lingering on what can’t be.

Then again, wishing for him to have accepted that you’ll never see each other again is rather hypocritical of you when you’ve never been able to give your heart to another, and every night dream of a life with Jeon Wonwoo. A life you will never have, and you’ve accepted that, but you still dream.

Still, no matter how far you go, you always return here; to this heap of rocks that means nothing to anyone but you anymore.

“I wonder, can you see the stars tonight, my love?” you question once you’ve settled your old body down on the dusty steps, leaning back against the same old slab you’ve used as a back rest for almost six decades now. Your walking stick lays at your side, too far out of reach to be of use again, but you know that doesn’t matter. You know you won’t need it again.

The wind blows gently against you and although you know Wonwoo is no longer here, you always like to imagine it’s him responding, showing you that he hasn��t forgotten you.

“It’s the last time I’ll visit you,” you declare after a while of calm, content silence. Peaceful last moments. “I don’t know what my afterlife will look like, but I hope I remember you still. I hope there’s a shrine I can visit to talk to you. I know you won’t hear me, I know you don’t now, but I still wish for it.” You lift a rapidly weakening hand to brush your fingers over the stone under you. “I still love you with everything in me, Jeon Wonwoo, and I always will. Wherever you are, I hope you know that.”

You’ve pondered this moment for a long time, what it’ll feel like; if it will hurt, if it will be like falling asleep, if you’ll even feel the moment it happens.

In the end, it feels natural.

You get to your feet, feeling decades younger and turn to look down at where you’re laid perfectly still, eyes closed and looking nothing but content. Like you’re taking a nap in the arms of your lover. Peaceful.

“I’ve always known it,” the voice coming from behind you makes your chest tighten and eyes widen. You had thought that a ghost wouldn’t have a heart to beat, but you feel it thundering against your ribs as you shakily turn around and let your disbelieving gaze settle on the man before you.

He’s still so beautiful.

“W-Wonwoo,” you choke out.

“Hello, my love,” his voice wavers while his dark eyes shimmer as they take you in. As soon as he takes a step, you do the same and throw yourself into his opening arms with a sob.

There are so many things that you want to say, questions on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t voice them at all. You hold on so tightly to the man you’ve missed so dearly for the past fifty six years and melt against his chest as his arms clutch onto you as if he’s missed you just as deeply.

Although you know that it hasn’t been a simple short few minutes that you’ve been standing and holding onto one another, you know that it’s been quite a stretch of time, it doesn’t feel long enough. You never thought you’d see Wonwoo again and you had genuinely been okay with that, but now that you’re back in one another’s arms, you never want to let him go.

“Please don’t,” you whisper pleadingly when he tries to loosen his hold and create a little space between you. You grip onto the back of his shirt, the same shirt you had once admitted you liked the best on him, and he had worn it at every chance after that.

“It’s time to go,” he says softly, hands sliding across your shoulders and down your arms where they’re wrapped around his waist to gently unwind them from him.

“Please-”

“You don’t have to worry,” he promises, lifting your hands to cup his face, making you lean back to look up at him, uncaring that your cheeks are slick with tears you hadn’t thought possible for a ghost to cry. At least you’re not the only one who has visibly felt their emotions; his eyelashes are clumped with his own tears and eyes a little red. But he’s smiling as he turns into your palm to press an adoring kiss in the centre.

“But-”

“Do you trust me?”

“With everything in me,” you answer without hesitation, without any hint of doubt for the man. You have full faith in him and always have, even now.

“Then don’t fight it. Take my hand and let me guide you like I’ve been waiting to for all these years.”

There isn’t a falter to your steps when Wonwoo steps back, lowering your hands and lacing the fingers of your left hand with his right. You follow him, eyes locked onto him, and he smiles in relief.

He pauses just to lift your connected hands and press a kiss to the back of yours before he turns and starts to walk, and you follow.

You’d follow him anywhere, even if your mind is reeling with the image of stepping into your afterlife with your hands empty and no one at your side. But your heart doesn’t doubt him. Your heart trusts him, still beats in time with his, and where Wonwoo is involved, your heart has always reigned supreme.

Wonwoo had never told you what it’s like to guide a soul to the afterlife, how he does that other than taking their hand and walking with them. You hadn’t known how he accesses the afterlife; if there’s some kind of door, a portal, or something else. And honestly, even now, you’re not sure how it works.

You walk alongside Wonwoo, eyes glued to him and savouring every moment you have with him, uncertain which will be your last. You miss the moment you step from the living world into the next. You don’t even realise that you have until Wonwoo comes to a stop and turns to look at you with a nervous, shy little smile.

Silently, he motions forward with a tilt of his head, making you look forward and realise that you’re no longer in the cemetery you know so well after ninety years of life. You don’t know where you are, but it’s beautiful.

The air is crisp and clean, the sky bright and blue, the grass so green and alive and dotted with masses of beautiful flowers of all types, many you’ve never seen before. It’s like something out of a dream and a part of you feels like you’ve been here before, like maybe you did dream this up once upon a time yet forgot it, like most dreams.

Though the landscape isn’t even the point of focus, the thing that really catches your eye, that makes your breath stutter in your chest and eyes to prickle with a fresh round of tears, is the sweet little cottage in front of you.

Ever since you were a small child, you’ve wanted to live in a cosy little cottage like you’ve only seen in movies, like you hadn’t found the likes of no matter how hard you looked over the past decades. Nothing ever lived up to the image you painted in your mind’s eye, an image that Wonwoo had helped create as you spent nights tucked up together painting a mental picture together of a future life, a home you both knew you’d never have.

Yet here it stands before you.

“Say something,” Wonwoo requests barely above a whisper, hand holding tighter to yours when you just stand and gawp disbelievingly at the home before you for a few beats too long.

“It’s beautiful,” you manage to get out breathlessly, and feel Wonwoo relax at your side. You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t understand, Wonwoo. What’s going on? How are you here right now? Why are you not in your afterlife?”

“I am now,” he turns and takes your free hand, gently encouraging you to face him fully. “When you freed me and I lost my tie to the human realm, I was sent to the spirit realm and put before the Grand Council; the spirits who delegate a spirit’s position and can approve or reject the termination of a bind, like you did for me that day.”

“They rejected it?” you assume, gasping in horror.

“No,” he reassures, still smiling his precious, adoring smile as he watches your expression morph with every emotion in your chest. “They said that I had long paid my dues and could pass on.”

“But…you were the one to guide me.”

“I was the one to reject it.”

“What the fuck?!” you sputter, making him laugh. “Why the fuck would you reject it?! Are you insane, Jeon Wonwoo?!”

“Because I have never stopped loving you,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing, a natural fact of the universe. Jeon Wonwoo loves you; everyone knows it. “If I passed on that day, I knew I would never see you again, not the real you; just a poor imitation in my afterlife that could never hold a candle to you. But if I remained and continued to watch over your bloodline, I would one day have the chance to see you again.”

You blink at him as you try to wrap your head around his words, what they mean exactly, how he’s still here right now. “But the crypt was destroyed, where have you been?”

“Before the crypt was built, I could travel between the spirit and human realm as I wished, travel where I wished as long as I still fulfilled my duties. I’ve been watching over your family, but mostly, I’ve been by your side.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the meaning to his words settles in your mind. That through the past decades, you’ve never truly been without your love, even if you hadn’t known that. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“For the past sixty years?”

“At every possible moment. Admittedly, I did leave when you took bedfellows.” His features twist with distaste at the memories of witnessing you taking lovers over the years. It makes you giggle and his expression melts as he leans closer to you as if enchanted by your melodic laughter. “Even though I didn’t enjoy those aspects and always wished it was my hand you held and arms you slept in, I have never been truly sour about it. I’m glad that you found others to love and lived a full life. All I wanted was for you to be happy and healthy, and you have been. You travelled and experienced so many things. I experienced many with you too, even if not in the same way. It felt as if we experienced them together, and I’ve been happy to have you in what way I could these years.”

“But I never knew you were there.” You frown. “All the times I’ve talked to you and wished to hear you talk back yet only heard the wind.”

“I know, sweetheart. I always responded, always wished you could hear me, but it wasn’t time.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he agrees. “I’ve been waiting to guide you and I’m beyond glad that it happened naturally after a full life.”

As happy as you are to see him, to know that his devotion and love has never wavered, you’re still so confused about why he’s standing by your side in the afterlife. “Why are you still here?” you blurt suddenly, unable to hold back the question anymore.

“Do you not want me here?” he questions, frowning and suddenly looking hesitant, as if he had never considered that possibility.

“Of course I do, idiot!” you exclaim and watch his shoulders loosen as the sudden weight on his chest flies free with his momentary fear that you don’t want him to remain by your side despite still loving him. “I’m just so fucking confused! I thought you don’t go to the afterlife with the souls you guide!”

“I don’t ordinarily,” he confirms and steps a little closer until the toes of your shoes are touching. “When I returned to my role as your family’s ancestral spirit, I struck a deal with the council.”

“What kind of deal?”

“That I would return to the role willingly, for as many years as it takes until I can guide you as my final crossing, and then…I will stay by your side and share your afterlife with you.”

“What?” you murmur in shock, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Share it with me?”

“Yes, but only if you truly want me. If you don’t, well…you do want to spend your afterlife with me, yes?”

“I never want to be without you again,” you answer honestly, nodding firmly and holding on tighter to his hands. “Don’t you dare leave me, Jeon Wonwoo.”

“I won’t. I promise, I’m here for all eternity by your side.”

“Good.” You nod in approval. “What would happen if I said no?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have an afterlife. I would simply…cease to exist.”

“And you agreed to that?!” you baulk. “Wonwoo!”

“You love for me didn’t waver even as I forced you away. Even as I held you back and made you watch the crypt begin to bury me, you still loved me so strongly that I had the strength to hold you back. Even after that, even after freeing me and I was sent to the spirit realm, I still felt that love. I knew in my soul that you will always love me, and I put my entire faith in that remaining true until now and for even longer. For all eternity.”

“I would say your faith in me is crazy, but considering we’re here right now and I still love you as much as I always have, if not more, you’re clearly much wiser than me.”

“Well, I am over nine hundred years old,” he jokes, grinning teasingly as he leans down, closer to you.

“God, you’re so fucking old,” you groan playfully before tilting your head up to kiss him as if it’s the first time all over again.

At least this time, you know you never have to worry about a last kiss. You have all of eternity to kiss every inch of his pretty face, and body, to your heart’s desire. Something you will certainly take advantage of at every opportunity.

And there really is no time like the present.

“So, I’ve got my thirty-something-year-old body back,” you declare as your arms loosely wrap around Wonwoo’s neck. He tilts his head to the side, curious and silently questioning where you’re going with this as his fingers curl into your hips to hold you that bit closer. “If I recall correctly, there should be a huge bed in our dream home, correct?”

“Yes, that is what we discussed,” he confirms with a nod, eyes flickering a little as his mind starts to catch on to what you’re edging towards.

“Well, then I think that the combination of a young body again, a big bed, and sixty years apart means we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t you, my love?”

You can see the moment it all clicks into place in Wonwoo’s mind. His eyes widen as they light up in understanding, before his eyelids turn heavier, eyes darker, and lips tilt up in a smirk that never fails to make you feel weak in the knees.

“Oh, that we do, sweetheart,” he agrees and slides his hands down to the back of your thighs to pick you up as effortlessly as he always has. You’re momentarily very glad that his spirit strength has remained the same even now, but then he’s slotting his lips against yours and leaving you unable to do anything but wrap yourself around him and lose yourself in his touch.

Somehow, Wonwoo gets you both into the cottage and where you need to be, but you don’t pay any attention to anything but him, not yet at least. All you care about right now is being back in the arms of the man you love, and who you know loves you just as entirely; you can take in the décor later.

You have all of eternity left, after all.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

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wonwunss · 18 days ago

Text

–ᝰ.ᐟ✮ “happy birthday, my dearest”

pairing: wonwoo x f!reader

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: a little birthday gift in celebration of the light of my life’s birthday. missing him a little too much this days :( may wonwoo day also be a good day for us :) andd in case someone hasn't told you, you've worked hard today too! I hope you're happy always!

also,, sorry for the sudden inactivity. i'll try to come back sometime this week, i already have something written in the drafts

The cake isn’t extravagant — just a simple one from the bakery down the street. White frosting, fresh strawberries, a few little sprinkles because you thought it looked like something he’d smile at. You’d asked them to write “Happy Birthday Wonwoo 💗” in small, neat handwriting, and carried it home like it was made of glass.

It’s quiet when you step into the apartment. Dim lights. Soft hum of the AC. He’s curled up on the couch, glasses sliding down his nose, a book barely hanging onto the edge of his fingers. He looks peaceful — the kind of peaceful you never want to disturb.

But you’ve got a birthday song to sing. And you’ve stalled long enough to reach home exactly by midnight.

So you carefully light the candle. One single flame. Just one, just enough.

Then, softly — so softly — you begin to sing.

"Happy birthday to you…"

Wonwoo stirs a little, eyes blinking open behind his lenses. There’s confusion first, then quiet surprise as he sits up slowly, book falling to his lap.

"Happy birthday to you…"

A smile pulls at his lips. The tiredness melts away as his eyes focus on you, standing in front of him in your fuzzy socks, holding a cake that’s wobbling slightly because your hands are a little nervous.

"Happy birthday, dear Wonwoo…"

You’re grinning now, a little breathless from trying to sing so quietly. He doesn’t look away for even a second — doesn’t blink, doesn’t glance at the candle. His eyes are all on you.

"Happy birthday to you."

You kneel down gently in front of him, placing the cake on the coffee table. “Make a wish.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just stares at you, like you’re something he still can’t believe he gets to have. His lashes flutter once, then twice.

“I already have,” he says.

And then he blows the candle out.

The room smells like strawberries and soft wax. The glow of the flame disappears, but there’s still this warmth hanging between you. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“You really bought me a cake?” he whispers.

You hum. “Mhm. Walked through the heat with it and everything. Because someone decided to be born in July.”

Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Thank you.”

You shake your head a little, smiling. “No, thank you. For being born. For being here. For letting me be the one to celebrate you today.”

He doesn’t speak, but the way he holds you — arms pulling you gently into his lap, face pressed into your shoulder — says everything. You’re quiet like that for a while. Just breathing. Just being close.

Then you shift slightly, just enough to murmur the words right into his ear, soft as a lullaby.

“Happy birthday, my dearest.”

He lets out the smallest sound — a mix between a sigh and something too full for words. Like he’s overwhelmed, like your voice alone is enough to unravel him.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice thick.

You hold him tighter. “I know.”

And in the middle of your simple, quiet, candlelit celebration, you feel it — the kind of love that doesn’t need a big party. Just two people, a small cake, a whispered song. And a boy named Wonwoo who deserves the whole world.

You wait until after the cake is half-eaten and he’s curled into your side, arms around your waist and head tucked under your chin. He’s still mumbling things like “best birthday ever” and “you’re dangerous when you’re sweet” into your hoodie, in that lazy tone he only uses when he’s extra soft.

That’s when you pull back gently and say, “I have another thing for you.”

Wonwoo lifts his head, blinking like he’s just been woken from a dream. “Huh?”

“A gift.”

He furrows his brows immediately, already beginning to shake his head. “No, baby, I told you—”

You cut him off with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. You told me ‘just you,’” you mimic, voice a little teasing, “and then you didn’t even answer the question. You can’t expect me to not come up with something after that.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, then pauses. His smile turns shy, guilty, fond. “Okay, fine. I did do that. But-”

“Exactly.”

You get up only to walk over to the bookshelf, reaching behind the row of novels he’s already alphabetized twice and pulling out a small, neatly wrapped box. You return to him and place it in his lap like it’s something delicate. You don’t even say anything — you just watch.

Wonwoo stares at it, frozen for a moment. He runs his fingers over the wrapping, slow, quiet, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to open it.

“Can I…?” he asks, gaze flicking up to meet yours.

You nod. “It’s yours.”

He unwraps it gently, untying the ribbon like he’s afraid of damaging it, and finally lifts the lid of the box.

Inside is a handcrafted leather-bound journal — the kind with thick paper and soft pages, the kind that doesn’t crinkle when you write. Embossed on the front in tiny gold letters, nearly hidden unless you looked closely, are the words:

“for all your quiet thoughts.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just runs his thumb over the cover. Opens to the first page, where you’ve already written a note in your handwriting — a gentle message he hasn’t read aloud yet, but one that already has his breath catching.

He swallows hard. You watch the way his hands still. How his eyes blink rapidly, and his lips part slightly like he wants to say something — but can’t quite get it out.

“Baby…” he breathes, almost inaudible.

“I know you always say you don’t need anything,” you say softly, “but I know how many thoughts you keep inside. How many things you feel but never say out loud. So I just thought… maybe this could be a place for them. A place just for you.”

His hand comes up to cover his mouth, eyes still fixed on the journal.

You scoot closer, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to use it right away. Or ever, honestly. I just wanted you to have something that felt like… yours. Something gentle. Like you.”

Wonwoo laughs under his breath — but it’s wet, shaky, like he’s one second away from fully melting. He finally looks at you, eyes impossibly tender.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You were born,” you whisper. “That’s reason enough.”

He shakes his head, but he’s already pulling you into his arms. The journal rests beside him now, safe and treasured, and you’re wrapped up in the kind of hug that feels like an entire conversation in itself.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “So much. So much it makes my chest hurt.”

You hold him tighter. “Happy birthday, my dearest.”

He smiles, but his voice is thick. “Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“You said that about the cake.”

He chuckles into your hair. “Okay, you win. You’re the best gift. Everything else is just bonus.”

And in that moment — tucked against his chest, his heart loud and full and right there in your hands — you know the gift landed exactly where it was meant to.

Right in the softest part of him. Where he keeps all the things he never says. Except to you.

It’s well past midnight when you finally drift off.

You’d curled into his side after your second round of strawberry cake, mumbling sleepy things like “I’m glad you were born…” before your voice trailed into steady breaths against his shoulder. You didn’t even notice how long he stayed awake — still, quiet, his arm wrapped around you while his mind wandered far.

Now, you’re fast asleep. A peaceful little mound of blankets and warmth beside him.

And Wonwoo? He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with the journal in his lap, the lamp casting a soft amber glow over the room. His fingers graze the leather again — the one you gave him hours ago. He opens it slowly, reverently, like he’s handling something sacred.

The first page still holds your handwriting: a note from you. Loving. Gentle. He’s read it five times already.

Then he turns to the next page. Blank.

He hesitates, pen hovering mid-air.

He wasn’t planning to write anything tonight. Not yet. It felt too soon, like he needed time to think of what this journal should be. But now, with the weight of your love still lingering in his chest, and your sleeping form no more than an arm’s reach away — he realizes the words are already there.

He just needs to let them out. So he starts with a date in the corner. Then, slowly, he begins to write.

Page 1.

I wasn’t sure what to write here. I thought I’d wait. Plan it out. Start later. But I just looked at you sleeping, and the words came. All at once. I think this journal will have many entries. Thoughts I’ve been keeping to myself. But I want the first one to be about you. You’re the reason this day felt like more than just a number on the calendar. You made it feel like a beginning — not just a birthday. You gave me cake and a candle, yes. But you also gave me laughter. Safety. Home. You looked at me like I was worth celebrating. And that… that’s something I still don’t know how to process. I’ve spent a long time being okay with being quiet. Okay with hiding feelings. Okay with thinking “just you” was enough to say. But you never take my words at face value. You always hear the things I don’t say — And still, you give me more. You gave me this notebook. You said it could hold all my quiet thoughts. So here’s my first one: I love you. In the quietest, loudest, most permanent way. Even if I never show you this page, even if these words stay hidden between paper and spine —you should know: The first page of the place where I speak freely… belongs to you. Always, W.

He stares at the page for a long time.

Then he closes the journal gently, smoothing his hand over the cover once more. He sets it down by the nightstand — close enough to reach, but tucked away.

You shift slightly in your sleep, sighing softly.

Wonwoo turns back to you, slipping under the blankets, and pulls you close again. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His heart feels a little too full.

You’ll never know what he wrote tonight. But he’ll carry it in every look, every handhold, every soft “I love you” he breathes into your skin. And someday, maybe… when the time is right, he’ll hand you the notebook again.

He’ll say, “Start at page one.” And you’ll read the first words he ever wrote. And realize — he's been loving you quietly for a long, long time.

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen x you #svt fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader

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goldenhourology · 5 months ago

Text

SLACKING OFF.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers

summary: being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.

warnings: handjobs, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, grinding, praise, wonwoo is a service top!!, multiple sex scenes, jerking it in an corporate office bathroom lol, drunk horniness, miscommunication, reader is learning how to open up<3, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 19.2k

note: hello new ppl, welcome to the first goldenhourology one shot ✨ I've written things in the past, but this is my first really long one shot. the longer it got, the more I stressed out lol. but I've seen a lot of people do this 20k word one shots, so I thought I'd try my hand at it! also idk much about tech, so if I got anything wrong in this, pls ignore it. thank you to anyone who gives this a read!!

in rotation: picture you, chappell roan / dress, taylor swift / valentine, laufey / diamond boy, sza

Some said your late 20s were the last few years of fun before you fully allowed yourself to be an adult, so why were you always drowning in work?

It didn’t help that you were an executive assistant in one of the biggest software companies in the U.S. When you took the job, surely, you should’ve known that you’d be signing up for an exorbitant amount of work, ranging from invoice management, planning travel for your boss, to even research for senior managers. Despite the constant stress you were under, you liked this job. You liked the trust that your boss had in you. You liked that they let you be independent and figure things out on your own.

And when you couldn’t … you simply contacted IT.

It helped that a senior IT specialist sat right across from your cubicle.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the most talkative cubicle buddy, nor was he the most pleasant. He did his best to give you a smile every once in a while, but he had to fight the urge to throw his head in his hands whenever you send him a message on Slack. You didn’t typically need help with anything, except in the area of tech. You were so organized and incredibly smart – it didn’t take an idiot to see that – but god forbid, sometimes … you could be so technologically averse.

Maybe he just had too many years of schooling under his belt – he was 28 now with both a Bachelors and Masters in Software Engineering – but you surprised him with some of your requests. Sometimes, you’d delete files by accident, need to renew your subscription to important apps, even locked yourself out of your own computer once. He had interns underneath him that could be available to help you, but you had consistently messaged him. And he sat directly across from you. No matter what, it was always going to be Wonwoo that had to help you. Fate had made sure of that.

There were times that you realized you were bothering him. Either you heard him curse from behind his extremely large monitor or he adjusted his glasses so much that you thought he might break them in half. And to be honest, you liked being in control of your own work, so you’d try to find a solution. Typically, solving your own tech problems left your computer in more disarray.

And there was Wonwoo to save the day yet again.

You [10:58 AM]: Morning, Wonwoo!

You [10:58 AM]: I screwed up

You [10:59 AM]: Boss sent me some documents that were password protected, but he’s away for the next two days and not answering his phone

You [10:59 AM]: So I might’ve downloaded some software to help me unlock it and I think it’s attempting to hack my email as we speak

You [11:01 AM]: I’m so so sorry! I didn’t want to bother you

Jeon Wonwoo [11:01 AM]: I’ll be right over.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo was able to fix the problem and stop your email from getting hacked. Whoever was the owner of that virus-filled program you tried to download didn’t gain access to those password-protected documents before Wonwoo secured your computer. But it was close. Too close.

Not only that, but he had a multitude of other projects today. He had to train two new interns … have one of those annual performance reviews with the head of IT … change over a dozen new passwords for people … and then he found out that they’re changing servers. Which meant everything backed up on their former server had to be transferred over to the new one. Fucking great.

He wasn’t sure how many times he sighed today, but it had to be over a hundred. When he couldn’t stand to be sitting anymore, he stood up and paced around the third floor of the building. Today felt like the longest day of his life. And there was a mustard stain on his green sweater vest. And he got a shitty haircut a few days ago. And he probably needed new glasses because he was getting headaches.

It was time for a coffee. As well as a day off.

Coincidentally, you were also headed to the break room that afternoon in need of a green tea. You were about to walk in when you heard your cubicle mate letting out a frustrated breath while talking to another IT specialist. He was clearly fed up about something, or maybe just tired of this day. You hid next to the doorframe, and just when you thought it was safe to step out, you heard your name fall from his lips.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” Wonwoo complained, hands smacking against his sides. “Seriously, it’s mind boggling. I’m pretty sure she has her Masters in Business Administration, but she does this shit that just makes me … Oh my god, she literally tried to download some faulty software off the internet today, instead of just asking me or someone else for help.”

“Oh, yeah, everyone wants to turn to you when you got that attitude, man,” someone – Lee Seokmin, maybe? – joked.

“You get what a mean.” Wonwoo watched the first couple drips of shitty office coffee fill his cup. “I was able to save her computer, yeah, but it would be nice to avoid an emergency for a day.”

Seokmin slapped him on the back. “The joys of working in IT.”

You huffed, stalking away from the break room and back to your desk. There was only so much office gossip you could take, especially when it involved you. As soon as you sat down, you finished typing up an email at the loudest volume possible, your fingers basically punching themselves into the keys. You heard Wonwoo slide back into his desk chair, the fresh smell of burnt coffee wafting across to you, and he didn’t say a thing. Not that he would ever know you had eavesdropped. But not a “hello” or “how has computer been after this morning?” He went back to work, burning his tongue on the overly hot liquid.

Maybe Wonwoo was right; maybe you did need to just stop overthinking and ask for help instead of figuring stuff out on your own. Or maybe this asshole needed an attitude check.

You decided to not bother him for the rest of the week, complaining to your friends that Friday night about your shithead of a coworker. They said he might be looking out for you in his own fucked up way. You said he might just be an asshole.

Come Monday morning, you had realized your ignoring hadn’t effected him at all. He still sent you the same small smile as he walked in and sat down across from you. Could he really not see how pissed you are, or had the facade you’d crafted for so long as the perfect corporate employee work too well?

You should just be upfront with him, take control of the situation. Like always.

You [9:44 AM]: I heard you in the break room a few days ago.

You [9:44 AM]: I just didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I had tried to figure out the issue on my own. Didn’t realize that was a crime

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: Crap.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: You weren’t supposed to hear that.

You [9:47 AM]: Well, I did

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Listen.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Not that it excuses anything, but there’s so much going on at work. It wasn’t all about you. I was complaining just to complain and I didn’t mean any of it.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: I’m sorry.

You [9:51 AM]: Wow

Jeon Wonwoo [9:51 AM]: What?

You [9:51 AM]: You’ve never come across as someone who can apologize well

Jeon Wonwoo [9:52 AM]: Are you sure you aren’t projecting right now? We sit across from each other. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.

You [9:53 AM]: I thought you were apologizing to me????

Jeon Wonwoo [9:56 AM]: I’m sorry. Again.

You [10:01 AM]: Okay, you’re forgiven

Jeon Wonwoo [10:09 AM]: Can I make it up to you with a coffee?

You didn’t go out on dates. The last one you went on was … years ago, probably in undergrad. Once you go for your Masters, all energy to date goes out the window.

Not that this was a date. This certainly was not a date.

This was an apology coffee after work, since the two of you seemed to have an affinity for caffeine at late hours.

Even if, per chance, he thought this was a date … you’d eventually have to let him down easy. It probably wasn’t in your best interest to date someone like Jeon Wonwoo, but you’d also closed yourself off from love for far too long. It wasn’t that you didn’t get lonely – you did, very much, especially on late nights where it was just you and your favorite vibrator – but it was just … scary. Opening yourself up. Losing just a small semblance of control. You weren’t even sure you could physically allow yourself to do that after being alone for so long.

Your heart had been tucked away so many years ago, locked inside a box, and then in another box, and so on. With the final lock being so complicated that only someone who knew the last four of your social security number could answer. No one was opening up that box. Your heart was safe from the outside world.

You were independent, reliant on only yourself, and you liked it that way.

Once he had gotten both your coffees, he sat down next to you at a hightop table, folding his winter coat over the back of his chair. He had managed to remember your latte order and it tasted perfect. Your eyes flitted up, ogling him for a moment. When you’re not under the fluorescent lights of the office, Wonwoo was … attractive. To say the least. Maybe he always had been and you were too blind to see it. Maybe his face was perpetually hidden by his monitor.

His hair was tousled in the way that it looked effortless, even if he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed. He had a tendency to wear sweater vests with white t-shirts underneath, or button-downs with jeans. But it was only when he showed off his forearms that you realized he was surprisingly built underneath his oversized clothes. He was tall and his shoulders were broad. You liked his glasses too; they always sat on the edge of his nose. A thin line was etched into both lenses, suggesting age, but they framed his face well.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, he is handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, knocking you out of your stupor.

You blinked and looked down at your coffee, removing the lid. “Oh, I … uh … good question.”

“Listen,” he started, eyes flickering to his hands, “I’m really sorry about what I said –”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“– And I understand if you want to go to HR about this –”

You shook your head. “Wait, what? Why would I do that?”

He glanced around, until finally, his eyes were on you again. And suddenly, you were wondering if his eyes were dark brown or the color of cinnamon. “Isn’t that what any rational person would do?”

He had you stumped there. If this were a different situation … you probably would do that. “I’m not going to tell HR about this, Wonwoo. You apologized and said you didn’t mean it. I have to trust that.” And you didn’t trust lightly – hardly at all – but something about Wonwoo made you feel like it could be easy with him.

“We all have shit days,” you added, taking a sip of the scalding hot latte. “You have a ton of stuff on your plate. Doesn’t give you an excuse for what you did, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean. I have so many things to organize throughout the day, and sometimes it gets the better of me. Remember when I had book that last minute trip for our CEO and I was on the phone for hours with Delta and Suzanne in finance had the nerve to start bothering me about some invoice? I lost it on her for a straight minute.”

“Oh, my god, yeah,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the memory resurfaced. “Her eyes almost came out of her skull at your reaction. To be fair … Suzanne needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. She always blames IT when she can’t get into her email, but it’s because she’s constantly typing her password with one letter off.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Your hand hit the tabletop a few times as you let your workplace personality fade in front of your coworker. “Those new IT interns don’t know what’s coming once Suzanne comes for them,” you joked.

“The IT interns don’t know anything. Period.” He jabbed his finger onto the table. “I mean, they’re interns, but it takes so much time to train them. If I have to teach them JavaScript one more time …”

“Say it, Jeon Wonwoo,” you egged him on, a chuckle filtering at the end. “What will happen if you have to teach those good for nothing interns JavaScript?”

A slow smile made it’s way onto Wonwoo’s face, and … damn, you were actually a really cool person. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you what will happen …”

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: Did you bring lunch today?

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: I just found this new cafe down the street and was thinking about grabbing something there in a few. Did you wanna come?

You [12:14 PM]: Do you think they have a chicken salad sandwich on the menu

Jeon Wonwoo [12:15 PM]: I can only assume so?

You [12:15 PM]: SOLD

You both go out for more coffees, before and after work. You found yourself excited to wake up early, to meet up with Wonwoo at the coffee shop located in the lobby of your work building. Always getting there before him, you typically ordered two coffees – remembering his order to a T – and when he walked in five minutes late, he promised to buy the next round. You never let him.

You began planning lunches over Slack, discussing what was on special at that cafe he found last month. In fact, you two talked most of the day on Slack. A message from you had once gotten on his nerves, and now … he was eager for it. Eager to hear your thoughts throughout the day, excited to talk about what new dumb question an intern asked him today or to see more pictures of your grandma’s cats.

And Wonwoo … Wonwoo was easier to get along with than you thought. You just had to peel back the layers before he finally got comfortable, and honestly, you could relate. To be fair, you had a few more layers than he did, but he was slowly learning that you were more than what he perceived. After that first coffee, he realized how funny you were, and then a couple lunches later, he learned you were an avid romance and thriller reader – and nothing in between. It wasn’t until last week that he finally cracked you open enough to learn about your love for Elder Scrolls Online. He was sure you were joking at first, but when you clarified how serious you were, he almost fell off his chair.

“I’m not shocked that you play it,” he said over coffee one morning. “What I’m shocked at is that you’d rather play Elder Scrolls Online and not Skyrim.”

“Of course, you would say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really have an interest in the game universe. I started playing Elder Scrolls Online to relieve stress while applying to colleges, and then I just … didn’t stop.” You shrugged.

Much to his own surprise – even with your take on Skyrim – Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed your company. It was insane that you both had spent almost two years sitting across from each other before realizing how much you liked each other. Words always left unsaid. Eyes staying glued to computers. It had been a routine for you both that you had never strayed from – until now. So many tech requests over Slack … and now he was actively looking forward to work everyday. To seeing you. To talking with you.

You.

Jeon Wonwoo realized how much he liked stockings. Specifically, he liked the way you looked in them.

And that’s when things got dangerous.

He started to notice the days you would wear them, and then concluded which day you did laundry. You liked wearing blouses with a pencil skirt and stockings on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Those were now his favorite days.

Wednesdays you’d wear dress pants and maybe a sweater, whereas on “Casual Fridays,” you were clad in a t-shirt with a cardigan layered and jeans. You always looked nice at the office, but those stocking days … they were getting to him.

Sometimes, he’d watch the way you walked away from your desk – either to the Boss’ office or to the finance department – and he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your legs. You had these stockings that had a slight tear in the back, and he wondered if you realized, or was he just too much of a perverted loser to be the first person to notice? He wanted to purchase a new pair for you. He wanted to replace all your stockings and buy you enough that you could wear them with a skirt everyday, just so he could see you in them.

Maybe he was a loser.

You looked up at him, even in heels, and you had this way of smiling at him that left him questioning why you liked hanging out with him in the first place. His personality couldn’t be that charming to warrant your attention. But you were warm – even when your hands were perpetually cold – and kind, never straying once he was in front of you. And you had this lip gloss that stained your lips magenta and made them shine. Even in the dim fluorescent lights. When his chair turned just slightly and he let his eyes glaze over you, one finger rubbing at his top lip, he couldn’t help but be curious if the gloss had a flavor to it … and then, he’d get distracted by your legs again. And your blouse, and your hair.

Don’t even get him started on the way you smelled.

Maybe he was a loser. No, he was most definitely a loser.

It was a Thursday night. Almost 7 PM and you were still at the office. You had plans to go out tonight to celebrate your friend’s new job, but you ended up having to cancel when the Boss placed a stack of paperwork on your desk before leaving the building at promptly 6 o’clock. Why he couldn’t have given you all these invoices and memos hours ago was beyond you, but you weren’t even halfway through this stack and the janitor was now mopping beside you.

When a Slack notification appeared on the side of your monitor, you didn’t even read it before spinning around in your chair. There Wonwoo was, leaning back in his own chair while a progress window ticked on one of his dual monitors. You raised a brow. “I didn’t even hear you over there,” you commented. “Why are you still here?”

“A month or so ago, the IT head told me that we’d soon be transitioning servers, so all of our backups and data need to be transferred over to this new server.” He explained, adjusting his glasses and glancing over at the progress window. It changed from 23% to 24% finished. “Someone had to be the lucky person to stay after hours and make sure it all went smoothly.”

You twirled a pen in your two fingers and crossed your legs. “Oh, that sucks.” Your skirt hiked up a little, and just that small flash of exposed skin had Wonwoo averting his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m assuming you’re still here because of that.” He nodded towards the pile of paper.

“No, no, obviously I love being here after hours with you,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone, but it still ignited a short spark of hope within him. (Wonwoo, can you chill the fuck out? He chastised.) “You know the Boss has a penchant for letting invoices pile up. He just so happened to let that pile end up on my desk before he left today. And some of these needed to be filled out …” Your eyes skimmed the first paper on your desk. “Oh, yesterday!”

Wonwoo offered to help you while also keeping watch of his computer – 28% finished – but you insisted you could handle it. “I already bother you enough during work hours,” you said before turning back to your desk. He knew by now that you were simply too stubborn to give up control of the project. Once you had started it yourself, you needed to see it through. He wasn’t sure if you two were close enough that he could be completely honest, that he could tell you that it was fine to let go this independence that you kept on a tight leash. He was willing to help. (God, was he willing.)

But he chocked it up to telling you once that you were “so fucking stubborn.”

Your reply had come in the form of a swift kick to his knee.

Wonwoo glanced at his monitor. 67% finished.

It was 10 PM and you were just about finished with the paperwork, but you were running on fumes. Just a few memos left and you’d be done. To get you through the next hour, you needed something. So you headed to the break room, suddenly craving some burnt workplace coffee. (What was it about this coffee maker that gave it such a distinct burnt flavor? You’d never know.) After placing the pod of coffee grounds in the slot and filling the water, you pressed the start button, turning around with a huff to see Wonwoo striding into the break room. A crushed, styrofoam coffee cup was clutched in his large hand before he tossed it in the barrel beside you.

“How’s your transfer going?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Coffee had started to pour from the machine and into your cup.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s at 88% now. Hopefully should be done in the next hour.”

“Me too, if all goes well.” A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have a few more papers to fill out. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I haven’t looked through them all yet.”

Wonwoo stepped forward, reaching in the direction of the styrofoam cups. “If you had let me help you –”

You tried sidestepping out of the way to give him some room, but his hand brushed against your arm anyway. Your chin tilted up as your eyes met his, back pressing against the counter. “It wouldn’t have helped,” you finished for him.

His arm paused mid-air, and he looked down at you. Eyes narrowing, he replied, “You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. You have this desperate need to be in control of everything.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” Your tone took a hard edge. The last thing you wanted right now was to put effort into arguing, but you were tired and already on the edge of a breakdown. “I’ve relied on myself for as long as I can remember. I like being in control. I like being stubborn. If I didn’t do most things myself –”

“You ask me to fix something on your computer at least once a day.”

“That’s different.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and you noticed then just how close he was. Your chests were practically touching. “Sometimes you do try to figure things out yourself and almost break your hard drive.”

His progress window was probably at 93% finished now. He should head back to his desk, but his feet stayed planted right where they were.

“Why does it matter?” You exhaled loud, your hands slapping against your hips. “Do you want an award or something? You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. I’m not perfect, but I … I like things the way they are.” Change is scary, you thought to yourself, but didn’t dare voice it out loud.

He was so close that he could smell your perfume. The scent of lavender mixed with orange blossoms and vanilla filled his nostrils, swirling around his brain. He could get addicted to this smell, to you. Maybe he already was. When his eyes roamed down to your legs and he saw his favorite pair of stockings on you, he damn near collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t even realized the soft groan had left his lips until your gaze found his, your pretty irises growing wide.

You were just so … captivating.

His hands were on both sides of you, pressing your back further into the counter. Your black coffee steaming and fully abandoned in the coffee machine. He was holding himself back, his knuckles going white with restraint. But he wasn’t like you. He could only keep himself in control for so long. And with you here right now, your perfume surrounding him, your stockings-clad thigh brushing against his leg, your a hand placed on his chest … he was a goner.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, palm still resting on his shirt, “we …”

When your voice trailed off, Wonwoo’s instincts got the better of him. “Please, just …” One hand came up to smooth against your cheek, and he was almost out of breath as he pulled your face to his. “Let me do this.”

He gave you enough time to shove him back, to yell at him, to tell him you didn’t like him in that way. But your neck was craning towards his, and he took that as a sign to crash his lips onto yours. They were softer than he expected, and the taste … your gloss tasted like – well, like nothing. But if he pretended, he could’ve sworn there was a slight cherry aftertaste. His glasses bumped into your nose, but he’d been too overwhelmed to remember to take them off. Mouth moving against yours, his hips crammed you more against the counter, hard enough to leave a bruise on your spine. You didn’t care though. His shoulders were so wide that they shielded you, inviting your body into his, and your fingers fisted into his button-up. Tongues tangled, eager to taste more and more of each other.

Wonwoo could kiss you forever. You didn’t want him to stop.

But all good things must end. Because when he instinctively placed his leg between yours, he knew this was going too far. Especially because you two were still at work. In the break room.

He instantly removed his leg, his lips breaking from yours. Your eyes connected, the room filled with only the sounds of heavy breathing, before you wiped a trail of spit from your chin.

Wonwoo’s head spun behind him. Thank god, there was no CCTV camera by the coffee maker.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: Good morning.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: I shouldn’t have done that last night.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:10 AM]: Still friends?

You [9:14 AM]: We probably shouldn’t be talking about this on Slack

You [9:15 AM]: Here’s my number: 855-777-0821

You [9:18 AM]: But yes friends :D

Wonwoo did not want to be just friends. But he was utterly terrified of what you would say if he voiced that. You had kissed him back, yes, but … hadn’t you agreed to be friends far too quickly? You had both hung out post-kiss – he liked to call this period of time A.T.K. (after the kiss) – and you didn’t seem to be ruminating on it like he was. Of course, he didn’t know what you were thinking, and you could be so hard to read sometimes when your layers weren’t stripped back enough. But …

Could it really have meant nothing to you?

If that were the case, he didn’t know how it was possible for you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss even if he tried. When he saw you the next day – Friday, January 9, A.T.K. – the first thing he noticed was your lip gloss and all he wanted was to have it smeared over his mouth again. He noticed the way your hair fell over your shoulder, remembering how soft the strands felt when his fingers had slipped between them. He noticed that you were wearing those jeans that hugged your ass just right, and – god, now he was wishing that he had touched more than just your cheek. Wonwoo wanted to touch you everywhere. And vice versa. He didn’t care if your hands were constantly freezing or if they were dry during the winter. He wanted you to touch him however you pleased. He wanted to grab you and kiss you and hold those cold hands in his warm ones –

Oh, my god. He had a boner. At work. Just the mere memory of a kiss had him shifting himself in his pants underneath his desk, hoping no one noticed.

Eventually, he stood up, trying to keep a casual hand over the bulge in his pants as he fast walked to the bathroom. Nobody batted an eye, but you did steal a glance over at him once his back was turned. Your brow raised at the way he was practically sprinting for the elevator, not realizing that he was heading for the second floor restrooms. He must be excited for something. Probably a package, you thought before turning back to your computer.

Wonwoo felt like he could finally breathe once he was inside a stall. He rested his head against the cool tile wall, feeling the ache start to settle in his groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. What 28-year-old gets a boner from a kiss? You had him acting like a goddamn teenager.

What had you done to him? Just one kiss and he was completely under your spell.

(Or maybe he’d been this way all along.)

His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jeans as he finally pulled himself out of his jeans, stroking from base to tip. Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe his life had come to this. The last thing he ever wanted was to be that guy who jacked off in the bathroom. But you had to wear those goddamn jeans –

Wonwoo wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, but he was doing a pretty good job even as this was killing him inside. He wasn’t like you; he found it hard to restrain himself, to ignore everything that was bubbling up inside him. He could feel himself cracking. What would be the thing that finally broke him?

The answer was simple: alcohol.

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: Dude lol. Why’d you run away from your desk like that

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: I think you could win the Olympics with that kind of sprint!

Jeon Wonwoo [11:39 AM]: Don’t ask.

Lee Seokmin [11:40 AM]: Alrighty then ;)

Lee Seokmin [11:41 AM]: On another note … you free next Thursday? My buddy in the marketing department, Josh, finally has a night off from his kid so we were thinking of getting a group together for drinks after work. Interested?

The last thing you ever expected was to be invited to drinks with Seokmin and some of the managers in marketing, but Wonwoo said you should come. “In fact,” he had clarified, “you should come so I don’t have to deal with DK’s drunk antics all night.” Who were you to deprive him of your presence when he was that desperate? Plus, there was a nice girl in marketing that was also invited; maybe tonight was the night to befriend her.

But the marketing people knew how to party. You were only halfway through your second beer whereas the rest of your group was on their fourth. And three tequila shots deep. Wonwoo, seemingly, had an affinity for tequila, unlike yourself. He was able to throw them back like it was nothing; he didn’t even need a chaser. When Seokmin had requested they all get a fourth, he was met with a round of cheers, and even Wonwoo – quiet, introverted Wonwoo – threw his hands up with excitement. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure about that?”

Wonwoo felt his whole body freeze when your hot breath reached his ear. A pale, pink flush appeared on his cheeks, but you chocked it up to how drunk he was. Eventually, he waved away your worry with his hand. “I’m fiiiiiiiiine. Hey, how about I get you another beer?”

“Are you even coherent enough to get me another –”

“HEY! Bartender! Can I get one more of these?!” He shouted, waving your empty glass in the air. “Oh, and more tequila!”

Seokmin slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, laughing along with him. As you made friends with the rest of the marketing department, you found yourself glancing at Wonwoo every so often. His cheeks were so rosy now, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. To be fair though, everyone in this dive bar seemed to be in the same state of mind. Seokmin was singing along to the Sabrina Carpenter song blasting through the speakers. Josh was so drunk that he was crying about how much he loved his friends. They had even gotten Suzanne in finance to come out, and she was making friends with everyone for once. And Wonwoo … oh, god, Wonwoo’s head was now on the bar top and he was closing his eyes –

You abandoned your beer and walked over to your friend, shaking his shoulders. His eyes instantly opened, expecting to see Seokmin, but when his gaze met yours, he instantly felt all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” you said, trying your best to hoist this 6 foot man off the barstool, “you’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.”

It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell you his address, but you guessed you shouldn’t be surprised when the man on your arm was blackout drunk. After flagging a taxi, you shoved him in the seat next to you and rubbed your hands together to get them warm. Wonwoo’s head was on your shoulder the second you sat down, his eyes fluttering closed as the taxi sped off into the night. You watched his fingers twitch on his thigh as he whispered sleepily, “I think my family would really like you.”

“Is that so?” You chuckled, squeezing his arm for reassurance, but little did you know just how much your touch effected him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re you,” he replied, and then yawned. “Only you and Mingyu would do this for me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Mingyu?”

The taxi pulled up to a brick apartment building then, and your cold fingers struggled to get cash out from your pocket while Wonwoo was practically laying on top of you. Finally, you did your best to haul him out of the seat, thanking the taxi driver before gathering an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. The building was definitely old with vines of ivy crawling up one side. There was a dead tree with snow covering it’s branches directly by the door, spilling snowflakes on your head as you struggled to input the code Wonwoo managed to remember. And then, you were pulling him up two flights of stairs, which took far longer than you estimated. You had basically ripped his keys from his hand once you reached his apartment and continued to drag him inside, laying him on the old couch that was conveniently right near the door.

Wonwoo grumbled as soon as his head hit the armrest, and he almost fell off the couch if it weren’t for you catching him and rolling him back onto the cushion. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water,” you said, quickly rushing off to his kitchen. “Please, for the love of god, don’t fall off the couch again.”

He whined for you to come back, but you pretended you didn’t hear it, because if you did, you’d have to reckon with the tingle that bloomed between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

The entrance of his kitchen was right in front of a small hallway that sectioned off two ways. There was a bedroom door on each side of the hall, and once you walked inside the kitchen, you found a tiny table from the 80s and the dishwasher currently running. You didn’t have time to contemplate that now, and instead pilfered through his cabinets until you found a glass and filled it with tap water. Rushing back to his side, Wonwoo was already laying halfway off the couch and you sighed.

You set the glass of water on his coffee table and lifted him back up. With a little bit of help from you, you both managed to shrug off his winter jacket and you tucked a throw blanket over him to prevent him from falling off again. A heavy exhale slipped past your lips as you knelt by his side, and you couldn’t help but reach out to pushed back his hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You smiled to yourself.

Were coworkers supposed to show this much affection for each other?

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, and he cracked one eye open. “Do you want some water?”

He shut that eye again, grimacing at the thought of anything entering his body right now. “Ab…absolutely not.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” you persuaded, but he still shook his head. “Okay, so what do you want right now?”

His breath stilled for a moment. “Can I be honest?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I …” No, he couldn’t be that honest. “I want you to … keep p–pushing back my hair. It’s … relaxing.”

You chuckled, “Okay, you got it.” Your fingers were at the crown of his head again, smoothing back the strands. You hadn’t noticed until now that he had a freckle on the left side of his forehead; maybe you’d just never been this close to notice. Well, actually, you had. There was this thing you two did called a kiss –

“If you’re going to fall asleep, I’m going to take off your glasses,” you informed him, slipping his glasses off and setting them by his glass of water. It was late, much later than you anticipated on staying out, and you both still had to go to work tomorrow.

But then his hand was grabbing your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for how intoxicated he was. “Can I b–be honest again?” He slurred, his eyes half open to meet yours.

You sighed, placing your hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just know whatever you say will be used to make fun of you tomorrow –”

“I can’t … I haven’t …” He took a breath to formulate the words in his head. “… Stopped thinking about our kiss.”

You blinked down at him, watching the way his eyes began to close again as he relaxed into the old couch cushions. “You can’t just say shit like –”

He scoffed dramatically. “I’m noooot,” he defended, his hand slipping off your wrist to curl underneath the blanket.

“Wonwoo …” Your voice trailed off, the words dying on your tongue.

“Who the hell are you?”

You immediately got to your feet at the sound of another person’s voice behind you. Eyes growing wide, you took in the sight of the man in front of you wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chiseled abdomen as he shook a smaller towel through his hair. He might’ve been taller than Wonwoo, only by a little bit, and his skin was a golden tan that reminded you of summertime even in this harsh winter. Why was Wonwoo hiding handsome men in his apartment? The man looked at you, waiting for an answer, his brows raised.

“Oh,” you cleared your throat. “Um …”

“Leave her alone, Mingyu,” Wonwoo groaned from the couch, turning away from them to lay on his side.

So this was Mingyu, you concluded. This slightly god-like dude that looked like he walked straight out of a porno was the only other person who’d help Wonwoo when he was blackout drunk. Interesting.

Mingyu raised his hand awkwardly for you to shake. “His roommate,” he clarified.

“Oh,” you replied, grasping his hand for a moment and telling him your name.

Mingyu instantly grinned, laying the small towel over his neck, holding both ends. “So you’re her.”

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Perhaps there was no way to respond; the silence was comfortable enough. You decided to keep that in mind for later though.

“He’s … well, he got very drunk,” you informed Mingyu, gesturing to a now-sleeping Wonwoo with both thumbs. “I wanted to make sure he got home okay.”

Mingyu nodded, and then sighed. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry,” he promised, opening up the door for you. “Get home safe, okay?”

Wonwoo: Sorry about that the other night. I won’t get drunk like that again. It doesn’t happen very often

You: it’s okay! I’m used to handling drunk people

You: don’t get me wrong, I like to have my fun but it’s easier for me to take care of other people than like … be incoherent and anxious lol

Wonwoo: By the end of the night I was starting to feel that way. Not fun

You: DRINK WATER

You: your roommate is hot btw. does he always walk around without a shirt?

Wonwoo: Of course, he didn’t have a shirt on when you met him

Wonwoo: Everyone likes Mingyu

You: well, I like you [UNSENT]

The bi-annual sales meeting was started to boost morale and talk with other departments that you didn’t see as often. It was typically held at a hotel in the downtown city, with the company flying in all the sales reps from across the country. There were even a few from overseas. In reality though, this was usually the week where coworkers made mistakes. At least one person was let go after these sales meetings, and HR had their eyes peeled for an entire week.

You never made a mistake at one of these. And you didn’t expect to any time soon.

This was a week of rubbing elbows with slimy sales reps and making sure some old man hadn’t spiked your drink. For most, this was a week to slack off, but a woman working in corporate couldn’t relax in these settings. You’d been making corrections to your boss’ presentation for the entire company for what felt like forever. (Realistically, it’d been almost two weeks.) You probably went through the 50 slides at least twice as much, checking for spelling mistakes and making sure it was in the right place on your desktop. Not on some random external hard drive. Not in the trash.

But it was finally the day you’d been dreading. Presentation day, and everyone at the company was eager to hear the Boss reveal if they hit their goal for the year, amongst other things. You checked the slides another time, and then made sure no one would trip over the HDMI cord connected to the projector. The Boss gave you a reassuring smile, and then it was go time.

Your boss could be a shit bag – what CEO wasn’t? – but he had a way of speaking that made everyone so excited for the future. He was probably the reason why morale was always so high, and everyone looked forward to his presentation at these meetings. Your finger hovered over the right arrow button as he went through his speech, pointing out company statistics and what he wanted them all to accomplish this year, before finally getting to the goal reach. And his answer was nothing short of what the audience wanted to hear. He congratulated all of them, and everyone clapped together at the good news.

When you looked out at the crowd that had gathered, you realized almost every seat in the ballroom was filled. Some were even standing near the door and – wait, there was Wonwoo, leaning against the wall in the back. IT didn’t need to be here for this presentation. In fact, they were encouraged to be doing other things, like manning a table near HR and offering on-the-spot tech help. A smile made it’s way to your lips, watching the way Wonwoo was listening intently.

Once the presentation was over and the room erupted in small talk, your boss came over and thanked you for helping out yet again. “Of course,” you replied, as if there was anything else to say. He gave you a comforting squeeze of the hand before walking off to talk to some of his favorite sales reps.

As you shut your laptop and began to place your things in your backpack, Wonwoo slipped into the chair beside yours. Just the sight of his grin set you at ease, but also made you nervous at the same time. Why were you suddenly so nervous? This was just Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo. Just … your Wonwoo.

“Congratulations,” he beamed, giving you a high five. “I know you’ve been working on this all week, but you did it!”

You always stressed so much about this presentation, but at the end of the day … “All I did was press a button,” you shrugged.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t accidentally delete your file like every other time you’ve messaged me on Slack.” He chuckled, and you scoffed at his teasing. “I’d call that a win.”

The second to last night of sales meeting week was the longest night of the year. It was a tradition for everyone to go out to a bar the company rented out, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on while celebrating a job well done. You only saw half these people twice a year, and half of the time they’d have a beer in their hands.

You did your best to ignore every sales rep that tried to speak with you without slurring their words, but that was damn near impossible when some were already on their second cocktail. However, no matter how embarrassing it was, you did allow them to compliment you and your hard work. Who were you to turn down the validation? And when the time came, even your boss came over to compliment you again, and you realized there was truly nothing like being good at your job.

Just for a moment, everything felt okay. It was like the loneliness dissipated, the sting of years without pleasure or having someone by your side … it all faded when you were rewarded for your hard work.

Maybe tonight was the night you had fun for once.

When you finally found Wonwoo later that night, he was surrounded by a few younger members of the IT team, debating what computer language everyone should be obligated to learn. You waved to him from where you stood by the bar top, and that was all it took to have him walking away from his team and towards you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, insisting to buy you drinks for the rest of the night, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. If there was anyone here you trusted enough to hand you a drink, it was Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo.

The hour was reaching midnight now, and you weren’t sure how many martinis you had, but you were hiccuping a storm. That was a telltale sign that you were totally, thoroughly drunk. Wonwoo was only drinking beer and pacing himself, unlike that night at the dive bar, but he was enjoying the sight of you finally letting loose. You hung on his arm, staring up at him with your big eyes, glazing over from all the alcohol coursing through your system. He didn’t like how this effected him; he shouldn’t be attracted to the way your gaze looked while you were intoxicated. But he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes held the same shine while your lips were wrapped around his –

No, this was too much. He should take you back to the hotel.

The two of you glanced around the bar, realizing it was mostly cleared out. You definitely needed to leave now.

He tugged on your arm, wrapping one of his around your waist to support you. “C’mon now,” he grunted, helping you walk out. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn’t f–finish my drink thoooooough,” you argued, despite letting him lead you out of the bar. “And I can walk … on my own. Swear!”

“Listen, you took care of me once,” he said as you two walked into the brisk cold air. The hotel was, thankfully, only a block away. “Let me take care of you.”

Even with the alcohol pumping in your veins, just the sound of those words falling from his mouth made you grip him tighter. You felt like your bones were made of jelly, and it wasn’t just from the vodka. It was him, and the way he made you feel, and how secretly warm he was, and the way he took care of you as you took care of him, and – oh, god, you wanted to cry because you liked Jeon Wonwoo so much.

So, so much.

It was much easier to get you back to your hotel room than his apartment, seeing as this hotel had a working elevator. You slumped beside him, tripping over your feet every so often, as he hauled you down the hallway to your room. You gave him your keycard easily, and once the door was open, he squeezed your hand to silently let you know it was time to move again. He helped you into the room, shutting the door behind him, before laying you down on your bed with the clumsiness only he could have.

You were laughing now, hiccuping from the alcohol, but laughing nonetheless. And he was laughing at your hiccups. Or maybe he just liked the way you grinned at him.

He assisted with taking off your boots and jacket, too embarrassed to remove anything else. And it definitely wasn’t appropriate to either. Tearing back the covers, he nestled you underneath them, and said, “You got everything, right? I’m a call away if you need me.” He grabbed one of the small trash cans in the room and placed it at your bedside. “If you need to vomit and can’t make it to the bathroom, just use the trash can here –”

You hand came out to wrap around his forearm. “Stay, Wonwoo.”

Your sleepy eyes were killing him, making his inhibitions melt and his cock throb at the same time. He sighed, sitting on the side of the mattress, and before he could stop himself, he was tucking hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, his voice like a caress. “You know how it would look if someone saw me leave this room tomorrow morning. HR is on all our asses this week.”

“I know,” you slurred, and then pressed your flushed cheek into his palm. “I j–just thought you … were taking care of me thoooooooough …”

His resolve crumbled into a million pieces. This was complete, utter torture. You had to know how you effected him, but of course you didn’t, because you were stretching under the covers and yawning like you didn’t just make his heart stop.

That’s how he ended up in your bed, shutting off the lights and settling underneath the comforter. Until you came closer and rested your head on his chest. Despite how fast his heart was beating, he felt so at peace, and you both fell asleep in the clothes you wore out tonight.

Only a few hours later, you woke with a clear head and the beginning of a hangover. Your head was pounding like crazy, and it took everything in you to slip out from the comfort of your bed and pad your feet over to the bathroom. The bright light was burning your eyes, but you needed it to find the Tylenol you left by the sink. Filling a cup with water, you took the medication and prayed it worked sooner rather than later.

You squinted at yourself in the mirror, realizing you were still in the outfit you wore yesterday. With a sigh, you picked up the big t-shirt you left on the floor yesterday morning and stripped yourself until you were in nothing but your underwear. You pulled the t-shirt on and slumped against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold tile. Now this felt like heaven for your headache.

It took a couple of minutes to get yourself to move again, feet slapping against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom. You noticed Wonwoo was awake too, in the midst of slinking back under the covers, and you saw his jeans abandoned by his bedside.You crawled back to your cocoon of blankets, and he instantly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And you … you didn’t move away. In fact, you pressed yourself closer, finally hearing how his heart raced. Wonwoo didn’t care if it was probably 4 AM and he probably had to leave in a few hours – before anyone else woke – because he was holding you and smelling you hair. You smelled … god, you smelled so good that it made him hard almost instantly.

You felt his hand splay against your spine, as if trying to hold himself back, and it was then that your eyes opened. The room was dark, but you knew when his gaze was burning into yours only seconds later. You slipped one hand out from the covers, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed over his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered a soft, “Shit,” because you both knew where this was going.

You agreed you wouldn’t do this again. You agreed to be friends.

But now you’re kissing again.

Your hand moved from his face to his neck, and his hands are gripping your cheeks to make sure your mouth stayed on his. His fingers were shaking. He kissed you desperately, as if he needed this just to be able to breathe again, and maybe he did. You were like putty in his hands, molding yourself to his body as your tongue tangled with his. Whatever ache you felt in your temples drifted between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. And fuck, just the sound of you made his cock swell, precum soaking through his boxers.

The room felt so hot all of a sudden, but your cold hands came in handy as they rested on his neck. His left hand slid down to your ass, finally giving it a firm squeeze after kicking himself for not doing it when he first kissed you. That made you moan again, and he decided he’d never stop touching you like this, just so he could hear these sounds fall from your lips.

He slid his knee between your legs on instinct, and you didn’t hesitate to start grinding against his thigh. The friction felt delicious and soothing. You both kissed each other slower, a little messier, focusing on touching each other everywhere you dreamed about all these months. Your fingers traced down the column of his neck, down the thin cotton of the shirt he was still wearing from yesterday, while bucking against his thigh. His lips left yours, dragging across your cheek so he could nibble on your earlobe, feeling it grow warm and red from all the attention. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed you,” he whispered, and you damn near almost came from that confession.

You weren’t used to this; you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced pleasure like this with someone, but you couldn’t imagine stopping. Not when he angled his thigh just right, the muscle in his leg rubbing against your clit, your panties completely soaked. You cupped him over his boxers, feeling his bulge throb in your palm, and you cooed, “Can I …”

He groaned. You didn’t need to say more; Wonwoo was smart enough to know what you were insinuating. He felt disoriented, drunk off of you and your touch, smell, everything. “Are you … are you sure you don’t want to …” His voice was giving out, but from the way your fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, you knew you wanted just this, and he’d give you whatever you wanted. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s fine,” he finished.

You chuckled softly. He smiled against your neck. Pulling his cock out and wrapping your palm around it, you began to stroke him slowly. “Oh, god,” he was sighing into the crook of your neck, his brain in such a state of disarray when you resumed grinding against his leg while also pumping him from base to tip. This couldn’t be real; he had to be dreaming, but he could feel your wet panties sticking to his thigh. He could feel himself shake as he clung to you and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your throat. It was all too much, but not enough at the same time.

“Wonwoo,” you whimpered, and he dragged his lips back to yours just to feel how your mouth moved when you said his name. You bucked your hips faster, your arousal coating his thigh, and warmth bloomed between your legs. When your hand on his cock reached his head again, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over his slit, making more precum bead onto your knuckles. “Wanna cum with you,” you begged, stroking him faster and in time with your hips.

“I know you do, I know,” he breathed against your lips. “Just a little faster … yes, just like that. Fuck.”

Only a moment later were you trembling, hips stuttering as pleasure took over your body. You came hard, squeezing his thigh between your legs, and your cry was swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips. If he didn’t kiss you, he knew he’d moan so loud it would wake the entire hotel. Because – oh, god, he was cumming now, and he was sighing against your mouth as he erupted in your hand, ropes of cum staining your t-shirt. He could’ve swore he saw white. He’d never felt a release like this before; not with anyone else. Not even when he jerked off. But maybe it was because this was your hand and you were cumming on his leg, and fuck –

You were still shaking in each other’s arms, minds blank and reeling, bodies coming down from the high. It took the kind of strength that moved mountains to slip from his arms and clean yourself up. But by the time you came back from the bathroom and cuddled up next to him, Wonwoo was already fast asleep.

Jeon Wonwoo [6:08 AM]: I had to leave early this morning before anyone woke. But if you want, I’d like to see you at breakfast this morning :)

You [7:31 AM]: Jeon Wonwoo, I’m begging you to just text this to me

You [7:31 AM]: Also, was your phone hacked? Since when do you use emojis?

There wasn’t much to do on the last day of sales meeting week. The only things on your plate were to make niceties with some of the new reps, and probably attend a few presentations by HR. When you had finally woken up this morning to just you in the bed, you almost considered skipping the HR presentations, feeling too guilty and like they might see right through you. It was irrational, but you were sure that this was the only way to feel after realizing that you hooked up with your coworker and friend.

Not that you hadn’t wanted to. Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it since your kiss. No, it wasn’t like that at all.

So why were suddenly terrified to see him at breakfast?

You got ready as quick as you could – but of course, making sure you wore that V-neck sweater that showed off your cleavage just right – and threw your hair up before leaving your hotel room. The line for the breakfast buffet was packed, but you waited patiently and decided to sit near the bar once you plate was full. The rest of the dining room was filled with people and you weren’t awake enough to make shitty small talk. Sitting here at the bar top was peaceful and quiet –

“Is this … seat taken?”

Your eyes met his instantly, and you noticed the way Wonwoo was cringing at the line he threw at you. You decided to forget it, for his sake, and gestured for him to sit down. Fuck, you were so goddamn nervous, even though you had agreed to meet him in the first place. You wore this low-cut sweater for him. You both sat in silence for a bit, crunching awkwardly on the burnt bacon, and shifting in your seats.

“Did you …” You were surprised that your mouth was moving on it’s own volition, spilling any words that came to your head. “… Do anything this morning since you were up early?”

Wonwoo choked a bit on a strawberry, but recovered quickly. “Uh … yeah, yeah, sure. Once I came down here, one of the IT interns found me in a panic because he couldn’t set up one of the rep’s new work phones. Created a whole scene over nothing.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee. “Is that intern still breathing?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a slow smile growing on his face. “Yes, actually.”

You fell into sync then, letting the awkward silence melt away as you joked about Wonwoo’s interns. He wasn’t meant to teach college students, god help them. But as your plates became empty and a server came around to take them, you two were left with only the mugs in your hands, strangely reminiscent of that apology coffee he bought for you so long ago.

Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, so about last night – or I guess, this morning …”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you interjected, setting your coffee down. “I have a hangover, but I am thriving.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s good. But I was referring to –”

You almost couldn’t look at him when you said, “The fact that we’re definitely not just friends anymore?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that part.”

“I …” You licked your lips as you gathered yourself. There was this … terrifying flutter in your chest. You’d never felt something like this before, but you weren’t keen on letting it go. Not yet. “I would like to see you again. Like that. Definitely not during work hours. If you catch my drift. This is awkward.”

Wonwoo had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see him trying to hold in his laughter, but it was clear as day. You sighed loud and hit his arm, making him look at you once again as he snickered to himself. “You know, you could just ask me if I want to hang out.”

You leveled a look at him and huffed. “Okay, Wonwoo, do you –”

“Yes,” he beamed. “Always, yes.”

You found yourself at Wonwoo’s side more often than not. What used to be work get togethers transitioned to meeting up at a bar, or checking a new restaurant on the weekends. Sometimes he’d ask you to come over so you could taste test a new recipe he found. (Unfortunately for both of you, Wonwoo wasn’t very good at cooking, but he was getting better. Somewhat.) Those recipe nights, however, always led to him lifting you up on his creaky kitchen counter and kissing you so hard that you almost forgot to breathe. Until Mingyu came into the kitchen, making a gagging sound, and you two instantly detached from each other.

Friday nights were known as Mingyu’s Movie Nights, and Wonwoo began inviting you to those. He had said that this would help knock a few movies off your Letterboxd Watchlist, but you knew that was just an excuse for wanting to see you. You probably saw him more than anyone now, but you couldn’t deny that you … wanted to see him too. Having him in your life made everything suddenly better. He was kind and smart and thoughtful. He made you laugh in ways you couldn’t explain, and obviously … he didn’t have to do much to make you want him. He’d simply have to look at you and you’d get on his lap. If Mingyu wasn’t there, of course.

Wonwoo seemed to blossomed with you. He was more excited to leave his apartment, more eager to become a better cook. He spoke up often, whether it be at work or out with you, rather than letting someone talk. He wanted to learn all the things that you liked, wanted to touch you exactly where you needed it, wanted to find new ways to leave you breathless. Because it was for you.

Even Mingyu noticed a difference in his friend. He’d known Wonwoo for so many years now, but he’d never made this much of a change for anyone. One night, when you and Mingyu were alone in the kitchen, he mentioned, “He’s different around you.” And then kept pouring wine in three glasses while Wonwoo picked a movie from the living room.

There were also times where Wonwoo was a booty call, of course, and neither of you had any problems with that. Some nights, Wonwoo would call you after Mingyu went to bed, begging you to come over, but ended up settling for phone sex. His attraction to you in stockings only went up, and it was difficult for him to contain his arousal at work when you strutted around just knowing how it affected him. There was days where all he wanted to do was pull you into a janitor closet and fuck the living daylights out of you. But it wasn’t like you’d let him anyway.

You had your fair share of desperate moments too. Especially tonight, as you were out drinking with your friends at a local spot you’d been coming to for years. The live band was loud and you’d had your fair share of shitty margaritas already. One of your friends was tugging on the arm of some rando she met on the dance floor, yelling over the music that she was leaving and she’d text you when she was home safe. That left you shit out of luck for a ride home, and suddenly very lonely. The last thing you wanted was to drink alone at a shitty bar on a Saturday night.

Wandering outside, your heeled boots crunched in the snow as you looked for the nearest Uber. The fastest one around would take over 20 minutes to get to you, and as you looked around the empty city streets … wait, didn’t Wonwoo live around here? Maybe all the tequila was just getting to you. But you called him anyway, and despite the time reaching 1 AM, he answered instantly. He heard the slight lisp in your voice, and once he got out of you exactly where you were, he realized you were right. It only took him about 10 minutes to get to where you were, parking on the side of the road.

He sighed at the sight of you sitting on the curb, shivering and hugging your jacket around you. Various drunk people filtered in and out of the bar, but none of them checked on you – a freezing girl just sitting on the side of the road. “Why didn’t you wait inside for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your cheek when he pulled you up in his arms. Your dress rode up a little, and his hands were quick to yank it back down. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“I jusssst thought … the cold air would sssssober me up,” you slurred, letting him place you in his passenger seat before running back over to the driver’s side. His car was warm, making you bury yourself in your jacket, but his hand on your thigh was even warmer somehow. If your fingers weren’t so cold, you’d wrap your hand around his wrist, inching his palm up higher as he drove.

Once he was parked, he wasted no time getting you out and helping you up the stairs to his apartment. Mingyu was passed out on the couch, an old movie from the 80s playing on the TV, but you could hardly register it because your brain was spinning and Wonwoo was practically dragging you to his bedroom. He was grateful that all the lights were off so you couldn’t see how messy it was, but honestly, it was a miracle if you could see anything clearly right now.

He sat you down on the bed and you looked up at him with bleary eyes, which made you so fucking hard to resist. All the tequila you drank was pumping through your bloodstream, and you couldn’t help but fist your hands in his t-shirt and try to kiss him. He evaded your lips though – no matter how much he wanted to – and you whined, “Whyyyyyy won’t you kiss me?”

“Shhh …” He whispered, yanking off your boots. “Inside voice. Mingyu’s sleeping.”

You smacked your hands against his mattress. “He’s sleeping in the living room!”

Wonwoo got back to his feet, gesturing as he instructed, “Arms up.” You were too intoxicated to do anything but oblige, lifting your arms as he struggled to pull your dress over your head. Once it was off and thrown to the side with your boots, your hazy vision caught him looking through his drawers for clothes for you to wear. But didn’t he just take your clothes off? You could’ve sworn he did that because he wanted you too right now.

You protested when he tried putting you in one of his simple white tees, but your body felt too limp to fight. He slipped the shirt over your head before pulling back his comforter and wrapping you in it. With your eyes half open, you watched him come to the other side of the bed, yanking his pants down and crawling in bed beside you. He reached over you and set his glasses on the side table. You sighed dramatically. Now he was just torturing you. Wonwoo simply chuckled to himself, realizing what you were angry about.

His arms instantly wound around you, his lips pulled into a smile at your hairline. You looked up at him with a scowl and your voice slurred, “Whysss your eyes closed?”

Wonwoo snickered under his breath. “Because it’s late and I’m tired.” His hand on your lower back traced circles, attempting to coax you to sleep.

“I thought you wanted meeeee,” you complained. Your hand reached in between you two, smoothing your palm against his groin as he slowly started to harden under your touch. You heard his breath hitch slightly, so you kept going, a soft ache beginning between your own legs at just the thought of putting him in your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I always want you.” He then grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from him, and then lacing your fingers together. Pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, he sighed sleepily, “But you’re much sexier when you’re sober.”

You started to realize why you didn’t usually do this, why it had been so long since you let someone see every part of you. What you looked like completely stripped down – both inside and out – completely vulnerable for your person. How your face contorted during pleasure, and how it relaxed when you were taken care of.

Catching feelings like this meant giving up control.

You didn’t work on the weekends unless you had to, and when the Boss sent you a high priority email on Saturday morning, you didn’t hesitate. He had transferred over a bunch of sensitive files that were needed for a board presentation first thing Monday morning. But of course, something just had to go wrong: the files were corrupted and you had no way of figuring out what to do. And it wasn’t like your boss was on call like you were on a Saturday.

This was how you ended up at Wonwoo’s apartment.

You had called him in a panic, explaining what had went wrong, but he didn’t seem too fazed. He was used to your tech emergencies by now. But by the time you got to his apartment, out of breath after running from the train station, he had realized just how serious you were taking this. You both sat down on his couch and you let him work his magic. His fingers moved across the keys as if he were a musician, and you couldn’t stop biting your nail nervously.

Mingyu came back to the apartment after grocery shopping, waving at you before putting all the food away. Seeing as you were here, maybe they could all go out and have fun tonight. He went into the living room, ready to mention a band that was playing at a local venue later, but upon seeing the stressed look on both your faces, he exhaled. “It’s a Saturday,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why do you two look like that?”

“Corrupted documents,” Wonwoo answered quickly, not even looking up from the monitor.

“I don’t even want to know more,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack and tugging his arms through the sleeves. “Just your faces are making me anxious. I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”

You gave Mingyu a wave as he left, but Wonwoo was too focused to even say goodbye. It took about another hour and one cup of coffee, but Wonwoo eventually figured out how to uncorrupt the files. You let out a sigh of relief as he handed the laptop back to you and you were able to open each of them without issue. Thank god, you had managed to figure this out before Monday morning. And … having Wonwoo wasn’t too bad either.

“Thank you,” you beamed, not being able to resist pinching his cheek. “My hero.”

Silence engulfed the room as you both noticed how the sky was already getting dark. You cleared your throat, slipping your laptop back into your bag and muttering, “Thanks again. I know I kind of barged in and wasted your Saturday afternoon –”

Like the saint he was, Wonwoo simply smiled at you. “No time with you is a waste.”

Whatever words you were about to say clogged in your throat. You swallowed hard, attempting to hide your fluster, but you ended up choking out, “I … should go.”

“You don’t have to.” He stood from the couch, walking over to you and running his hands down your arms. His brow lifted. “Do you want to?”

You let the strap of your bag fall to the floor as your hands cupped his neck. “No, not particularly.”

Wonwoo chuckled, leaning in and letting his lips just lightly graze yours. “We have the place to ourselves,” he hummed, slowly dragging you backwards with him. “Mingyu’s gone … probably won’t be back until midnight.”

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, letting him lead you to his room, as limp as a rag doll. Once he shut his bedroom door behind you, he flicked the light on. You pressed your back against the door and your eyes roamed around the space. This was the first time you saw his bedroom with the light on; every other time had been pitch black. You liked that his walls weren’t bare – they were filled with posters of his favorite musicians or photographs. On his desk was a large monitor and a gaming set up, but also a camera with stacks of film next to it. His furniture was old – probably from the 90s, probably passed down from his family – but the scratches within the wood told a story. And unlike most men, his sheets were gray.

Wonwoo realized you were scanning his room, and he became acutely aware of the clothes scattered amongst his floor. He muttered something to himself, beginning to pick up the clothes piles and chuck them into his hamper. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I inherited the organized gene like Mingyu.”

You tilted your head, striding over and pulling him up, making him halt his actions. Your hands went to his face as you brought him closer. With a smile, you whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mingyu,” before pressing your lips to his.

The kiss became deep far too quickly, or maybe time was passing faster than usual. Your lips crashed so hard against his that they’d bruise. He took off his glasses, setting them on his drawer, before his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans. You stepped forward, making him step back, then another, and another – until you had him falling back on his bed. You straddled him, arching your back so you could lick into his mouth just how he liked. Hands sliding up his shirt, you felt his abdomen flex underneath you. His fingers in your belt loops jerked you closer, pressing your hips to his, and it wasn’t long before he was moaning into the kiss.

You smiled against his mouth, dragging your lips down his neck, and then even further, as you slinked down his body. Your eyes were trained on his, and he was trying his best not to look like a complete idiot in front of you. But it was difficult when you were looking at him with those eyes and – oh, now you were pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, practically salivating when you noticed how hard he was already.

But … this was what you guys always did. Not that he had an issue with you giving him blow jobs, but none of this felt particularly intimate. You never really let him worship you; you took control of the entire situation. As if you were bringing your professional stubbornness to the bedroom.

“Wait,” he choked out as you palmed his growing bulge. “Can we … can we try something different?”

Your brows furrowed and you continued pressing sloppy kisses above his groin. “Why would we do that?”

Wonwoo let out a frustrated sound, and before you could prepare yourself, he was yanking his pants back up and pinning you underneath him. You blinked up at him in surprise, and he was gripping your wrists above your head now, his bodyweight pressing you into the mattress. He almost looked shocked that he had the strength to push you back, but his blown-out pupils gave away his true desire.

“What was that for?” You asked incredulously. Nerves clouded your thoughts, making you stutter. “I thought … I thought you liked …”

“No, trust me, I do,” he assured you, and then tipped his head as he gazed down at you. “I just … why won’t you let me take care of you?”

You scoffed then, trying to cover up how petrifying this conversation was becoming. Were you that transparent now, or did he simply know you far too well for your own good?

“I have no idea what you’re –”

Wonwoo gave you one of his infamous leveled looks, and you sighed. “You’re in constant need of seeking control when it’s always at your fingertips. It’s okay to let it go; it won’t slip away.” He let go of your wrists then, but kept his body hovering over yours, holding himself up by his elbows resting near your head. “Please, just … surrender it for once. Let me take the lead.”

You glanced down at your hands on your chest, twiddling your thumbs. Eventually, you murmured, “It’s hard. I’ve never done that before.”

“Can we try? I like …” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then let his head fall as he chuckled to himself. “This is so awkward. I just – I like prioritizing your pleasure. It feels much better for me and I think it will for you too. And if you don’t like it –”

“I’m not good with change,” you blurted.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice taking on that husky tone that made warmth pool in your stomach. His eyes flickered to your lips now, noticing how swollen they still were. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. It was just a suggestion, and I probably ruined the mood.”

You shook your head immediately, allowing your fingers to tenderly sweep over his shirt. “No, I …” A voice in the back of your head told you this was a good thing, and you did want this, but the fear of change was overwhelming. You wanted to step out of your comfort zone, desperately, for once. You were allowed to do this; you were allowed to be happy.

Your gaze met his again. “I want to try.”

His eyes softened with affection, but then he asked, “You’re not just agreeing for my sake, right?”

“Now when have I ever done that?” You laughed, making him smile along with you.

But as soon as his mouth met yours, that awkward, giggling persona seemed to melt away. Jeon Wonwoo morphed into an entirely different person, someone that possessed your jaw in his large hand, pulling at your bottom lip before kissing you harder. It was enough to leave you gasping for air once he pulled away, spit connecting you two, and he continued to suck and nip his way down your throat. He made sure to leave marks in places that could be covered up for work, but he’d know exactly where they were. God, would he even be able to control himself at his desk, knowing where his bites were hiding under your clothes?

Tugging your sweater over your head, he practically whined at the sight of your breasts, constricted in the bra that you told him was too old once, but you kept wearing it anyway because he said it was cute. He lifted you for a moment, expertly removing it with one hand, before licking the valley between your breasts. You arched into him, sighing into your arm when he swirled his tongue around your taut nipple. He glanced up and realized you were hiding your face, so he pushed your hand off. “I want you to look at me while I do this,” he cooed, but it sounded more like a demand.

Despite the embarrassment, you did as he asked, feeling completely bewitched as you watched him cup the swell of your breast, tugging on your nipple. This felt like a goddamn Pornhub video. You two have had sex before, yes, but not like this. Never like this. Wonwoo had always let you do what you were comfortable with, keeping his other side at bay while you rode him hard on the couch. But this … this felt like something else entirely. The way he was lavishing both your nipples, coating them with his spit, demanding you to watch … Expletives filtered softly from your mouth, wetness gathering between your thighs. It suddenly felt too hot and your jeans were still on.

Wonwoo was taking his time with you though, and it was very clear to you that this wouldn’t just be one of those nights where you had sex for 10 minutes before ordering pizza. When he lifted his mouth from your left nipple, he asked calmly, “Do you like this or do you want more?”

You sneered, “Well, of course, I like –”

His hand came up instantly to pinch your other nipple, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that came out of your mouth. “No teasing,” he said, lowering his head to flick that nipple with his tongue. “Just answer me.”

“More,” you choked out, your hips arching off the bed, seeking friction. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss between your breasts once again, before lowering himself down your body. His eyes never left yours as he dragged his lips down your stomach. Eventually, he had to stand from the bed so he could finally unzip your pants, tugging when they got stuck around your ankles. When the cold air hit between your legs, you realized how soaked you were already. Wonwoo smirked to himself, slowly rolling your panties down your legs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you joked, kicking your panties off into a pile by his bed.

He lifted your ankle, nipping playfully, and replied, “Told you that you’d like me taking the lead.”

You rolled your eyes as he settled between your thighs, bending your knees back so your feet rested beside his head. You bit your lip as he placed sloppy kisses on your inner thigh, biting hard enough to make a bruise. Wonwoo fought hard to maintain a sense of composure, but god, the sight of your pretty pussy oozing slick made him wonder if he could cum untouched. You had let him finger you before, but had never been in the mood for this. And this was something Wonwoo had been fantasizing about since the day he noticed that tear in your stockings. He could jump for joy if that didn’t make him look like an absolute fucking loser.

He pushed your folds apart with two fingers, running a hand down his face as he attempted to school his expression. It was just so fucking hard to act cool when you were this aroused. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, deciding to quip, “Wonwoo, can you even find the clit without your glasses on –”

Without warning, he spit on your pussy and buried his face between your thighs. The words died on your tongue immediately, and you let out the loudest whine he’d ever heard in his life. He smiled, but that didn’t deter him from circling his tongue around your clit. He wound one of his arms around your thigh, holding you in place as he pressed his face further.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked and drew out the prettiest sounds from you, using his free hand to slip two fingers inside you. You tasted exactly like he dreamed about, sweet and tangy and so unmistakably you. He looked up at you from between your legs, curling his fingers in the spot that made tears prick at your eyes, and when your gaze found his, it was like something in him snapped. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled, feasting at you like he’d been starved for days.

Your fingers were in his hair now, pressing his head more into you, which only made this more enjoyable for him. He nearly came in his pants when your hips began to buck against his face, but this was about you. And him experiencing you cumming on his face. But mostly you. His fingers pumped faster inside you and his tongue was now flicking your clit, allowing more of your arousal to invade his mouth. He’d never get tired of this taste; he was obsessed. Now that he finally got a taste of you … he never wanted to not be doing this. Never wanted his face too far from the apex of your legs. Not when you had the sweetest taste that could move heaven and earth between these thighs.

And when you finally came on his tongue, he noticed that your legs shook like an earthquake. Your essence flooded his mouth, and he moaned – god, did he moan – lapping at you, never missing a drop of what you gave him. His fingers kept curling inside of you, making your orgasm feel like forever. When he finally removed them with a wet pop, he didn’t miss the opportunity to have more of you, wrapping his mouth around those two fingers and licking off the last of your release. You watched him, completely mesmerized by the way he savored you, even darting his tongue out to capture the whatever seeped out of you. Your hips jolted, suddenly so sensitive, and he grinned up at you.

You hardly caught your breath before he crawling up your body, kissing you hard and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and when you ripped your lips away from his, you arched a brow. “You are still fully clothed,” you reminded, and then swiped at the spit lining his bottom lip.

Wonwoo simply smiled, ghosting his lips over yours before trailing them to your ear. “I’m getting to that part. Patience,” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. “You must really want me inside you.”

“I want to not be the only one naked.”

“Say it,” he prodded in a weirdly casual tone.

“What?”

“Say you want me inside you.”

“This is ridiculous –”

He lifted his head from your jawline. “I can easily leave this room and order a pizza,” he teased, and you blinked at him. He was actually being serious. He would completely ignore what looked like a throbbing erection in his pants, just to make a point. You knew he wasn’t trying to be mean; he wanted to get you out of your comfort zone. This was so stupid, because you did want him inside you. Embarrassingly so. He had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life, but you still had this … aching need to be filled. Your cheeks heated just at the thought of it.

“I …” Your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to make your whole face turn bright red. With a sigh, your eyes connected again, and you answered, “I want you inside me, Wonwoo.”

He rewarded you with a kiss, pulling away before it could get too heated again, and stood from the bed. “Well, when you ask nicely …” He smiled, that dominating demeanor slipping for a moment as he pulled his shirt off. You’d never get tired of the way Wonwoo looked without a shirt. He didn’t let anyone see it very often – he wasn’t like his roommate – but the moments he did, you felt eternally grateful. His torso was toned, with defined abs and pecks that made your mind boggle. You liked that his arms were long and muscled; his hands large and slightly calloused.

You liked everything about him.

When he finally went to kick off his sweatpants, he noticed a large precum stain on the gray fabric from just eating you out. Which was probably the biggest jab to his calm and collected attitude right now, but he didn’t let it slip. He simply threw the sweatpants to the side, coming up close to the bed again, where your legs were now hanging off the edge. You gazed up at him as if he held the world in his palms, watching the way he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, never used to the size. He was slightly thicker than average, but long. Longer than you ever expected. With a pretty pink head leaking sticky precum.

It was killing you how long he was taking. Your legs shifted, ready to make a move to yank him underneath you, but he was faster than you. He pinned your wrists about your head with one hand this time, using his other to keep a firm grip on his cock. “You want to be in control that badly, huh?” He asked, tilting his head.

His hand was moving up and down his shaft now, letting precum dribble on your stomach. Your eyes flickered from his cock back to his eyes. “I just … I need you, Wonwoo,” you begged, your voice taking on a new tone. And somehow … wanting him so bad like this was ten times more arousing than riding him on the couch. “Please, please, Wonwoo. Please, fuck me.”

Your pleas had him falling apart, and he sighed, letting go of your wrists to discard his boxers too. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and aching and – fuck, had he always been veiny? He got on top of you again, cooing against your lips, “I know, baby, I know.” His rubbed the underside of his length against your wet folds, moaning at the slightest bit of friction. “I’ll fuck you real good. I promise.”

Pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, his breath hitched at just the feeling of your arousal coating his shaft. You both had never taken your time with sex. But he was doing that tonight now that he was in control, letting himself slowly push inside you, feel you completely stretch open for him. You mewled, slinking your arms around his neck and carding your fingers at the nape. And when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his lips fell open and he groaned. You felt so good he could cum right now, but he needed to get a grip. The last thing he needed was to cum too fast.

Not that you would like him any less if he did.

“Wonwoo,” you cried, your hips arching up to meet his. “Please.”

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. He settled more on top of you, resting his elbows on both sides of your head, and pulled all the way out so only the tip remained. You whined at the emptiness, which soon changed to a gasp when he bullied his cock back in. Your fingers tugged at his hair; your legs crossed around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, still feeling how tight you were, how you molded yourself for him. “So fucking … god, so wet.”

His restraint could only last so long. He’d gotten his fill of feeling you adjust around him. He couldn’t take this anymore, or he was going to cum before you both had even started. With a deep breath, he set a brutal pace inside of you, his hips snapping forward. Tears rolled down your cheeks; how could something feel so good that you cried? Wonwoo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning, “God, so good … you feel so good … how can anyone feel this good?”

The only word you could choke out was, “Ditto,” which you’d regret for hours after this. But now was not the time.

He was fucking into you so hard that you were already sore, but you were holding onto him for dear life, clinging to him as that warmth burned in your gut. The way his cock curved and grazed your g-spot perfectly, making you tremble and whimper his name like a prayer. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling how deep his cock nestled inside you, and you noticed him shiver in your arms. He was trying desperately to fight off his release. That coil in your gut began to tighten, and from the way Wonwoo was breathing, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted you to cum first though – like always – wanted to feel you clamp around him, squeeze him so tight that he saw white.

So he did what he did best: reached in between your bodies, finding your swollen, sensitive clit so easily, and rubbed slow circles. He lifted his head from your neck, wanting to see that familiar look in your eyes when you saw stars. “Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice was so deep that it reverberated against your chest.

And finally, as he pressed his thumb down hard and pushed into you just right, you felt your orgasm crest. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you sobbed, body shaking as you came undone.

But Wonwoo wasn’t stopping. He kept fucking into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And when your walls squeezed him so tight, he buried himself completely and came hard, a generous amount of fucks leaving his lips. His cheek pressed against yours; his groans muffled by the comforter. You held him close as he filled you to the brink with his release, and it almost felt like hours before he realized he finished.

You exhaled together, allowing your heart rates to settle. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then to your nose, and now he was kissing all over your face. Your cheeks instantly tinged pink, but you let him do as he pleased. He didn’t even make a move off you, letting his cock soften inside your warmth. When your eyes opened, he was staring down at you like you were the sun. You searched his eyes, “What?”

His dark gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you really say, ‘Ditto,’ during sex?”

You and Wonwoo had gotten into a routine. Of course, you saw him 5 days out of the week at work, but you wanted more of him. You figured out Mingyu’s schedule, coming over most nights when he wasn’t home – besides Mingyu’s Movie Nights. You would let Wonwoo cook for you, and he promised he was getting better, before he led you to his room with kisses to your neck and a firm grip on your hand.

He always went with whatever you were comfortable with, but you found yourself letting him take the lead more often than not. You liked letting him prioritize you; you liked being selfish with him. Giving up control felt … much better than anticipated. Everything about this felt too good to be true. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t want to spoil it by asking him the dreaded, “What are we?” For now, you’d exist in your safe little bubble, where he would smile at you at work and then fuck your brains out after hours. It felt perfect, simple.

You approached sex through a different lens now. Instead of simply riding him on that godforsaken old couch, you let him go at his own pace: placing you on his lap, having his way with you and making you cum at least 3 times before he sunk you down on his cock, bouncing you up and down as you clung to him, practically letting him use you as a flesh light. Even when he let you sit on his face, it was on his terms: his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark, trying to suffocate himself with your pussy, not allowing you to cum until he said so, no matter how much you needed to. But it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want this to stop. You liked the lack of control, liked the way he took care of you. The way he bent your knees back as he slid into you, keeping eye contact, so you’d feel him that much deeper … the way he could feast on you for hours, never getting enough of your taste … there was something about it that made you feel more than beautiful.

Especially when he looked at you as if you were his world.

Especially when he fucked into you and you realized you might be in love with him.

You tended to get lost in thought while laying in bed on an early morning. The birds chirped outside, your phone chimed along with each new notification. Curling underneath your comforter, you held your pounding head, reminiscing on last Sunday. You had gone over Wonwoo’s apartment and he had surprised you with a spaghetti dinner. Mingyu promised that it was “more edible than usual” before he left you two alone in the apartment.

You had noticed the shine in Wonwoo’s eyes, how excited he was to do this for you. He had never bothered to learn anything for anyone, but all he wanted to do was please you. To make you happy. And you could see that in the way he gazed at you, making your stomach do flip flops. Letting him have all this control over you, letting him see past the fortress you’d kept up for who knows how long … it was scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

He taught you how to play his favorite video game after dinner, placing you in between his legs on the couch and letting you lean back against his broad chest. His arms cocooned around you, nestling your body in his embrace. Sometimes he would nibble on your ear as you fought to maintain hand-eye coordination with the controller. Eventually, you had given up and asked to watch him, but that led to his hand dropping the controller as the enemy killed him off. And then his fingers were slowly slipping down the waistband of your leggings, rubbing your slit over your panties. You had arched into him, your ass pressing against his hardening erection as he pulled your panties to the side, already finding you wet and ready for his touch. He chuckled in your ear, “How long have you been thinking about this?” His index finger rubbed tight circles on your clit, and all that you could formulate for a response was a moan as he –

You cut yourself off from the memory before it could end you.

Your stomach churned. Despite your better judgement, you had completely fallen head-over-heels for senior IT specialist, Jeon Wonwoo, and that was terrifying. He had seen your personality unfold, seen the most vulnerable parts of you. But nothing was more scary than admitting to yourself how much you liked him, maybe even loved. You were frantic to the point of exhaustion, so stressed that you felt sick. Soon you were shivering, your head pounding as a fever came on, and you stayed home from work for a few days. Your phone notifications be damned – you stayed in your bedroom with the blinds closed, sleeping the days away.

Every so often, you would hear your phone chime. Your phone screen would light up with another text message. But … you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. This behavior was illogical and stupid; you just simply couldn’t help yourself. You were an avoidant. The only thing you knew how to do was slowly push him away before he saw all the layers underneath your carefully crafted facade.

What if he finally saw how anxious you were all the time?

What if he knew how you secretly craved to be loved your entire life, but you looked for it elsewhere, in places like workplace praise or crowded bars where you couldn’t see another person’s face?

What if he knew you weren’t as organized up in your head as you were at your desk?

Or worse … what if he didn’t like you back?

TUESDAY, APRIL 22

Wonwoo: What’s going on?

Wonwoo: I managed to find out that you’re sick. I can make you soup, if you want? I know my cooking is terrible. But what if this time it’s good and it cures you?

Wonwoo: If I threaten to message you on Slack, will that make you reply?

Wonwoo: I promise I won’t. Unless … lol

Wonwoo: You’re not dead, right?

Wonwoo: Please, answer me.

FRIDAY, APRIL 25

UNKNOWN: hey, it’s Mingyu. I found your number in Wonwoo’s phone. he’s really messed up right now and worrying about you.

UNKNOWN: idk what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like seeing him like this.

UNKNOWN: just … call him. or text him. or something.

Jeon Wonwoo [10:13 AM]: Did your computer die and you need a new charger?

Jeon Wonwoo [3:21 PM]: I miss you.

When you finally returned to work, it’s on a day that your cubicle mate had decided to work from home. You couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or curse until the next day, when you wished that he decided to work from home forever. It was on a Tuesday morning that you finally faced him again, locking eyes with him from across the boardroom table in an all-hands meeting. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure what you could say, but … he didn’t speak to you any way. In fact, even when you both got back to your desks, he kept quiet, throwing on his headphones and focusing on whatever task was at hand. His attitude change wasn’t exactly surprising, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him either.

All your other coworkers looked bewildered. The silence between you two made just about everyone feel awkward. They all saw how close you and Wonwoo had become, and now everything just felt … flat. Silent. Empty. It was like you two were strangers. Maybe you had never really known each other in the first place, if you could both discard each other so easily.

But that just seemed too good to be true. You thought about him everyday, despite yourself, and he had to think of you too. You caught his eyes on you every once in a while, and you couldn’t help but yearn for him in silence. It was probably time for you to take charge again and make the first move, but you found yourself hesitating. Again. You were overwhelmed with thoughts of rejection.

This was why you never gave up control with someone before. It left you suddenly so, so doubtful.

You [1:34 PM]: I can’t get into my Outlook. I think I’ve locked myself out

Jeon Wonwoo is now offline.

You [1:36 PM]: I miss you too

It was a busy Sunday, the first notes of Spring evident in the air. You needed to go to the post office today, the supermarket, probably check in on your parents … but that was all discarded when you made the sudden decision to take a taxi to Wonwoo’s apartment. Your hands were shaking more than his when he first touched you. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety, and when the taxi finally pulled up to his building, you considered never getting out.

But you couldn’t continue being a coward. Besides, this driver had places to be, with the way he was arguing for you to pay in cash.

You were lucky enough to slide in through the building’s entrance while someone was walking out. The less you had to embarrass yourself by calling Mingyu to let you in, the better. The walk up those two flights of stairs was long and tiring, and it wasn’t because you always hated them. You physically couldn’t make yourself go faster, too frightened of what he was going to say when he saw you. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything; maybe he’d slam the door in your face. And you couldn’t blame him, because now you were at his door and – oh, god, you wanted to hurl.

The door was opening before you could even catch your breath. When you caught that first glimpse of Mingyu, you realized how much of a mistake this was. You could always turn back, run down the stairs before anyone could say a word.

But as soon as you both locked eyes, Mingyu raised his brow, but not in a mocking sense. It was as if … he expected you to be here. He sighed, leaning against the door, and without looking back, he called out, “Wonwoo! You got a visitor.”

Your eyes went wide, and then Mingyu was pushing past you, leaving the door open and muttering, “Good luck.” He was rushing down the stairs two at a time before you could even say a word back. But then you were seeing him, and you wondered if it had always been this hard to breathe around him.

Your fingers played absentmindedly as you both stared at each other. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he made no move to fix them. His own hand was too busy dropping the controller that had been in his grip, now clattering to the floor. His hair was messed up and he was wearing his favorite comfy sweatsuit, and you … you were put together, as always. Your hair unwashed, but pulled up in a ponytail, and wearing that cardigan he liked so much on you. If he wasn’t so hurt, just the sight of you would have him on his knees right now, begging to have you.

He had to turn around and walk away. If he didn’t right now, he’d just –

“Wait,” you said, walking in and closing the door when he spun away. “Please, don’t. I –”

“What could you possibly say?” He snapped, facing you once again. You had never heard his voice at this octave before, never seen so much distress on his face. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you wouldn’t cut me off out of nowhere. As if I’m just some guy you met at a bar last weekend.”

Your mouth opened, and then closed.

“Do you … do you even understand how worried I was about you?” He ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking for the first time in forever. You took a step closer to him. “You weren’t answering me and I just … my head went to the worst. I thought Mingyu was gonna kill me the next time I mentioned your name. And then, to see you at work and realizing that you were actually just ghosting me was a fucking punch to the gut. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it. But I’m so pissed at you for hurting my feelings that I’m not even sure if I wanna know.”

“Wonwoo –” You started.

“Please, don’t say my name like that,” he sighed and pinched his nose. “I realize that you came all this way to finally break the news to me, but I’m good. It’s very obvious to me now that you don’t like me as much as I like you, and to save us the pity party, let me get you home –” He reached for his wallet to grab some cash for your next taxi.

But you interrupted before he could finish.

“I love you.”

He paused, looking up and making sure he heard you right. “What?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said it again, and it felt so freeing to have this weight lifted off your shoulders. You moved closer, now standing a foot away, but refusing to touch him for your own good. “And I’m not just telling you that as an excuse. Ignoring you was cruel and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. I just … when I realized how deep my feelings for you were …” Your throat closed up, as if your body was acting on instinct, preventing you from being vulnerable with him.

Wonwoo closed the distance. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I’m right here with you.”

His voice was so reassuring – as always – opening you up like a blooming flower. And suddenly, your mouth didn’t feel so dry anymore and your nails stopped making crescent-shaped indents in your palm.

“I got scared,” you confessed, your gaze locked on his. “And I ran away, because that was the easiest thing to do. I thought ignoring you would be best for both of us, and I stubbornly didn’t want to hear your opinion on any of this. What I did was wrong and I … I hate myself when I do stuff like this to people I care about.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but he wiped them with his thumb before they could fall. You sniffled, noticing the hurt in his eyes had faded, replaced only by adoration. Your lips pursed as you searched his gaze.

“I’ve just … never allowed anyone to open me up like this. I’ve never given my feelings to someone and let them care for me.” You blinked, your eyes rimmed red. “I’ve hardly been able to comprehend my own feelings because I’ve been scared shitless of them in the first place. But I can’t … I can’t justify pushing you away anymore. Because I love you. I don’t like being alone anymore and all I ever want to do is see you. Sometimes I’m afraid if I stop holding you, you’ll disappear. You do so much for me; you literally fix something on my computer everyday. I think if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and I –”

Wonwoo cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he kissed you like this: so gently with his palm cupping your jaw. You felt yourself relax when he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue licked into your mouth, sighing with relief when the familiar taste of you entered his orbit again. The taste of coffee and peppermint gum and the peanut butter and jelly you definitely had for lunch today. It was everything he loved about you, and he smiled into the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I interrupted your monologue.”

“It’s okay. Someone needed to before I got into the Hamlet soliloquy I prepared.”

He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, and just that had a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I forgive you,” he whispered, leaning back in to ghost his lips all over your face. Your warm breath fanned his mouth. “Just don’t do that again. I know I don’t show it very often, but I’m secretly very …” He smiled softer this time, pecking just slightly on the corner of your mouth. “Sensitive.”

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting him all the more closer. “I know. I promise.” You brushed your nose over his. “If I ever ignore you for even a couple hours, you have full permission to annoy me on Slack.”

Wonwoo had to cover his mouth from letting out the loudest laugh possible, but it made you feel all the better to see him happy. You could spend forever seeing him this happy. You got up on your tiptoes just to stare at him more, to press yourself closer and feel his grin against your cheek.

But he was holding your face now, sighing down at you with a smile that almost made you swoon. “For the record,” he replied, “I love you too.”

5K notes · View notes

hoeforhao · 8 days ago

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TAKE MY HAND (Aahista) 🍀 •Wonwoo Fic•

✿ pairing : design intern!wonwoo × senior!reader

✿ genre : fluff, quite a lot of angst, humour, smut in later parts, slice of life, yearning, drama

✿ warnings : mentions of a past toxic relationship, abuse, violence, depression. so minors dni!!

✿ part : teaser

✿ author's note : i am back from the dead, FINALLY! But no like literally. Life has gone down the pipes for real and the only person who somehow makes me still look at men and smile is wonwoo. So what's a better way to comeback other than a jww fic! Hope y'all will like it.

Life has always been a narrow dark road laid down with glass blocks, for you, where you became sure with age that even if you somehow manage to bend your way through one of the blocks without cutting yourself around the sharp edges, you are definitely going to fall head first into the next one, and add one more white wrap to your almost bandage covered body.

There was never any shortage in the amount of people who told you " Oh y/n why don't you try again, more carefully and precisely this time. No one's life is as smooth as it seems. You're just overstressing everything." It's not like their words did not cut through you specially after knowing that you've tried time and again to give life another chance. To make it glow like the first rays of the sun hitting on the blank white canvas of the first snow in December or to welcome in love like the carols of christmas. But you knew well how the last time you tried that, you were left to paint the whites of the mountains, bleed dark red. How it was the reason even in the burning summers of the city you just could not ditch your turtlenecks and jeans, how because of your last relationship, now when your manager hands you your daily work schedule, you flinch everytime as he raises his hand to place the files in yours. So love and men are the two things that have taken a longtime vacation from your life to some remote islands in the south pacific. Until........

"Y/n we've a new joinee in the designing and editing department, and since Ellie is on her maternity leave, you've to be the one to show him around and guide him for the next one month. You remember right?" an agonising voice makes your 'absolutely deserved after working on an article all sleepless for the last 28 hours' nap shatter into dust just like your dreams of one day having tiramisu caramel coffee pods in the cafeteria instead of those straight up americano ones which probably taste way bitter than toxins. You don't even bother to move your head up from the cushions of your arms that you've folded so nicely on the table, as you knew that it was no other than Marissa standing beside you with her obnoxiously thick yet lustrous blonde hair. I mean who else in the office had the voice of a 8 year old kid with a morning cuckoo stuck in their throat.

"Yes Marissa I remember quite and well." you finally bring your head up from the table, rubbing your eyes like a raccoon rubbing their hands before eating, seeming as if you want to rub an year's worth of sleep from those overstrained balls, and look back at her. " I mean it's just training an intern and giving him an office tour. How hard can it be even. Kids are easy to handle these days. "

And you spoke too soon. Only if you knew that the man who was about to enter your cabin in the next five minutes and in your life within the next thirty days, or as you called him 'a kid' , is going to be the one to push you off the edge, again. But this time it was going to be the edge between darkness and the light of soft love. Will you let him in and let the gleaming rays seep through the window panes again or will you run away into the abyss.

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gyuswhore · 21 days ago

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Honeymoon Avenue

Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader | @highvern birth special

word count: 8.7k

contains: newlyweds!reader and wonwoo, minor injuries, lots of fluff, multiple smut scenes (MINORS DNI), they're sick and in love its gross

synopsis: You and Wonwoo have said your I dos in front of the entire world, and now it's time to uphold them when it's just you and him.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY MY GUIDING STAR MY WIFE AND PARTNER IN CRIME CAMOTHY @highvern I love you so much this fic is purely to torture you and only you and no one else. you asked for honeymoon wonu and you are receiving honeymoon wonu. I hope you enjoy it ily ily ily

thank you so much to @starlightkyeom for betaing and listening to me yap about this, I love u to the moon and back, and thank you to @shadowkoo for all the help on the banner, ly raven <333

ps: heads up that is isn't very plot heavy I tried something new this time and attempted to let it flow as it came out. hope it holds up!! if you aren't cam then u must pay taxes in A) going to her blog and wishing her a happy birthday, and B) tell me ur thots about the fic in da reblogs heh!!! :3

masterlist

You let out the deepest exhale of your life.

Haphazardly strewn chairs, and you find the nearest one and plop yourself and your skewed reception dress on the padding. Your numb feet don’t have a chance to thank you immediately, but the tingly feeling means they aren’t entirely a lost cause.

Slouching as far as your shoulders would go, you pan the nearly empty venue, one that now looks like you accidentally slipped a tornado an invitation. Your eyes land on where Wonwoo is saying goodbye to the last few guests who definitely did not pay heed to your request for temperance at the bar. The uncle grips his bicep like a vice, blubbering congratulations you could hear all the way where you sat.

Wonwoo’s suit jacket and waistcoat are gone with the wind, hair tousled and spiking every which way—near inverse of the gelled, waxed and styled they sat earlier in the day; the first time you laid eyes on him standing at the altar with the sun in his eyes. The crisp of his shirt is now wrinkled from the dancing and the hugging and every other excessive movement he had to subject himself to today. The final stragglers are your family, your sister already moving over to push you out of your chair.

“I just sat down!” you whine, not caring for decorum with the absolute day you’ve had.

“Go on with him, you have a flight to catch!” she stresses. “We’ll handle everything here.”

Wonwoo catches the last bit as he returns, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Blatantly, you stare. “Handle what?”

“You guys should go ahead first,” she says.

“We have some time till we need to start rushing,” he responds, twisting his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. The lights are back on, so you can see him significantly clearer without the disco lights and low spotlights. His forearm is practically in your face, and if you weren’t so exhausted you would’ve taken a dive at the divot, teeth first.

But you don’t, because what stares you both in the face right now is a month long getaway of blue sky, green waters and lots and lots and lots of completely alone time. Since your sister is already so keen to get rid of you both, Wonwoo decides for you as he excuses himself to grab his strewn clothes.

She turns to you in his absence, and you immediately know there’s a grenade smoking behind her goading grin. “Well…?”

Brows raised, you’re defiant in your decision to remain nonchalant. “Well what?”

“Are you excited?”

“Of course I am, I just got married.”

“I mean the honeymoon.”

“Who isn’t dying to go Seychelles?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

You shoot her an equally infuriating smile, “You can’t be mean to me today.”

“I already have,” she responds.

You don’t have a chance to be annoyed because Wonwoo is back, clothes draped over his arm as you are suddenly ushered into saying your last goodbyes. Flats on and heels in hand, ready to peacefully stroll out of the building you got married in.

You hook your arm around his as you cross the threshold out, the wind pleasant in the pitch black night. Walking to the car, the one you bought together, you feel like the threat of your dangerously full heart might finally erupt.

All day has been a rushing incline of adrenaline, from the moment you woke up, sticky eyed with bridesmaids over your head, to getting into your dress, to standing behind the giant oak doors that led you to the altar of your future. To the moment you heard the love of your life say I do for everyone who mattered to hear.

It’s late, and your flats crunch under gravel, pressuring every sore point in your foot. But you don’t care. One of Wonwoo’s arms is draped by his coat, and the other by you, a pressing silence falling over your pair. At peace.

“I’m glad we didn’t have a grand exit,” Wonwoo speaks your thoughts.

“Mhm,” you reply. “I like this better.” You look up at him as he halts his steps for a minute, and he leans down to kiss you for the nth time that night. All smiles.

The finality of an Exit felt like a staggering halt to your special day. You already knew you’d never want it to end, opting to let the night trickle out, ending it with just you left on the floor.

Something told you this would be more memorable anyway.

Everything’s packed and ready when you get home, a service to present you from past you. You turn to Wonwoo, who’s toeing his shoes off, who also was a horrendous sport when it came to packing early.

“Aren’t you glad we did this beforehand?” you taunt, waving your hands at the packed bags near the door. He only smirks, leaning in to grab your face and kiss you again.

“Of course, wife’s always right,” he mumbles against your lips, and the giddy feeling that’s been simmering all day gushes once again.

Wife.

“Welcome to the rest of your life.”

The dim bathroom light seeps into the bedroom, where you scratch your skin with makeup wipes to get the first layer off your tired face. It’s easy to slouch, wanting nothing more than to lay back against the pillows and fall asleep, fully dressed. You’re aware of all the outside germs you’re transferring onto your pristine sheets, but also cannot find the strength to care.

The water shuts off, and you take it as your cue to slug off the bed and take off your dress. Reaching over, your fingers grapple for the hook with no avail, arms already showing the first inklings of a very sore weekend. The zipper isn’t even within your vicinity, fingers aiming for nothing but skin and fabric.

You smell Wonwoo before you can register he’s out of the shower, the humidity carrying the scent of his body wash to where you stood on the other side of the room. It takes no time for you to feel both his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him before you can open your mouth to ask.

Cold fingers brush the skin above the hook of your dress, and it takes an effort to not melt into the carpet entirely. The dress is unhooked, the zipper pulled down as you feel the fabric release you into the bedroom air. He helps you push it over your hips, letting it pool onto the floor.

The sigh you release lingers in the air, prompting him to put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing your shoulders, thumbs digging into the back of your neck to release all the pent up tension. Then your upper arms, where he pulls you even closer, bare back hitting his damp chest.

“Tired?” he mumbles, arms circling around you and squeezing you tight.

Leaning back is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, only humming in response as you close your eyes, head against his shoulder. Droplets hit your skin in a cold cascade, his hair still wet. His hands roam around any expanse of skin he can find without releasing his pressure on your form, squeezing and massaging. The weight is welcomed, nearly falling asleep by the time he’s mouthing at your shoulder, breathing in the sweat of your skin.

“Are you gonna need help in the shower?” he asks. You know he’s not being cheeky, and you consider saying yes seeing as you’re five seconds from falling asleep standing up.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you mumble. “I’ll keep the door open in case I crack my skull on the tile.”

“Can’t have you dying on our wedding night,” he says.

“Enjoy the life insurance payout,” you crack one eye open, staring up at him.

“How many hours have we been married?” he muses.

You want to kiss him, suddenly slammed with a tsunami’s force of affection for the man that holds your leaning body against him like an ever-present pillar. Married.

He lets you go, but not before helping you pick out every last bobby pin in your hair, during which he remains in nothing but the damp towel around his waist. At one point you face him, forehead on his chest as he unravels your hair from the crown.

“Your towel’s inside, I’ll grab your clothes,” he says when he releases you, letting you walk into the bathroom to wash off the day.

Simply raising your arms to shampoo your hair is turning out to be a conquest despite the fumes of the scorching water invading your vision. The door is half open, and you can hear Wonwoo shuffling about in the bedroom, no doubt fixing the last bits before you have to leave for the airport.

Immediately, you sigh, the thought of loading and unloading the uber, going through security, checking your bags and then the god-knows-how-many hours of flight time settling in your bones like an additional phantom ache. By the time you’re done, towel wrapped around your chest and droplets of water still cooling your skin after a half hearted attempt at drying yourself, you’re spent.

Wonwoo is zipping up a bag when you emerge, unfortunately wearing clothes now.

“You wanna sit in the towel while I dry your hair,” he asks, already pulling out the hair dryer from the drawer.

“Are you done packing?” you ask, frowning.

“Just your toothbrush left.” He plugs it into the outlet. “I’ll grab it while you change.”

Forehead leaning on his tummy, he tousles the wet mop of your hair as the dryer fills the room with its white noise. That, paired with the bed where you sit, once again, is turning out to be a seductor of a lifetime.

When he’s done, and brushing out the tangles in your hair, you find the strength to ask him. “Why aren’t you as tired as I am?”

He chuckles, eyes focused on a knot that’s giving him a hard time. “For starters I slept for five extra hours. You know, considering my side of the party didn’t need to cake their faces.”

“You didn’t like my makeup?” you jab in jest.

“I loved it,” he responds, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “We’ll talk about it on the plane, considering you don’t fall asleep before we can even take off.”

“Or in the car. Or in the lounge.” You yawn openly. “Or right now.”

When you stand up, you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to touch him for a little bit before attempting to put on clothes. His lips find the crook of your neck immediately, hands gripping you through your towel.

“I love you,” you mumble against his skin.

“I love you more,” he responds. “I know I already said it a thousand times, but this is still the happiest I’ve ever been.”

You have to bite back a snarky reply, but you feel the pool in your eyes anyway. Inexplicably, you hold on to him tighter. Worried if you opened your mouth you’d begin to sob—again.

He does let go of you, but only when his eyes land on the time. You’re dressed by the time he’s called the Uber and grabbed your toothbrush, shoving it into the front pocket of one of the bags. You’re quite useless the entire time, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind as he loads your limited bags into the trunk.

You manage to keep your eyes open on the ride to the airport, manage to not be a nuisance as you check in, and make it to the lounge with limited hassle.

“We only need to wait like twenty minutes, we were pretty on time,” he mentions, handing you a to-go cup of coffee the approximate size of your face. “We get to board first anyway.”

Months ago, while you were thick in the trenches of wedding planning, you went back and forth for a very long time about flight tickets. Not your destination, but the decision between business and economy was a conversation that stretched over weeks.

Today, with your jelly arms and mushy mind, you thank your heavenly stars through bites of fancy lounge sushi for making the collective decision to splurge. Wonwoo is taking it upon himself to let your friends and family know you’d checked in, while you lean wholly against his arm, dreaming about the flat, comforter clad surface of your plane seat, and the joy you’re going to have for the hours to come.

Inhaling the amount of coffee that you did in the lounge meant the prior sleep in your eyes had decided to evacuate for the time being, getting tucked into your seat soon after take off.

To be clear, you were more than happy with your decision on the seat, but you realise quickly that you and Wonwoo are blocked out by a divider between you, closing you off. You assume you were pouting at the realization, because you hear him ask.

“Don’t like the seat?”

“No, I do,” you say. “But you’re so far away.”

He smiles, close mouthed, the one where it looks like he might be smirking. An arm snakes over the console, elbow towards you as his forearm rests against it. Immediately, like this was nothing but a usual drive in your car, you lean your head against his arm, your own two arms wrapping around his.

There’s nothing in the air except the whirring of the plane's engine, the quiet chatter of the cabin as the crew prepares for turndown service.

A realisation befalls you, that this is the first time you’ve been able to sit down with Wonwoo today, without the constant buzzing in your brain about everything that has gone wrong and what could go wrong. It might be your defeated conscious talking, but it may have even been months.

Shifting your head so you can look up at him, you speak, “We have to stay married. ‘Cause I don’t think I can plan an entire wedding again.”

“So no vow renewals?”

You raise your brows, surprised this was something he’d be interested in. “Maybe when we’re sixty.”

“Oh,” he frowns. “I was thinking more like every five years.”

“God.”

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” he says.

“The seats?” you ask.

He looks at you, and you raise your head from his arm.

“Getting married.”

“That sounds like an afterthought.”

“I was nervy,” he says. “It’s like coming out the other side of a roller coaster. Took guts but you’re glad you did it.”

“Glad our special day was a vomit inducing experience for you.”

“Didn’t you cry five times while getting ready?” he jabs.

Scowling, you turn away. “Who told you that?”

“So you can throttle them in their sleep?”

It was no use, since you were both crying at the altar, but you have a bone to pick with your sister once you’re back home.

“Go to sleep,” you grumble, removing yourself from his arm. He only laughs, grabbing your arm with a force that pulls you back in.

He leans into your ear, familiar press of his lips against the skin. “You looked beautiful today.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Similar to this, with his lips pressed against your ear, hours ago on the dancefloor, he said the same thing. Over and over and over.

“I’m gonna confess something,” he whispers. For a wild moment, your heart is in your throat.

“What?” you ask sharply.

“When I went home after our first date—”

“You noted my drink order?”

He nods against your head, “That. And I dreamt of you.”

“Was I pretty?”

“Prettiest. Big smile like it was the happiest day of your life. In a white dress.”

It’s silent for a moment as neither of you move. The lump in your throat is ever present, breath quickening as you brace for the waterworks.

“Dang,” is all you say in a watery voice, one that earns you a laugh from him. The absurdity is not lost on you. “What other secrets do you possess?”

“Just that,” he responds. “Didn’t wanna tell you before. Thought you’d freak out and run away.”

“Idiot,” you mumble against his hoodie, tears wetting your lashes.

You don’t get to continue, because a flight attendant hovers over your joint seats, asking if you’d like to turn down for the night.

Wonwoo answers for both you and your aching bones. Fatigue would make you gloss over many things about the aftermath of your wedding night for years to come, but you’ll always remember the first night asleep next to your husband over rocky terrain in the sky, with so much changed, yet nothing at all.

Your first night in Seychelles was a blur, mostly because you both ate room service in expensive robes and watched The Pitt before falling asleep again.

Eyes closed, you know it’s sunny with the exceeding warmth in the room and the light against your eyelids. Opening them takes a minute, no desire to move in the morning light. At least you think it’s morning.

Shifting around, you realise you fell asleep in your robe, the tie unravelled, turning it into a loose shrug over your naked form. Through bleary eyes, your eyes meet the linen curtains and how they blow in the wind that pours through the open sliding doors. Blue skies and hanging branches of deep green trees are all you see, and your husband, standing over the railing overlooking your private pool.

Maybe it was the haze of being half asleep, but for a second it feels like a dream. He’s in a white T-shirt, messy hair indicating he didn’t wake too long before you did, basking in the sunlit glow of the morning. His back is to you, but it’s enough.

He hardly notices you get up and walk to the bathroom, the rustling of the trees masking most of your movements. When you’re done washing up, robe tightened around your waist, you emerge onto the makeshift porch of your hotel suite.

Arms immediately make their way around his waist, alerting him of your presence. “Morning,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Morning, baby,” he shifts so he can hold you too, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Sleep well.”

“As well as I could.” It was a frivolous question, considering he was well aware you could sleep well on pavement if he was next to you, presence inches away.

“It’s so pretty in the day,” you comment. The private pool was one thing, but the way the trees and plants hovered over the open area, swaying in the breeze left the impression they’d situated the room in the middle of a jungle.

“Mhm,” he responds, having had his fill of the view of the hotel, currently more interested in the bare expanse of your neck. His lips trail over the skin, leaving kisses and gentle nips, now caging you between him and the railing. “Pretty.”

Of course, the obvious connotations of a honeymoon hadn’t escaped you—in the weeks leading up to your wedding, there wasn’t a loved one who would let you. But it feels like a delayed reaction after the hectic 48 hours you’ve had, finally at peace in what feels like the most beautiful place in the world.

You let him grope you over the fabric, let his mouth run over every sliver of skin he can find. Facing him, your hands find the back of his neck to pull him down towards you, mouth to mouth properly.

You melt, sighing into his mouth as he moves impossibly closer, pressing you against the railing as your head moves further back. Mouthing at your jaw, he lets you push him back in through the open door.

He understands when you’re being pushed right back into your unmade bed. Pulling at the mountain of comforters, he lets them drop to the floor. “God it’s been torture,” he groans, hands moving up your thighs, through the irregular folds of your robe, cool palms against your hot skin.

“You wanted to leave right after the reception,” you tease. The robe remains tied, and you make no move to undo it yourself.

“Didn’t realise I’d have to hold back for this long,” he says, hands reaching the knot. His mouth is back on yours as he undoes it, pulling agonizingly slow.

Tucking his hands into the undone robe, he runs them over your naked body underneath, pulling the fabric away from your body. Migrating down your neck, his hot breath mixes with the wind coming through the outside, casting shivers down your spine.

Mouth over your breast, his teeth graze over your skin as he sucks. His free hand gropes your other breast, fingers pinching and flicking over the erect nipple. Head thrown back, you can’t stop the way your hips gyrate on nothing, moving to feel friction of any sort.

He only lets go when your hands grapple at his shirt, noises of frustration for every passing moment you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Shirt thrown somewhere behind him, his shorts follow, before ripping the robe off you entirely, leaving you completely bare.

Moving higher up against the bed, Wonwoo situates himself like he’s about to live there, hands pushing your thighs apart as wide as they could go. In the morning light, he stares his fill of the glistening swells of your core. Fingers grazing over the back of your thighs, he massages the skin closer and closer to where you need him most.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, moving back up to kiss you one more time, deep and long.

Distracted, his thumb pressing a stripe down your clit catches you by surprise, gasping into his mouth at the feeling. His thumb reaches your hole, catching the wetness at the entrance, dipping shallowly. Travelling back up, he presses into the centre of your clit beginning with tight circles around the area.

Whining into his mouth, your hands travel to his shoulder, down his arms to grip the muscle. Your other hand grips the sheet as he presses harder into your clit, localising his torture to one tiny area, occasionally rubbing all over.

“Wonwoo,” you moan into his mouth, hardly kissing anymore as you pant into his mouth.

Two fingers push into your hole, the pads pushing up against your walls as his knuckles graze over them. He begins to pump in and out, scissoring his fingers to open you wider. The feeling has you throwing your head back, breathless.

When he removes his fingers you nearly scream, but his hand is at the waistband of his boxers, just as desperate as you feel. The tent is obvious even as he pulls the fabric down, watching his painfully erect member slap against his stomach. Your hands wrap around his own that lay at the base, caressing past to pump him as he positions himself between you.

It’s hypnotising, the redness of his tip, the way it leaks onto your fingers after just a few strokes. Wonwoo’s face is pained, and you realise he may have been serious about feeling tortured.

Not that you were any less desperate, but the agony of needing to remain celibate for the weeks leading up to your wedding weren’t planned—you could hardly find time to eat and sleep. It flew over you, that it might've been a little tougher on him than it was on you, but when you pull him in closer, you make sure that changes.

Knees bent, he pushes your thighs apart as he settles in. He sinks in slowly, “Oh this is gonna be quick.”

You don’t mind, because you’ve remained untouched long enough to not last very long either. “Right there with you,” you groan out, engulfed by the stretch.

He’s slack jawed, hair falling over his eyes as he struggles to keep his eyes open. His fingers dig into the plump your thighs, gripping them like they were the only things keeping him tied down to earth.

It’s bliss, even as he remains stationary for a moment, buried into you till the hilt. Slowly, he pulls out, rocking back in. He picks up the pace, folding your legs over as he watches the way he disappears into your wet pussy, milky white beginning to rim at the base of his cock, a mix of your slick wetness and his precum. He nearly cums at the sight.

Your fingers play with your stiff nipples, head thrown back as you moan without a care of your volume or coherence, Wonwoo’s name on your lips like a mantra. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it in circles as you whine loudly at the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he moans, hips snapping up to slap against the back of your thighs. “So good, you’re so good.”

Eyes blown open as he slams a hard one into you, his groaning and moaning ensuing another warm gush out of you.

Wonwoo pauses for a moment, ducking closer to lay his forehead on yours, his spread legs keeping yours apart, hands coming up to cup the top of your head to protect you from the hard headboard.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear with effort. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” half sobbing.

“You’re amazing,” he blabs, words hardly coherent. “All mine. Mine forever. All of you.”

His words, paired with the hand that grazes over your tits, down to your swollen clit to rub it harsher than before, is enough to send you careening over the edge.

“Won—oh my god, Wonwoo I’m cumming,” you moan so loud you’re sure it’s carrying over. But you don’t care, because you wonder how you went so long without clenching around his dick like this, gushing over him as he pounded into you like it was his last day on earth.

He holds you steady as he rides you through it, the contracting of your walls pushing him into his own orgasm, shuddering in your hold as his thrusts become increasingly sloppy yet running with force.

It’s euphoric, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls, leaving his traces where no one else could ever touch you. The thought sends him into overdrive, thrusting into you long past his release dripping out of you, pooling onto the pristine sheets, glazed over your gorgeous skin.

Resting his head against your collarbone, he breathes in the salt of your sweat, mixed with the scent he calls home.

It feels like an eternity, both of you silent as the wind blows into the room over your sweaty forms, laying there in each other’s arms. Wonwoo continues to keep his mouth on you, your shoulders, tummy, waist, worshipping every last inch of your being as you catch your breath intertwined in his heat. He’s at your knees where your legs fold, hand wrapped around your ankle as he caresses it with his thumb, leaving kisses above your knee.

For a moment, he rests his head against your thigh, and the world becomes clearer. His silhouette against the light, the nature beyond your crystal windows. The weight of him now, the traces of his touch that persist, to lay here bare for your lover for life—a glimpse into the rest of time.

The moment is ruined when you feel your stomach growl, and Wonwoo is close enough to hear the rumble. He shifts so he can look at you, “Shower time? I think I saw a restaurant downstairs.”

The shower went from quick to an extra thirty minutes, considering you’d hardly washed the shampoo off before he pushes you against the tiled wall to kiss you breathless, water going cold over you as he works you with his fingers again, the thudding of water hitting the shower floor paired with the squelching of his fingers dipping in and out of your already spent hole, and the pants and moans that fill your ears.

He needs to help you into your clothes after that, which he chuckles through before pulling you to the hotel restaurant. Housing down everything in sight, Wonwoo remembers to keep your glass full in an attempt to keep you from choking on croissants of all things.

“Do you wanna hit the beach after this?” you ask.

“I was thinking about a nap before that,” he says, belting out a burp that earns him a kick under the table. It shakes, earning you looks from the rest of the vacationers. He only laughs, “But I could nap on the beach.”

Wonwoo does not, in fact, nap on the beach and instead follows your example as you pack a book in your beach bag, realising very quickly he brought none of his own, choosing to snipe one of the many you brought for yourself.

It’s you needing to turn your brain on this time, because the random book he’s grabbed has him so enraptured at the synopsis you have to pull him away from slamming directly into people and poles alike. There’s posters and notices as you walk through the connection that leads to the beach; cocktail classes, trivia nights, and tutorials on Seychellois cuisine.

“Isn’t this that movie you watched on the plane?” he asks, reading the Crazy Rich Asians on the front cover.

“Mhm, didn’t mean to pack that, I’m reading the sequel right now,” you hum as you look for the path that leads to the beach, hand in his.

It’s a gamble as the view of the white sands and water come into view, visibly smiling as you see the near empty sands. It was the off season, which you expected to mean less of a crowd.

Finding a double beach chair is easy, dumping your things as you make yourself comfortable. “Water’s nice.” Wonwoo comments, and you wonder if you did wrong with keeping your bathing suit away for today.

Squeezing a generous amount of sunscreen onto your hands, you agree with him as you dot his face with sunblock. He lets you rub it in as he looks over the water, perfectly aware that he’d never willingly put sunscreen on his face if it were up to him. He’s done, and he settles in while you protect yourself.

Leaning against Wonwoo’s arm, you’ve both grabbed your books under the giant parasol. The sun is out and warm just right, deep sounds of crashing waves, and the smell of salt—-you feel giddy.

The beachside bar is seconds away from bringing you your cocktails when his hand finds your thigh, tracing his fingers over the skin, while his other holds open the book he’s reading, twisting the cover back like a heathen.

It’s perfect.

“These are good,” Wonwoo pauses to comment, brows furrowing at the flavour of your espresso martini and his cosmopolitan.

“I think I saw something about a cocktail class at the hotel. We could try it later.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, sipping his drink again.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but both your glasses are now empty and Wonwoo seems to be growing distracted after a few hours. It’s still late afternoon upon you as he announces he’s going to dip his feet in the water.

You think about it, and walk to the shallow end behind him, leaving your flip flops near the chairs. The sand is plush beneath your feet, cool between your toes despite the warm afternoon. Walking closer, the water is almost blinding with the way the sun dances on its crystal surface, waves breaking and sending pleasant sprays as you walk closer.

You gasp audibly as the water touches you, turning to look at Wonwoo wide eyed and giddy. Colder than you’d expected, washing over your ankles and shins as you walk further into the water, pulling up the hems of your skirt to keep it from getting wet.

Wonwoo leans down to touch the water, fingers dipping into the clear, coming up to splash you with a handful. It earns him a yelp from you as he laughs, but you soon recover and send another one right back. You don’t panic till you see both of his hands cup enough water to practically drown you.

“Wonwoo, I didn’t bring extra clothes!” you yell, already running away.

The irony doesn’t escape you, considering sprinting through the water has wet your clothes more than his splashes. But you're laughing harder than your breath can catch, and even more so when his wet hands grab you by the torso and pull you back in a lurch, suspended in the air for a moment.

“Wonwoo!”

It’s funny for a few minutes, still encased in a fit of giggles as you kick at the water. Until it isn’t.

Wonwoo separates from you for a moment, venturing a little deeper into the water, swearing he saw a ring of colourful fish swim past the shallow end. You’re in the middle of convincing yourself to follow him when you hear him suddenly splash at the water with shocking force.

Stunned, you hardly register what’s just happened, thinking you’ve just heard him yell. He’s out of the water before you, hunched over and grabbing at his calf. By the time you reach him, you can see it.

An ugly red slash across his calf, long and thin. It looks like a chemical burn.

“What—”

“Shit,” he curses. An anomaly, considering you’ve only heard Wonwoo curse about five times in the years you’ve known him.

“What is that?” you ask, immediately on your knees to get a closer look. It’s growing redder by the second, the swelling clear.

Wonwoo stretches over to try to see, “That might’ve been a jellyfish.”

“You weren’t even in that deep!”

“Deep enough I guess,” he winces.

Bringing him to the shallow end, you try to pour more seawater on his reddened skin, hoping your memory is serving you right and you aren’t just making it worse.

A few minutes later, a life guard is applying a topical cream on the area and giving you instructions to let the wound soak in warm water, assuring him he can get back in the pool in a couple days.

Once the shock wears off, it’s almost a little funny. “That’s a story we’re gonna be telling forever,” you mumble as he gets up from the table in the tiny lifeguard tent.

The man turns to you, “It happens sometimes, people usually just sleep on it and have a great rest of their vacation. Don’t worry about it too much.”

You thank him as you mutually decide to call it a day, moving back towards the hotel. Wonwoo seems alright, walking fine as he holds your hand talking about dinner plans. You suggest room service by the pool so he can keep off his leg, but insists he wants to try the traditional spot just outside the hotel.

Heeding, you let him pull you back into the hotel room to clean up and rest. Except this time he’s serious about the nap.

Wonwoo doesn’t fight you when you suggest staying off the beach today, choosing to occupy yourselves with the cocktail class instead.

It’s in the hotel so you don’t have to leave the premises, the venue moderately full when you enter the room. The instructor introduces himself as Marcus, taking the time to make small talk with you both as you wait for everyone else to file in. His face lights up when Wonwoo tells him this was your honeymoon, very outwardly enthusiastic about having a couple in the class.

So much so, that when the class eventually does begin, you hear a loud call for congratulations from the room for the only newlyweds (you). Mortified a little, you both fluster in your thank yous, attempting to move the attention back to the front where Marcus remains jovial as ever.

“I think that’s too much ice,” you comment, attempting to compare the pile in your glass to Marcus’ up front.

“No, it’s one scoop. It’s what he said,” Wonwoo says, but he’s beginning to look a little lost.

“Doesn’t that look like a lot?” you ask, not convinced. But there isn’t much you can do about it, because you’re suddenly being asked to find one of the syrups on the counter, still rummaging while Marcus is already two steps ahead of you.

It’s hard not to giggle, the energy from your station overwrought. But as you finally make your first drink after 20 whole minutes, you stand with straight shoulders.

It’s another two hours of this, spilling precious spirits on the counter, floor and yourself, hands stained with syrups and fingers numb from picking up the giant spill of ice courtesy of your husband. You have to duck under the table for a moment, knowing your chortles would disrupt the class even more than you’ve done unintentionally already.

Making cocktails meant drinking cocktails as you made even more cocktails. Marcus only seems to encourage the class to get day drunk, but that only resulted in added chaos.

But even when you’re back in your hotel room, tipsy and giggly, you’re glad you did it.

Wonwoo is spread eagle on the bed, still laughing about tripping over air in the hotel lobby. You join him, tucking yourself into his arm. Head lolling over to look at you, he dips his head down to kiss you, lips over your own in a close mouth peck. He doesn’t stop, lingering with every press to your mouth, still slightly smiling against your lips.

“It’s been a day and this is already the best trip of my life,” he mutters against your lips. You’re very aware of it this time, a habit he’s had forever.

You flashback for a moment, and suddenly you’re both a lot younger, alot less wise with constantly flushed cheeks in each other’s presence. It’s at the door of your old apartment, the same one where he would take you in more ways than one in the following months and years.

But for now, it was your third date, and you were shifting your weight between your feet, trying not to feel disappointed as he bid you a goodnight with nothing but a smile and a wave. Mustering a smile of your own, you unlock the door and begin to walk in.

Except instead of descending steps, there’s a pause. And Wonwoo was back before you could even cross the threshold. He didn’t ask when he cupped your face and planted one on you, mouth to mouth for the very first time, one hand over your door handle and the other on his wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” he mumbled against your mouth, the first time of many, sheepish smile on his face.

But your heart felt like it was about to burst, so you went in for another one, opening your mouth to kiss him properly. And then the door had shut behind you both, and you’d dragged him inside.

Tipsy haze and a little love drunk in your hotel room, on your honeymoon, you laugh against his mouth. “What,” he asks, laughing with you over nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t chicken out that night. After the drive in.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need any more information, because the events of the day were ingrained into his mind like a brand. Not your first date, but your third, where he almost didn’t kiss you, where he almost never took the steps back up the stairs, where you almost slammed the door in his face.

“I don’t think I would’ve wanted a fourth if you didn’t do it,” you say, eyes locked in on him.

The thought scares him, that tiny mistake that never happened, how it would have altered the trajectory of his life. It’s terrifying, dread settling into his stomach. To this day he’s unsure why he’d hesitated as much as he did, especially considering he dreamt of your wedding the first night after he’d laid eyes on you.

“You looked sad,” he says. “Disappointed. Just, not happy. I thought that meant you didn’t enjoy yourself, but…I was on the staircase when I realised I felt sad too.”

He leans into you, lips planting kisses on the apples of your cheeks, to your fluttering eyelids, “Didn’t think much after that. Glad I didn’t, because I probably would have chickened out in the end.”

“We’re married,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “Can you believe that?”

“I can’t. Sometimes I still wake up and think I dreamt you up.”

“Are you calling me unreal?”

“Because you are,” he says. “I’m not sure how you exist.”

That sticky feeling engulfs you again, and you know it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you’ve been teary enough to last you a lifetime just these past few days. Before you turn into a blubbering mess, you push yourself up.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go ahead and be unreal and not exist in the pool we are yet to use.”

He stares as you get up, walking to your open suitcase to rummage around for your stack of bathing suits. He remains on the bed, head propped up with his arm as he watches, content.

You don’t bother with going to the bathroom, stripping off your shirt and shorts in the room. You fish out a green piece, only to hear a refute.

“Where’s the yellow?” he asks, and you fish around to come out with the butter yellow two piece you didn’t realise he even knew you had.

“Actually,” he slips off the bed, walking over to open the sliding doors that lead to the outside, glancing around. “Do you really need it?”

You only give him a look, proceeding to go to the bathroom to change out of your underwear anyway. He makes a noise of disapproval, but you respond with the loud sound of the door locking shut.

When you emerge Wonwoo has soothed himself by taking a dip into the pool himself. You have to laugh, watching him paddle through the water with his swim goggles on.

“Does it hurt? The sting?” you call out as you sit by the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water to start yourself off.

He breaks the surface, hair flat over his head like a bowl. He spits out a mouthful of water before calling out, “No! I put the topical on this morning, I think it’s working.”

If that were you, you’d probably be out of commission for the rest of the holiday, but as he dives back in to check how long he can hold his breath for, you want to applaud him. You jump in after a few minutes, finally getting yourself wet.

Wonwoo comes over to you, letting you wrap your legs around him as you float as one. You do, however, rip the goggles right off his face. He doesn’t refute, letting them sink to the bottom of the pool.

“Don’t you think I’m so strong?” he asks.

“I’d say the water’s doing most of the work,” you note.

“I meant my fatal injury.”

“Hardly fatal if you’re making jokes about it,” you snort. “Do you feel like a man?”

“Yeah.” He’s smiling a dumb smile, and you know he can hardly see a thing without his glasses. “Are you impressed?”

“So impressed,” you sigh, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.

You let him go for a little bit, wanting to float by yourself for a while. As the sky breaks through branches of low hanging trees and giant green flats of leaves, you realise your not-soberness is probably contributing to how psychedelic the view looks.

But you aren’t complaining, content with the weightless feeling.

Wonwoo can’t help himself from meddling for too long, because suddenly you're being lifted off the surface just to be dunked under the water, flailing for a moment before breaking the surface.

“Wonwoo!” you screech, but he’s already on the opposite end of the pool, laughing maniacally. You’re rethinking your stance on drunk Wonwoo, because you aren’t liking him too much.

He’s unfortunately a faster swimmer, but you have him cornered in the pool. He makes to go below, escaping your wrath of you and your dripping wet hair, but instead you hear him yell.

Through the water, you watch him grab his calf, face contorted like he banged the sting wound on the wall of the pool. Immediately, you move forward to check on him.

“Does it hurt?” you ask sharply, mind already racing to where the topical was inside the room.

But you should’ve known, because as soon as you’re close enough for him to grab, you’re being snatched off guard and caged between him and the pool wall.

You want to stay mad at him, but it’s difficult when you note how his shoulders are blocking the entire sun from view, casting you in a shadow shaped like your husband.

“What was that for?”

He only shrugs, hands roaming the expanse of your skin in the water. “I missed you.”

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to break free. He blocks you, whining as he buries his face into your neck. “I said I missed you.”

Another thing about drunk Wonwoo—his sex drive shoots for the clouds.

Even now as he’s mouthing the side of your neck, you can feel him through his swim trunks, pressing you against the pool wall, water spilling over the edge. His input on your choice of swimwear should’ve been your sign, but as he fiddles with the straps of your bottoms, you decide to resign into him.

Water is Wonwoo’s biggest enemy as he finds out how difficult it is to create friction like this, the tent in his bottoms pressing against your stomach. You decide you’re going to be nice, palming him through his trunks. Your other hand is around his middle, roaming to his front as you let them wander over his skin.

He groans contently into your neck, coming up to take your mouth. His tongue pushes in, and you let him lick and suck on your tongue, pulling away only to go right back in. It seems your hands aren’t enough, because he’s suddenly gripping you by the sides and pulling you out of the water, finding yourself sitting by the poolside.

There’s water everywhere as you get a headstart, but he’s enthusiastic even while tipsy, lifting you off the ground at the steps. To your surprise, he doesn’t head for the bedroom, and instead places you on one of the beach chairs on the porch.

“Wonwoo,” you begin, slightly scandalised.

“It’s just us,” he says, nipping at the shell of your ear.

It was sheltered enough, canopied but exposed enough to have you giggling through it. Wonwoo is an efficient man, not a second wasted as he rids you of your bottoms, his own swimming trunks coming off, landing somewhere on the floor with a wet thwack.

He’s sinking into you within seconds, hovering over you as he mouths your cleavage spilling out of your bikini top, licking and dragging his tongue over your skin. You move to take it off, but he stops you.

“No,” he says sharply, pinning your hands in front of you. “Stays on.”

So maybe you underestimated how much he liked it, but you can’t bother to think about it when he picks up his pace, slamming into you so hard the chair rattles and shakes beneath you. Your wrists remained tied with his hand, reaching out as far as you can to touch his stomach, needing to feel him somehow.

The noises you're making are only fueling him, hand coming up to squeeze your breast through the wet fabric, slipping his fingers underneath to play with your nipple, erect from the cold. His knees are in place steadfast on either side of the beach chair, and you have to ask.

“Isn’t that–humph–burning?” you ask through pants.

“Don’t,” he thrusts up hard, “care.”

Taking a moment, you look up at him, and he’s enamoured with the sight of your wet body in front of him, but all you can see is how he manages to encase you with his body alone, the flop his hair over his beautiful eyes, How pretty he looks in the partial shade. How in love he looks with you.

His thrusts are getting sloppier, and you’re moaning so loud it’s beginning to hurt your throat. “Wonwoo, I think—”

“Me too, me too, me too,” he babbles as he feels the familiar clamp of your walls around him, the mesmerizing arch of your back, the way you rip your hands from his hold, only to seize his arms to ground yourself as you ride out your high. He doesn’t fail to abuse your clit, fingers pressing and rubbing just hard enough to send you to a place so far away from here.

“Oh…Wonwoo, fuck, that’s so–so good.” It sounds like a sob, and maybe you are crying a little bit.

He follows you on your descent, hips harried and face contorted like he’s forgotten how to hold himself back. He cums inside you, and you can’t help moaning at the feeling.

He’s hardly brought himself down to Earth when you’re being yanked towards the side of the beach chair, legs over the edge. There’s a loud groan from the chair as it's yanked to the side so Wonwoo can sit on the floor in front of you.

Legs thrown over his shoulder, he watches as the white of his cum leaks out of your raw hole, the sight nearly giving him another erection before he can even dry off. His mouth meets your cunt, lapping at the mix of his cum and your release off your thighs, your hole, spilled over your clit.

You’re overstimulated, but you only prop yourself on your forearms to watch him suck on your clit like he was starved, tongue flat on the muscle as he rubs against your folds. His finger pushes through your entrance, the sound downright sinful as he pumps his cum in and out of your hole. The second orgasm hits you like a truck, shaking like you’d lost yourself on the chair as you finish hard. Seeing stars in daylight, painting the blue sky.

When Wonwoo emerges, eyes dazed and a slight smirk on his face, he’s panting, leaning against your thighs. He places one last open mouthed kiss against your thigh before dealing with your jellied form, slumping against the chair as you attempt to relearn how to breathe.

“You–” you pant. “We need to get drunk more often.”

He only grins at your suggestion to turn into alcoholics for the sake of mind blowing sex.

“I love you,” he says as he scoops you up into his arms, and you want to ask what ounce of superhuman strength he even had left to pull you into a sitting position, seeing as your own muscles are of no help whatsoever.

Your legs are swung across his thighs as you sit on his lap till you can recover. His mouth is covered in your bodily fluids, but you’re reminded what love feels like when you let him kiss you all over regardless.

“I love you too,” you say. “And I’ll keep loving you if you keep eating me out like that.”

“What happened to unconditional love?” he laughs.

You push back the wet mop of his hair, letting his face come into full view.

“Still unconditional,” you respond. “Always unconditional.”

He leans in to kiss you, and you immediately taste the salt on his tongue, but all you want is to move deeper.

“Unconditional,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you're immediately smiling.

He pulls away for a moment, staring at you for a moment. “I think you’ve recovered.”

“Hm?” you question.

You know the answer when you’re suddenly being yanked by the hand back inside. “Wonwoo,” you scream as he gives you no room to prepare, pulling you indoors while the sliding door slams shut behind you.

Yeah. You like how forever is turning out.

2K notes · View notes

emocheol · 1 year ago

Text

seventeen when you call them by their name

instead of a pet name

a/n: i forgot how long writing 13 different scenarios takes T-T

seungcheol

after a long day of practice cheol entered your shared apartment late at night.

even though he was trying to be quiet you still heard the click of the front door and his fumbling around in the entryway. so you decided to get up and greet him.

“seungcheol?” you asked sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you walked out of your bedroom.

he was so taken aback by his name that he didn't even reply for a good 30 seconds.

“i'm sorry for being home late,” he frowned, “don't be mad.” he whined softly, thinking you were upset with him. why else would you use his full name?

you looked at him quizzically and slotted yourself in his arms, he seemed to relax significantly at your touch.

“i'm not mad, what makes you think that?” you questioned, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“you called me seungcheol,” he pouted, “what happened to baby?” his pout intensified, his lip jutting out further.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, “i’m sorry, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the pet name, “i didn't know you liked it that much,” you cooed, putting your hands on his cheeks and smushing his face.

“don't tease me,” he grumbled, pretending to be upset, which just elicited another laugh from your end.

“fine, fine,” you said with your hands raised, mocking a surrender, “let's go to bed, baby, you've had a long day,” you suggested, pecking his lips and taking his hand to lead him to the bedroom.

jeonghan

you had been basking in jeonghan's company all day. it was a rare off-day for the idol and you spent every second possible with your boyfriend.

you were currently in one of your lulls of conversation, just sitting in comfortable silence on two different ends the couch while you both scrolled on your phones.

you saw a funny video while scrolling and knew your boyfriend would love it so you looked over at him and called his name.

“hey, jeonghan? look at this video,” you giggled, holding your phone screen in his direction.

but your boyfriend didn't pay you any mind. thinking he didn't hear you, you called for him a little louder.

“jeonghan? hello?” you scooted closer to him on the couch when you went unanswered again.

you poked his cheek and turned his head to make him look at you when he still didn’t answer.

“hello?” you questioned, noticing his nonchalant expression.

“oh? were you talking to me?”he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“yes? i said your name twice!” you whined, knowing he heard you but he was clearly ignoring you.

“no, you said ‘jeonghan,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers, "and that's not my name," he pouted finally, showing a side of him that you didn't often see.

you realized what he was talking about and tried to hide a grin at his demeanor, “aww, i'm sorry, let me try again,” you cooed, going back to your previous side of the couch to reset.

“hannie... my angel, my sweetheart, my precious?” you tried, “come look at this video,” you laughed, his attention already on you as you listed your names for him.

“of course, my love,” he smiled, getting up from his spot and cuddling up to your side, “look at how easy that was,” he whispered, plucking your phone from your hands and watching the video that you had pulled up.

he pulled you into his arms and nuzzled his cheek against your head, scrolling and looking at more videos with you. “you're crazy,” you said with a laugh, pressing a kiss against his cheek, but you wouldn't want it any other way.

joshua

“joshua?” you called out from the kitchen while you were making dinner. he had been playing video games in the living room ever since his practice was over.

hearing his full name from you made his ears perk up and he quickly shut off his game, rushing to the kitchen.

“love?” he asked softly, putting his hand on your shoulder, already thinking he had upset you he didn't want to anger you further. “is everything okay?” he asked tentatively, testing the waters.

“huh? yeah, joshua, everything's fine can you just-”you said as you stirred the pot on the stove, not looking up at him while you were focused on perfecting the food.

but, when he heard his full name again and the classic 'everything's fine' line he quickly jumped to conclusions and deduced that everything was not fine.

he cut you off before you could finish talking and immediately went into apologizing.

“i’m sorry, love, i don't know what i did to make you upset but i'll fix it, okay?” he said with a weary smile, still with his hand on your shoulder, “was i on the game for too long? did you want me to help you cook? was i too loud?” he rambled, facepalming as he thought he had messed something up and made you mad.

as he rambled you slowly started to look over at him, his words confusing you to no end.

“why would i be upset?” you asked, looking at him as if he was crazy, which he was.

“what?” he questioned back, “you called me joshua and you haven't looked at me and you said everything was ‘fine’, that's like textbook upset partner.” he said, as if it was totally obvious.

you blinked at him a few times before you burst out laughing, “god, babe, you're hilarious!” you exclaimed, slapping his shoulder as you laughed. now it was joshua's turn to be confused since he was positive that you were upset.

“you’re not upset?” he questioned, you shook your head as your answer while you were still doubled over laughing, “why did you call me over then?” he asked.

you pointed to the glass jar on the counter next to you after you had composed yourself, “i was going to ask you to open that jar, dummy,” you teased.

joshua blew out a breath and quickly opened the jar with ease, “that's... it?” he questioned.

“yeah, that's it, you can go play your game some more,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“but you called me joshua...” he grumbled, you never called him joshua!

“which is your name, if i’m not mistaken,” you pointed out, pinching his cheek. he swatted at your hand and groaned.

he opened his mouth to start complaining more before you quickly stopped him. “okay, okay, i’m sorry babe, you can go play your game again.”

joshua gave you a firm nod, as if he was finally satisfied with your name for him. “okay. let me know if you need anything.” he grinned, kissing your head and then strolling back to the living room.

“you’re a child,” you whispered to yourself, continuing dinner with a smile on your face.

“but you love me!” he called back, somehow hearing you. well, he’s not wrong.

jun

‘thanks, junhui!’

that was the text that you had sent your boyfriend after he told you he bought you a book from the town he was currently in on tour.

he loved gift giving and he knew you loved books so he scoured every bookshop in the town to find the perfect book for you. he excitedly sent you a picture of the book he bought and that was your reply to it.

it made his head spin with reasons of why you could be mad at him.

calling him ‘jun’ was already a rarity in your relationship, but ‘junhui’? he wasn’t sure you’d ever called him that.

‘are you mad at me?’ he texted back, getting straight to the point.

you took nearly 10 minutes to reply, 10 agonizing minutes for jun.

‘not at all, i’ll see you when you get home’ was your response.

now this reply made him absolutely spiral, good thing he was returning home today. but because of your replies to him he made a few extra stops before hopping on the plane.

when you finally arrived back home from work you opened the door and was met with your sheepish looking boyfriend and what looked like a mountain of books behind him.

“babe! what are you doing here? and what is with all the books?” you exclaimed, jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

jun was taken aback by your reaction, his mind stuck on the thought that you were mad at him. “i thought you were upset with the book i got you… so i kind of bought as many as i could fit in my luggage to make up for it,” he said, his cheeks slowly turning red when he realized you really weren’t mad at him.

you pulled your head back and gave him a look, “what made you think i was mad?” you asked, pulling away and starting to pick up the different books that were piling up on your coffee table.

“you called me junhui…” he whispered, saying it out loud made him feel stupid, it was just a name, his name in fact.

“are you saying that you bought me a hundred books because i called you by your first name?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

he nodded his head sheepishly.

“you are too cute!” you exclaimed, giving him another tight hug, “for the record, i’d tell you if i was mad at you,” you made sure to clarify.

“okay…” he said softly, looking at the absurd amount of books, “should i return all of these now, or-” he began to speak before you cut him off.

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, snatching a book and sitting on the couch beginning to read.

jun slowly made his way next to you and laid his head in your lap, getting comfy while you read aloud to him.

hoshi

“honey?” you called out in your apartment, waiting for hoshi to reply to you. you needed help folding the laundry and hoshi was always eager to help you do whatever you needed.

you heard a distant, “give me a minute!” come from your shared bedroom where your boyfriend was no doubt playing video games again.

you rolled your eyes at his response and started folding the laundry on your own, giving him a few minutes before calling for him again. “honey? i need your help out here,” you called again, waiting to hear his footsteps.

but instead you got another, “just a sec!” which made you pull out the big guns. hoshi hated you calling him by his name, he said he sounded like you were scolding him. but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“kwon soonyoung! i said i need your help!” you called out even louder than before, knowing that would get him.

once his name left your mouth you heard fumbling coming from the room and the door opening quickly, his feet slapped against the floor as he ran over to you.

he already had the expression of a kicked puppy, “i told you not to call me that!” he pouted, standing in front of you.

you gave him a look and pointed at the spot on the couch next to you, “sit,” you said simply. of course, he followed with no question.

“‘m sorry!” he whined when you wouldn’t talk to him, “i was doing really well! you know how hard that game is, and we were winning!” he tried to explain, sloppily folding clothes next to you as he rambled.

“soonyoung?” you said, cutting him off with his name again.

“what,” he said with a frown.

“just fold the damn laundry,” you said with a sigh, grabbing the clothes that he had folded and redoing it properly.

“you’re scary when you’re mad…” he whispered, starting to fold every item of clothing meticulously so you didn’t have anything to be upset with.

he spent the rest of the day giving you his undivided attention and trying to make up for making you upset.

when you finally called him ‘honey’ at the end of the night his face lit up and you forgot why you were even mad with him in the first place.

wonwoo

you were out shopping with wonwoo when something caught your eye from the window of a store. you tugged on your boyfriends coat sleeve.

“wonwoo-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“try again.” he said simply, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“wonwoo?” you questioned, tugging his arm again and making him stop walking.

“try again.” he repeated, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending to scroll on it.

“wonwoo, what are you-” he cut you off once again with a look.

“one more time, sweetheart,” he said, pointing you in the right direction. this made it click in your head and you just scoffed.

“babe?” you tried, finally his attention turned towards you and he showed off his award winning smile.

“yes, sweetheart? what do you need?” he asked, his voice sweet as honey.

“you're impossible,” you laughed, “i want to go into that store,” you pointed at the clothing store next to where you were stopped.

“then let's go,” he grinned, pulling your hand and leading you into the store, “you know if you call me by my name people might not think we're together,” he said as if it was an obvious fact.

“we're literally holding hands and wearing matching outfits,” you pointed out, which just earned a shrug from your boyfriend as he started grabbing different pieces of clothing that he thought would look good on you.

sure, he was a subtle guy, but he wanted everyone to know that you were his.

woozi

“jihoon, i'm home,” you called out into the apartment. you had a meeting that lasted much longer than usual and it was already dark out when you returned.

your boyfriend had been home all day and by the smell of fresh food you could tell that he had been cooking.

you slipped off your shoes in the entry way and tossed your bag on the couch before slipping into the kitchen and coming up behind your boyfriend. you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder while he stirred the pot in front of him.

“jihoon?” he questioned, scrunching up his face at the mention of his full name. he didn't hate when you said his name, you just never did. “what're you calling me that for?” he asked directly, not assuming anything.

“i realized i don't call you by name, do you not like it?”you asked, lifting your head up and looking over at him, your arms still around him.

“i don't mind, i'm just used to baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “or babe,” another kiss, “love, sweetheart, honey, my one and only,” he listed, pressing a kiss to your face in between each pet name.

you couldn't help but smile at the affection you were receiving from your boyfriend, you pressed a few kisses to his cheek in return and let him resume his cooking while you watched from a seat at the island.

“but you're okay with jihoon?” you asked, wanting to make sure.

“i’m okay with you calling me jihoon,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at you, “but don't use it too much.” he said, giving you a pointed look.

he wouldn't say it out loud but he loved the sweet pet names you gave him, even the ridiculous ones.

minghao

“what did i do?” was the first words your boyfriend uttered when he walked into your shared home.

you looked up from your spot on the couch and tilted your head at him. “what do you mean?” you questioned, not understanding him.

“i mean, i can tell you're mad so i give you permission to yell at me, just tell me what i did first.” minghao said, bracing himself for whatever you would say to him. by no means did you fight often but whenever you got angry at him he would take it.

“i’m not mad at you,” you said, opening your arms, waiting for your boyfriend to join you on the couch. when he didn't come over you deadpanned, “well now i'm mad that you're not cuddling me.” you joked, waiting for him to come over.

he slowly walked over to you and pulled you against his chest, giving you a cautious look.

“then what was up with that text?” he questioned, pulling out his phone, “you said, and i quote, just wait until you get home, minghao,” he recited, “when have you ever called me by my first name?” he said like it was obvious.

“oh! i made your favorite dessert!” you said with a happy smile, pointing to the kitchen where his treat was freshly made and waiting on the counter.

his face went soft at your happy mood and he gave you a short kiss, “thanks, love,“ he said softly, “but your text did not make it sound like that.” he chuckled.

“oh right, i didn't want to give anything away so i called you minghao, was that too mean?” you asked, hoping you didn't make him worry.

he sighed with a smile and shook his head, “just a bit,” he said honestly, “you never call me minghao,” he pouted, half jokingly but also half seriously.

“i’m sorry, love,” you said, kissing his cheek, “i won't scare you like that again,” you teased, jumping up from the couch and pulling him up with you.

“come eat! i made it all for you,” you said with a smile, leading him to the kitchen and plating his dessert with a smile.

mingyu

mingyu had a cold. and when mingyu got sick he got dramatic. he was currently cuddled up in bed while you took care of him.

you would take his temperature, give him medicine, cook him some soup, and keep him as comfortable as possible while you worked from home.

“mingyu, do you want some soup?” you asked softly, pushing his hair off of his forehead and feeling for a temperature.

his eyes shot open and his lip jutted out. “mingyu?” he questioned softly, “why are you calling me mingyu?” his voice wobbled a bit. but can you blame him? he’s a sensitive man.

“because that’s your name, baby, you don’t like it?” you asked, holding his hand, your voice softened at your boyfriend.

he shook his head at your question, he was always ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘gyu’.

“sorry, baby,” you cooed, “but do you want any soup?” you asked again, hoping it would fix his mood.

“don’t want soup, i want a kiss,” he said with a little mischievous smile, then puckering his lips.

you rolled your eyes, he knew you couldn’t say no to him, especially since he was sick and was on the verge of tears after you called him his first name. “you’re such a baby,” you groaned, “if i get sick it’s your fault,” you reminded him.

“then it’ll be my turn to take care of you,” he said as if it was obvious, leaning up a bit and catching your lips with his.

sure, mingyu was a big baby. but he was your big baby.

dk had been stuck in practice all day while you had a free day. so, being the loving and doting partner that you were you decided to make your boyfriend some dinner. which also included making dinner for his 12 bandmates, but you didn’t mind. you were like a big family.

you were let into the building and made your way to their practice room, hands full of bags carrying multiple different containers full of food.

the boys were all sitting around the room during a break and you popped your head inside, leaving the bags in the hallway.

a few people looked over at you when you opened the door, but every head snapped your way when you opened your mouth.

“seokmin?” you asked, which caused some murmurs among the group.

dk couldn’t remember the last time he was called that name.

‘you better fix whatever you did wrong’ ‘why is she mad at you?’ ‘what did you do?’ different members began to ask all at once to your boyfriend, sending him into even deeper of a panic.

he jumped to his feet and made his way over to you. you didn’t look mad at him, but now he was worried. he grabbed your hand and gently pulled you into the hallway and closed the door to the practice room behind you.

“is everything okay? did i leave something on at home? did i forget to take out the trash?” he asked seriously, thinking of what he could’ve possibly done to elicit you calling him his first name.

you gave him a look in response, furrowing your eyebrows at his rambling. “no… i made you guys food,” you explained, pointing to all the bags on the floor by the two of you, “was just asking you to help me bring it in.”

“huh?” your boyfriend questioned, looking at the bags and then back up to you. “why’d you call me seokmin, then? i haven’t heard that name in ages!” he whined, tugging at your hand.

“oh? i texted jeonghan and told him i was coming over, he told me to call you seokmin,” you laughed, not thinking that he was going to take it that much to heart.

dk sighed and grabbed the bags, pecking your cheek, “thank you for dinner,” he said softly, opening the door to go back into the practice room with you trailing behind him.

his members all looked over and started laughing, apparently they were in on it too.

“you guys suck!” he groaned, “i’m keeping all this food to myself now,” he said childishly, hoarding all the bags by the two of you and trying to keep everyone else away.

eventually he caved and you all ate together, everyone thanking you and still poking fun at your boyfriend.

seungkwan

“seungkwan,” you tried to get your boyfriends attention, standing across the kitchen island from him.

his eyes left his phone and found yours, narrowing in the process. he didn’t say anything so you frowned.

“seungkwan?” he continued to stare at you and you grew slightly agitated since he was seemingly ignoring you.

“can you reply?” you asked with an attitude, crossing your arms.

“i’m just waiting for you to get it right,” he said, mirroring your body language and the amount of sass.

his words only confused you more. “get what right? you’re crazy,” you mumbled, basically having a staring contest with him.

seungkwan just scoffed and rolled his eyes, “my name! i’m waiting for you to get my name right,” he said as if it was obvious. “i am not ‘seungkwan’ to you.” he explained, putting his name in quotations with his fingers.

“are you waiting for me to call you sweetie?” you asked finally, a smile slowly starting to spread on your face. your boyfriend may be a little sassy but he was truly a sweetheart.

“maybe,” he replied simply, his arms still crossed as he waited.

you hummed at his response and then made your way around the island to hug him. “alright, sweetie, i was just going to ask where you wanted to eat tonight,” you grinned, pressing a few sweet kisses on his cheek.

his attitude instantly melted away at the pet name and he pulled you closer to him, “wherever you want, angel,” he replied simply.

it was that easy.

vernon

vernon isn't phased by much. but he does get a little salty when you use his first name on him. he says it sounds too much like a mother scolding him. so, of course, you tease him with it sometimes.

“hansol! can you come to the living room?” you called out in your home, not sure which room he was in.

soon you heard his footsteps and he walked into the room with a scrunched up face.

“yes, darling?” he exaggerated his pet name for you, hoping you'd get the hint.

you spun around in a circle and posed, showing off your new outfit to your boyfriend.

“what do you think? you like my new outfit?” you asked with a blinding smile, posing in a few different ways as your boyfriend watched.

“i think it looks lovely, babe,” he exaggerated again.

“thank you, hansol,” you replied with a sweet smile.

“you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he tried again.

“thank you, hansol,” you repeated, trying to keep your laugh at bay.

“positively perfect, my love.”

“i appreciate it, hansol.”

“absolutely stunning, angel.”

“you’re too kind, hansol.”

“that’s it, i’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.” he finally said after surveying you for a few minutes. he turned on his heel and walked back to your shared bedroom.

“no!” you called after him, “i’m just joking,” you said in between laughs as you walked fast behind him to catch up.

he shrugged his shoulders and sat back down at his desk, continuing his previous task before you had called him to the living room.

“don’t be sulky now, i was teasing,” you pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders and turning his chair to face you.

“it’s fine, y/n,” he said with a grin, now using your own name back as revenge.

“hey! you can’t call me that!” you whined in response.

“watch me.” he smirked, flicking your forehead gently.

oh how the tables have turned.

dino

this man rarely hears his name from anyone. it’s always ‘dino’ from his friends and ‘honey’ from you.

so when you started calling for ‘chan’ while you were asleep it made his heart break.

‘who is chan?’ he thought to himself, you couldn’t be cheating on him with another guy. right? you wouldn’t do that, he knows you.

but still, once the thought got placed into his head (by no one but himself) he couldn’t help but shake it.

the next morning he was nervous, he didn’t know how to confront you, or what he would do if his suspicions were correct. so while you were making breakfast for the two of you he mustered up the courage to go into the kitchen and talk to you.

“good morning, honey,” you said with a cheery smile, noticing him right away as he made his way next to you. you caught his lips with a quick peck but noticed that he seemed a little tense. “something wrong?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

dino just wrung his hands together and frowned. “do you have something to tell me?” he asked softly, already feeling on the verge of tears as he looked down at his feet, not making eye contact with you.

“no? what’s this about?” you asked, turning the heat down on the stove so you could give him more of your attention.

“i just,” he started, “well um…” he tried again, “i heard you talking in your sleep and you were calling out for some guy named ‘chan’ and i know wouldn’t cheat on me or anything but who is chan?” his words spilled out of him and he was talking a mile a minute while you looked at him, your eyes widening.

he was bracing himself for the answer to his question, ready for the worst.

“honey…” you said gently, taking both of his hands in yours and making him look at you, “you are chan.” you explained, trying to hide your smile since he was clearly so distraught.

“huh?” he asked, not understanding what you were getting at.

“honey, your name is lee chan,” you reminded him.

you could see the gears shifting in his head before his cheeks immediately heated up. he snatched his hands from yours and slapped his face. he was chan. and he couldn’t feel any stupider.

he was so used to being honey that he forgot his literal name.

“forget this happened…” he mumbled, walking away as you stifled your laughs.

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vernonverse · 4 days ago

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📲 Raising Us | wonwoo x f!reader | (5) the fourth year | 002

Paring: wonwoo x f!reader. Genre | tags: smau, series, non idol!au, best friends (idiots) to lovers, unexpected pregnancy, slow burn, angst, pinning, fluff, humor/comedy. Warnings: Wonwoo is quite insecure here, mentions of poop, swearing, suggestive, a lot of denial and pinning.

Summary: On the night of your eighteenth birthday, you and Wonwoo made a pact to lose your virginities together. Ten years later you're co-parenting your unexpected child while figuring out where you stand with each other.

A/N: Don't hate me... and please make sure you read the foot notes !

Status: on-going.

―📝 Series masterlist.

― Taglist

⫶ FN: Joshua is not the bad guy of Wonwoo's story. Every story has two sides 👀

--- # NAVIGATION | MAIN MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAGLIST ---

Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog—helps so much and gets the fic out there!! Sharing is caring before you scroll!

💌 SERIES TAGLIST: @eisaspresso, @christinewithluv, @armycarat2612, @ziidino, @vernons-wifey12, @jihoonsbbygirl, @wonvsmile, @smiileflower, @lukeys-giggle, @my-atiny-kookie-rkive, @toplinehyunjin, @skz-elle, @ateez-atiny380, @aeerio, @paranoid-borderline-insane, @chariseiswriting, @blxcknwhite-lady, @maryseesthings, @max-1404, @minhui896, @jembem, @blaycke, @livelaughloveseventeen, @butterfliesliving, @callmehoweveruwatblog, @junnhuisworld.

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booskwannie · 13 days ago

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"Knees."

who? jeon wonwoo x you. what? wonwoo doesn't tell anyone his birthday, even when introducing himself. so when he tells you its his birthday, you're shocked and guilty that you didn't know and you apologize that you didn't get him anything. but he doesn't care, because you're with him, playing with his hair. and that's enough of a birthday present for him. wc? 1k (1,105) a/n: this is inspired by wonwoo's cover of IU's "Knees", and this is for our birthday boy, happy belated bday won. (shoutout to my banner maker againn, love you sm.)

the sun was starting to fall by the time you both left school.

it had been a long day. the kind that drags, not because it’s difficult, but because you can feel how tired everyone is. maybe it was the weather, too warm for autumn, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the classrooms stuffy. or maybe it was just thursday. nothing special. just too close to the weekend to focus, too far from rest to breathe easy.

wonwoo had looked exhausted the moment he walked in that morning. his hair was still damp when he sat down beside you in homeroom, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands and glasses slipping down his nose.

“did you even sleep?” you asked, nudging his elbow with yours.

he gave you a look, half amused, half dead-eyed, and muttered, “barely. i was finishing the history notes.”

“wonwoo,” you sighed, “you did that for me.”

“yeah, i know.” he yawned behind his hand. “you better treat me to something later.”

“i’ll buy you banana milk,” you said, and he cracked a small, sleepy smile.

you hadn’t realized just how drained he was until lunch, when he didn’t even argue with soonyoung over rice crackers. or how he leaned his head against the wall during math, blinking slowly, like he was trying to keep himself from drifting off.

by the end of the day, his steps were quieter than usual. not tired in a dramatic way. just… quiet. heavy.

“want me to like.. drop you off at your house?” you asked as you both exited the school gate, the streets growing cooler in the evening breeze.

he hesitated. “even though that's gentlemanly of you... no thanks.” he said softly, tugging at your sleeve. “let’s just go to the park.”

you didn’t ask why. you just nodded and followed.

the park near the school was quiet at this hour. there were no children, no joggers, just the sound of wind moving through the trees and the occasional chirp of a bird settling down for the night. the grass was still warm under the soft orange of the setting sun.

you dropped your bag beside the bench and wandered toward the slope near the trees, a quiet little hill where you two often sat after exams or long days.

wonwoo lay down in the grass without a word, arms crossed behind his head, eyes barely open.

you sat beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“you okay?” you asked gently.

he hummed.

“tired?”

another hum. this one softer.

after a beat, he shifted, resting his head on your knees without asking.

you blinked. but didn’t stop him. just looked down at the boy you knew so well, the one who always carried too much in silence. his eyes were closed now. his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. you could see the faintest crease between his brows, even in sleep.

without thinking, your fingers reached for his hair. soft. a little messy from the wind.

you brushed it back gently, letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. he exhaled, a little deeper than before. like he’d been holding his breath all day.

it felt intimate. more than anything you’d ever done before. but it didn’t feel wrong. it felt like a place you’d been trying to return to. like a song you almost forgot.

his voice came quietly, barely above a whisper. “can i stay like this?”

you didn’t answer with words. you just kept brushing his hair, slow and steady.

“it’s my birthday,” he murmured after a long moment.

your hands paused. “won, what?”

he didn’t open his eyes. “today. didn’t tell anyone.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed. “won, why didn’t you say anything?”

he shrugged. “i don't think i'm worth celebrating.”

your heart ached. for reasons you couldn’t fully explain.

“you're worth everything...” you whispered, to yourself. you're not sure if he heard it or not. then you whisper again, a bit louder, loud enough for him to hear. "you should've told me... i would've gotten you something. or things."

he finally looked up at you, eyes half-lidded and soft. “you’re here,” he said simply with a smile. “that’s enough.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. it was peaceful. full of the things you didn’t need to say. you looked up at the sky that was fading into indigo, with streaks of peach still holding on.

then you looked back down at him. the way his eyes had finally closed again. the way his body relaxed, shoulders no longer tense. “you can sleep,” you said softly. “i’ll stay.”

he didn’t reply. just turned his head slightly, nose brushing the fabric of your pants, a barely-there smile playing at his lips.

you kept playing with his hair, more carefully now.

he looked younger like this. not the boy who always got top scores and lent people notes. not the quiet one who barely spoke in crowds but always cared after you. even when when you're getting frustrated over a level you can't beat in a game. (when you sulk he takes the phone and beats it for you.)

just a boy. just a wonwoo. tired. gentle. letting himself rest.

“happy birthday won... i love you.” you mutter.

he didn’t move since he was already asleep. (he wasn't.)

you smiled to yourself. a little sad. a little full.

the breeze was cooler now, rustling the leaves above you. the park was empty, just the two of you, tucked away in your own world.

you leaned back on your hands, letting your head tilt up toward the sky. you didn’t want to wake him. you didn’t want to go home yet. you just wanted this, a soft evening. warm grass. the boy you maybe, possibly, quietly loved sleeping on your lap.

"just let me stay for a moment," wonwoo thought. "don’t wake me up." you look down when you hear a soft, "i love you too. i love you more." and you smile. he does too. (the next day, he opens his locker and finds a letter and a small giftbag. the letter was just a birthday letter but it made his heart flutter and he had to resist giggling out loud. the giftbag contained keychains, snacks, two books he's been wanting to buy, and a small box. when he opened the box, there was a bracelet and a small character on it, badtzmaru. a small note was stuck on the box: i'm wearing kuromi by the way. and i hope you like the gifts bday boi. - yours always, y/n." and gosh does he almost squeal in public.)

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cheolaholic · 3 months ago

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bound to you; jww

summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?

abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty

mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc

petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)

a/n; RAHH, new fic !! hope yall enjoy this because i sure as hell stressed over this fic way more than i should’ve- was also sick as i tried to finish this out and get it out (by its very overdued deadline rip) big thanks to rae ( @nerdycheol) and supi ( @supi-wupi) for beta reading and sharing their thoughts on it hehe ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

In this universe, there exists a city called Ashville.

A modern city that’s under the rule of an infamous Mafia family that’s been around for generations.

In this universe, each individual is born into one of three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. These roles are usually found out before they become teenagers, typically around the ages ten to twelve. Not only do they dictate one’s instincts, but it also determines their place in the social hierarchy.

Alphas stood at the very top of the hierarchy, their presence commanding and unyielding. Known as protectors and leaders, their strength and resolve made them pillars of stability and order. They exude an air of confidence, their pheromones carrying an unmistakable weight that both enthralls and intimidates. An Alpha’s instinct could be a double-edged sword – their need for dominance paired with their sense of responsibility.

Betas occupy the middle grounds, acting as stabilizers so that the world doesn’t get thrown into a world of instinctual chaos. Neither driven by the dominating urges of an Alpha nor bound by the vulnerabilities of an Omega, they serve as the mediators. The voice of reason, if you will. Their neutrality is what makes them the glue that holds society together, but could also be the cause of its downfall if they were to commit treason.

Finally, the Omegas, whose roles are often misunderstood due to their vulnerabilities. They’re the heart of the societal order, their instincts centered on nurture, connection, and to a few, rebellion. They are similar to Alphas in terms of pheromones, but what set them apart would be that an unclaimed Omega’s pheromones could attract unwanted attention from unclaimed Alphas, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

Claimed Omegas would bear the bonding bite of their Alphas. But, in the event an Omega is without a mate, either by choice or tragic events; they are forced into prostitution. It is a sad reality and possible outcome to many. Hence, many Omegas forged paths of quiet defiance, proving that they too are strong without a mate.

Click.

"Can you, please, get a bit closer?" The photographer asks, practically begging at this point.

Wonwoo heaves out a sigh while your shoulders slump, tired from having spent the entire morning posing for your wedding portrait. While it was true that you were somewhat excited to have finally found your mate, let’s just say of all the possible occupations you’ve come up with, a mafia boss was not on that list.

Hell, not even the Jeon Wonwoo was on your list.

The mob boss takes a step closer, placing both hands on your hips and the photographer beams at the sight. “Yes, yes! Just like that!” he exclaims, pulling out his camera as he continues to snap more portraits. Wonwoo feels your body tense up from the close proximity so he leans in close to your ear. “Relax, doll,” he whispers, “You’re tense and you look terrified. Nobody is going to believe that we’re ‘in love’ if you keep this up.”

Click.

“I-I’m sorry,” you squeaked, the grip you had on the bouquet of flowers tightening slightly, “ ‘M just nervous…” “Oh, I know you are, doll.” Wonwoo turns his head slightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and you let out a quiet gasp, “I can smell it. Do I scare you that much, hmm? Having second thoughts because your mate is the infamous mob boss?” He lets out a low chuckle when you shake your head profusely, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Keep your eyes on the camera, darling. Once this is over, you can go right back home.”

Click.

“Shouldn’t we make preparations for the ceremony?” you asked, “What about the cake? The venue? The–”

“Don’t stress your pretty head, doll,” Wonwoo says, giving your hips a light squeeze, “I’ve settled everything and your preferences have been taken into account, too. I’ll contact you for the cake tasting and venue checking.”

“And, it’s a wrap!” the photographer announces with a wide smile, “Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Jeon! I promise you won’t be disappointed with the results!”

You weren’t sure if the photographer was always this… enthusiastic with his clients. Or if he was holding himself back from pissing himself. ‘I’d be terrified too if the Jeons were my client…’

Not one soul didn’t know who the Jeons were. What started off as a small group of delinquents had eventually grown into one of the largest mobs to run Ashville. The man who started it all, Jeon Wonsoong, was a man who could send even the Devil running with its tail between its legs. While most mobsters were practically built on wealth, the Jeons’ were quite the opposite.

Jeon Wonsoong had built the mob of the Jeon family from scratch – from the literal blood, sweat and tears of his companions and oftentimes, those who had crossed him. The Jeons had their respect earned, not given on a silver platter. Many have mocked Wonsoong when he began building a name for the family – claiming that he was too ambitious, that he’d be better off as an underling.

They were the very same people he’s overthrown.

Just a mention of the Jeon family name was enough to drain anyone’s face of their colour.

Decades later, enter Jeon Wonwoo, the one and only beloved grandson of Jeon Wonsoong. Wonwoo already had the responsibilities of being the next mob boss ever since his mother’s pregnancy was announced. Wonwoo grew up watching how the “family business” worked, seeing his father fire bullets through heads after heads of rivals or anyone and anything that could be a threat to the family.

The poor boy was terrified at first but by the time his teenage years rolled around, he’s pretty much grown numb to the fear and squeamish feeling of seeing piles of bloodied dead bodies.

He’s watched the drug dealings, the smuggling – the most atrocious crimes or businesses known to man would be committed by the Jeons’, yet they would refuse to inflict any form of harm onto women and/or children for pleasure.

Wonwoo remembered bringing it up to his father when he was 16.

“Your grandpa is a family man, son. He’d never harm a child for the wrongdoings their parents have done – that’s why he takes them into the family and raises them to be his men.”

“What about crimes against women?”

“Crimes against women is unfortunately something that cannot be stopped, regardless whether or not the perpetrators are in a mob,” Wonsoong replies as he enters the room, one hand linked with his grandmother’s while the other held onto his walking stick, “We may be mob bosses, crime lords – whatever it is they call us, Wonwoo, but, causing harm to women and children for pleasure is a monstrosity I will not allow this organisation to ever commit. Your grandmother was assaulted for choosing me over some rich bastard – your uncles and I broke their arms, castrated them before making them kneel in front of her family to beg for forgiveness.”

“His heart is in the right place,” Wonwoo’s grandmother added on, “While being a mob boss or part of a mob gang is less than ideal for anyone, at least your grandfather shows some levels of decency as a human being.”

“So… in the scenario one of our members has assaulted, or caused harm to women or children in any way, what happens to them? Do they get their bones broken and then castrated?”

“That was back in the good old days, my dear grandson,” Wonsoong chuckled, “Now, they are battered and bruised, fingers cut, and castrated – before being shot thrice.”

Sure, it’s terrifying to have the entire nation’s economy in the palm of a mafia family.

Yeah, the occasional stumbling upon a body being dumped in certain areas could be traumatising. Hell, it even caused mass panic.

But, citizens soon learnt one saying, “Don’t cause the Jeons trouble, and trouble won’t find you”. A fancy way of saying, “If you don’t want to be the next corpse, don’t fuck with the Jeons”.

Because all the bodies found were individuals who have crossed them.

You stare at the wedding venue, brows furrowed as you take in the sight. You knew the Jeons had a taste for dark aesthetic, but you weren’t expecting the wedding decorations to be all black.

You weren’t exactly a superstitious person, but you did believe in the superstition that the colour black brings misfortune.

“Are the decorations up to your expectations, Mr Jeon?” the receptionist nervously asks, “We’ve followed the reference pictures and instructions you’ve given us.”

“Umm… Could I –” your breath catches in your throat when both men turn their attention to you. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “Not to your liking, doll?”

“No! No! The decorations are beautiful and the venue itself is grand,” you began, “But… Could we add a little bit of colour?”

The alpha crosses his arms, “Colour? You want to add colour?” He gestures to the venue, “You do realise that everything here is decorated with intention, right? Black represents strength, power, control. It’s to show dominance –”

You cut him off, “This is my wedding, too. Don’t I get a say in this?”

Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at your interruption, clearly not used to anyone defying him; much less an Omega that’s his soon-to-be wife. He narrows his eyes, a way to get you to back down without being too dominating so as to not scare off the beta of a receptionist; but you stood your ground. The air thickens, charged with tension.

“A little colour won’t hurt this black theme you have going on, Mr Jeon,” you state, crossing your own arms and taking a step forward, “You can have all the power and control you want, but I also deserve a say in how this day looks because it’s also my day.”

The silence hangs between you both, the weight of your words settling in. The receptionist watches with a bated breath and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then Wonwoo shifts, uncrossing his arms and turns to the receptionist, “Accommodate whatever requests the missus has.”

The receptionist visibly relaxes, nodding quickly as he whips out his tablet and moves to stand beside you as you walk around the venue, listing out the changes you wanted done.

“I love the black roses bouquet you’ve lined up down the aisle, but please add in some red roses. Switch out the black ribbons on the vases for white ones; you can barely see anything!”

Approaching the tables, you pick up one of the black napkins that’s been folded into a rose. You turn to the receptionist, “I want all the black napkins gone. Replace them with a burgundy red.” The receptionist jots down every detail, his fingers moving swiftly across the tablet screen as you continue to inspect the venue. Wonwoo watches you silently, impressed as you move with purpose and an air of confidence – something he rarely sees in an Omega.

You stare at the chairs that are draped in black fabric. “Are we welcoming death? I get the whole idea of this wedding to let it be known that you’re a mob boss, but at least have something that shows you have taste.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your bluntness before the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smirk. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his gaze still holds a steady weight, almost as though he’s studying you.

“Taste…” he echoes, his voice low, as if contemplating your word. “This is a wedding, doll, not some fashion show.”

You gently graze your fingertips over the black fabric, “Exactly, a wedding. I get that this whole… dark and mysterious aesthetic is your thing, Mr Jeon, but at least have a bit of sophistication.”

You turn to face him fully, “I’m not asking for colourful flowers or for them to be placed everywhere or even pink ribbons. Just a little bit of refinement so it doesn’t look like a funeral.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, and he watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He takes a step forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as he peers at the receptionist's tablet. “You’re changing everything, aren’t you?”

You meet his gaze, letting out a shaky breath as you try to maintain your confidence, “Not everything. Just enough for it to… look more like a wedding.”

The air remains thick, but there’s no hostility; just a slow understanding that’s beginning to form. After a few seconds, the Alpha lets out a quiet breath and gives a slight nod. “Alright, doll. I trust your judgement.”

He turns and walks out of the venue, saying he has a business call he needs to answer. The receptionist turns his attention back to you, “What would you like to be done with the chairs, um… Mrs Jeon..?”

You give the receptionist a small smile, “You can call me Miss Park. I’m not yet married to him to be called Mrs Jeon.”

The receptionist chuckles nervously, “Not exactly a chance I would want to take, umm… Missus.”

“Hmm, I’ll accept that term. Back to the chairs – let’s switch the black fabric for a red fabric, similar to the napkins. Have a black sash tied into a bow at the back, is that doable?”

The receptionist nods excitedly, tapping away at the tablet as he realises his commission for this wedding may be enough to seal him a quick vacation. “Yes, of course it is, Missus! Would that be all?”

You take one last look at the venue, glancing up at the chandeliers, “Just soften the lighting and we’re all settled.”

That was approximately six months ago, which means it’s been six months since your marriage to Jeon Wonwoo became official.

Park ___. That's your name, that’s who you are.

A small corner shop florist that was everyone’s go-to for event planning or last minute flowers. Everyone knew you by your flower shop. They knew you by your smile. They knew you as "the flower lady who always got your back!”.

Never in a million years would you think that you’d now be known as Jeon Wonwoo’s wife. Jeon Wonwoo’s Omega. Jeon Wonwoo’s mate.

To be frank, you hated the fact that all your years of hard work were being overlooked now that you were married or bound to Ashville’s most nefarious and powerful mob boss.

Your name, once synonymous with ambition and independence, was now whispered in hushed tones, attached only to his. Your achievements, your sacrifices, all the blood and sweat you had poured into carving your own path no longer mattered. To them, you were nothing more than an Omega claimed by an Alpha who took whatever he wanted.

The weight of your new… identity settles on your shoulders in tons. You imagined several shackles were locked around your limbs, cold and unyielding. It didn’t matter that you had built a name for yourself. Now, you were just his.

And the entire city knew it.

You hated the look people would give you – some with fear, some with pity. Others had a look of cruel amusement, as though they were watching a wild animal realising its cage had no door. That the cage was its new home.

It made your blood boil. You weren’t some weak, whimpering Omega who would roll over and get all submissive at the mere scent of their Alpha. You fought to stand where you were. But damn it all, thanks to the stupid bind fate had planned.

Wonwoo sat beside you in the limousine, both of you having just left a dinner event that was hosted by one of Wonwoo’s allies that was meant to celebrate his wedding. Not both of your weddings, just his. The entire night, you had been paraded around as though you were nothing more than an extension of him – his Omega, his possession, his wife. No one toasted to you, no one acknowledged you beyond hushed whispers and fleeting glances.

You clenched your fists, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“You’re upset,” Wonwoo states, his voice smooth and calculating, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smirk. “What’s bothering you, doll?”

“Don’t,” your tone came sharper than expected, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your voice was less hostile when you spoke again, “Don’t call me that, please.”

Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes – amusement mixed with the faintest hint of challenge. He tilts his head, studying you as if you were some artifact or priceless painting that’s been put up for display. “Don’t call you what?” he asked, his voice now softer, but the command in his words can’t be missed.

You swallowed thickly, trying to mask the storm inside you as you held your ground. “Don’t call me doll,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. There was a slight tremble in your voice, betraying the raw emotion you were trying to suppress. “I… I’m not a doll, or some object. I’m a person.”

Wonwoo’s remains unreadable, though the intensity of his gaze and his posture didn’t change. But, there was a subtle shift, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. “I see my Omega bites back,” he chuckles, his tone teasing but there was a hint of respect behind it. “I must say, it’s quite… refreshing… Or, entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

You frown, “Entertaining?”

His eyes scanned your face, but there was no mockery in his gaze. Instead, there was something more akin to admiration, though when it comes to Jeon Wonwoo, deciphering any of his words or looks was like trying to get pigs to fly. “Well, it’s not every day you see an Omega go head-to-head with an Alpha. Especially if the Omega is now under the Jeon Family.”

“I can play that pretty little housewife you’re picturing,” you mumble, releasing your clenched fists in favour of crossing your arms, looking out the window, “Just don’t expect me to be all pliant and submissive twenty-four seven.”

Another deep chuckle leaves his lips. Something about his words, about how he says you were the first Omega to not heel to traditions makes you feel oddly proud. It was clear he still had his guard up, but at least in this moment, you could tell he’s trying not to push your boundaries or you too far.

“Relax, babydoll.”

Hmm… Perhaps you could accept that pet name. It’s much better than being called ‘doll’.

His voice is less teasing but there was still that underlying sharpness. “You’re still you, despite what society says. That defiance you have there? There’s power in that. Not many dare to challenge the expectations placed on them. Especially Omegas.”

His words sunk in, not as an insult, but as an observation; a praise. It was one that left you feeling both uncertain yet strangely affirmed. It’s the first time in a while that someone, aside from your parents, recognised your rebellion, your defiance as something more than just a nuisance. Let alone an alpha like Jeon Wonwoo.

He reaches out a hand, finding purchase on your thigh. You tense at his touch, the heat of his hand sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But, you don’t pull away, feeling the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of your dress.

“I see that fire you’ve got in you, ___,” he continues, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of your thigh, “And it’s not just for show, too.”

Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”

A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”

"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."

He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.

“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”

You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –

“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.

“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”

His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.

But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.

“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”

While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.

“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”

“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.

Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”

“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”

“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”

You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.

The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.

Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.

You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.

He pulls his hand away from your thigh, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.

“But, there’s clearly something bothering you, babydoll. C’mon, out with it.”

You hesitate, lips parting, but no words come out. You’re not sure where to start or if you even want to start. Part of you still wants to keep everything bottled up, to keep your walls firmly in place. But then there’s him, sitting beside you with that quiet patience, the intensity in his gaze softened just enough to make you believe he might actually care about what you’re about to say.

You shift slightly in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “That… That Juyeon guy at the dinner…”

Wonwoo's expression darkens almost instantly, the warmth in his gaze snuffed out like a candle. His jaw tightens, and though he remains still, you can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of another Alpha’s name.

“And, what about him, babydoll?” His voice is calm, a little too calm. It’s the kind that you know he won’t like your answer.

You swallow hard, “He… The way he spoke to me…”

You sigh, “Look, I know it’s inevitable that people will start addressing by ‘title’ instead of my name. Wonwoo’s Omega. Wonwoo’s wife. But, I don’t like it being said in a condescending tone. The way he called or referred to me as Wonwoo’s little Omega felt as though I was just another weapon or gun you’ve added to your already large collection.”

You shift a little, the frustration simmering beneath your skin as you try to put your feelings into words. “I don’t want to be reduced to that. To just another thing you own. It’s already hard enough that I had to not cuss him out for trying to feel me up the entire time…”

Wonwoo stills.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

The air between you crackles with something dangerous. His expression doesn’t change, doesn’t twist in anger or morph into something openly furious, but the sheer stillness of him is enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Say that again, babydoll” he orders, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it’s the sharpest you’ve ever heard his voice. “What did you just say?”

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve screwed up by making such an accusation or statement about his associate. But, you pushed on, “Juyeon… He kept brushing up against me on the table. Placing his hand on my knee, my thigh. He’d touch my back too when he had the chance.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

But then, he slowly exhales through his nose, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if trying to keep his composure.

“I see.”

Two simple words. And yet, something about the way he says them sends a cold shiver down your spine.

“Wonwoo–”

“Mingyu,” he calls out to the driver.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Tell Jihoon to pass a message to Juyeon. I’d like to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Wonwoo!”

“I told you I’d stand by you when it matters,” Wonwoo repeats his earlier statement, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And this matters.”

You swallow, finding it harder to resist the pull of his words than you care to admit. The stubborn part of you wants to fight him, wants to tell him you don’t need his help, but you can’t deny how much relief it brings to know he won’t just stand idly as you get disrespected.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe that he might actually be a good guy.

“You… run a clothing line?”

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, his eyes on you as you stand by one of the many shelves he’s lined up on the walls. In your hands was a photo frame with a photo of him and a blonde man standing side-by-side in front of a building.

“Is that very surprising, babydoll?” he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just because my family runs the mafioso doesn’t mean I have to just run that business.”

Behind the pair was a store with the sign J&W. Wonwoo said it’s a combination of their initials, a collaboration of some sorts. When you asked why he can’t just open one under his own name, his reply was simply, “You really think people would dare to set foot into a shop that’s under my name?”

“This man… Is he a business partner? Shareholder?” A shadow looms over you and tilting your head backwards, it sits comfortably against his broad shoulder. Wonwoo hums, “You could say that. He’s… I consider Jeonghan a friend and if you know me well or long enough, I don’t offer my trust easily.”

“I’m guessing that trust also applies to the hiring process of your bodyguards?”

You’ve counted a maximum of… six bodyguards during your stay at his mansion. Well, excluding his right-hand man, Jihoon, that makes five. “Some… unfortunate incidents happened when I was younger that started my trust issues.”

His voice drops just a little, one hand coming up to rest on your waist. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches briefly before relaxing, as though catching himself before slipping too deep into memory.

“Jihoon and I have known each other since childhood. Family relations all that so it’s natural I came to trust him.”

“The others?”

“They’ve earned their place and my trust.”

You look down at the frame before tilting your head back up, raising it a little, “And Jeonghan?”

Wonwoo takes the item from your hand, as if examining it before handing it back to you. “Ah, Jeonghan…” A quiet chuckle slips past his lips, “Let’s say he’s a different story… I actually met him through Seungcheol, one of the bodyguards. You’ve probably seen him around – buff, kind of gray-ish hair.”

“The one that’s always butting heads with Mingyu?”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, “So you’ve been paying attention.” Amusement laces his tone, clearly not expecting you to do so. You narrowed your eyes, “Well, if I weren’t aware of my surroundings, I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long until you showed up, can I?”

He gives your waist a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple, an action that catches you off guard. “I suppose you have a point, babydoll,” he concedes, voice low. “And I suppose it’s hard to ignore the two when they’re at each other’s throat.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re not exactly subtle… Or quiet. It is interesting to see Mingyu surrender or lower his head, though…”

Wonwoo chuckles, taking the frame off your hands and setting it back on the shelf. “They’re both betas, but Seungcheol does have more of a… I guess more dominant nature. We’d suspected him of being an Alpha initially, but tests proved otherwise.” He adjusts the frame slightly before turning his attention back to you. “Still, that doesn’t stop him from acting like one.”

“And Mingyu just… lets him?”

The Alpha shrugs his shoulders. “Mingyu respects strength. He may not always like it, but he knows when to back down.”

You hum in thought. “And Jeonghan? Where does he fit into all of this?”

“He and Seungcheol go way back if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the full details, but from what I’ve gathered and from what they’ve told me respectively, they used to work together before Seungcheol decided to have a change in career paths.”

Another squeeze to your waist, “Jeonghan… plays by his own rules. Always has.”

You frown slightly, clearly confused by his words. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a businessman,” Wonwoo says simply, though there’s something guarded in the way he says it. “And like all businessmen, he knows how to get what he wants.”

That doesn’t quite answer your question, but you know better than to push too hard.

“Is he dangerous?”

Wonwoo’s lips curl at the question, but it’s anything but a smile. “He’s charming, I’ll give him that.. And that makes him the most dangerous of all.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know if it’s from his tone or the way his fingers finally slide away from your skin.

The air in the mansion felt… different.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but it just felt as though there was a shift to your surroundings. Your heart was racing despite it being a calm and quiet day, Wonwoo was out discussing a fashion deal and majority of the staff in his mansion were given specific orders to not bother you unless needed.

Your heart was racing faster than usual, your senses were heightened in a way that made your skin feel alive – and not in a good way. It was in a way that made your head dizzy. It was subtle at first, a warmth curling in your lower belly, an uncomfortable tingle spreading across your limbs that makes your skin far too sensitive to the air around you.

You ignored it at first – or at least, you tried to.

The mansion was eerily quiet. The grand halls, lined with cold marble and towering windows. Despite housing the most dangerous mafioso and his bodyguards, it felt safe. But, it could be because of Wonwoo’s presence and his pheromones.

Now, each step you took felt heavier, every breath felt sharper, and the very air felt charged with something oppressive.

You knew this feeling. You had been trained to recognise it.

But it was too soon. Far too soon.

You’ve kept track of your heat since it was revealed that you were an Omega. You’ve made sure to take your suppressants on time to prevent any mishaps, never missing a single dose. Yet, despite your careful planning and discipline…

Could it be Wonwoo’s pheromones?

It had to be – your cycle wasn’t due for another week, give or take.

You pressed a sweaty palm against the nearest wall, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. It started as a slow burn in your veins, a heat that swirled in your stomach and spread outwards.

It was definitely your heat. You could feel it creeping up, threatening to consume you if you didn’t act fast.

“Missus..?”

Mingyu.

“Missus, you don’t look so well,” the Beta points out, taking a step forward.

It was times like these that you were grateful for Wonwoo insisting that his staff were Betas. Before you came into the picture, it was to ensure no crossfires ever happened between him and an Alpha staff. Two or more Alphas under the same roof with some kind of “power imbalance” could lead to a hostile environment, and Wonwoo prefers peace and quiet… despite the field of work he’s in.

After you came into the picture, Wonwoo would answer that he didn’t want any unclaimed or stray Alphas pouncing on his Omega.

Mingyu sniffs the air and his ears perk up as he catches a whiff of sweetness in the air. It was sweet like candy and he instantly knew what was going on. Thankfully, his training somewhat prepared him for scenarios like this, albeit it was catered more towards Alphas.

“Missus, do you have any suppressants?” Mingyu, taking a cautious step forward so as not to agitate you. You shook your head, letting out a small sniffle, “I ran out of them… I-I was planning to get them some time this week because it isn’t due for another–”

“Okay, well, I could text Boss to pick some up for you once he’s done with his meeting,” the giant suggests, reaching out a hand to steady you when he notices the slight wobble in your stance. “In the meantime, you shouldn’t be out and about, Missus… Let’s get you–”

“What’s going on here?” Jihoon, Wonwoo’s right-hand, interrupts Mingyu’s sentence. The tall beta freezes, his hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. His jaw clenched, glancing over his shoulder, meeting Jihoon’s sharp, assessing gaze.

Unlike Mingyu, who was all warmth and concern, Jihoon carried an air of cold efficiency, his presence cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. The right-hand man’s eyes flicker to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on

Jihoon’s eyes flicker to you, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on what Mingyu already had. His brows furrow, and a barely-there sigh escapes his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, noticing the way you swayed slightly against the wall, trying to regain your balance.

Mingyu lowered his hand, deciding that it was best to keep a respectful distance from you. “Missus is having a bit of a… situation,” he said, his tone careful. “She’s early and ran out of her suppressants. I was gonna text Boss–”

“Call him.” The right-hand man’s voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. While his eyes softened just a touch as your discomfort, they still held that calculative gaze.

The tall giant was hesitant, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. Every one of Wonwoo’s staff knew that calling him while he’s in any sort of meeting was serious. Texting was discreet, something that could be swept under the rug or dealt with later. But a call meant urgency. It meant that Wonwoo would have to drop everything, no matter what he was doing, to deal with the situation.

But a look from Jihoon has Mingyu cursing under his breath, tapping the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Missus,” Jihoo’s tone while still authoritative, was softer than before. His gaze flickered to your hands that were trembling at your sides and against the wall. “Give me your hand.”

You’re momentarily confused, blinking up at him then lowering your gaze to his outstretched hand. His voice carried a quiet but insistent command, and despite the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over you, you obediently did so.

“You’ll be okay,” Jihoon murmured, though it seems he was reminding you rather than comforting you. “All the staff here are Betas, I’m sure Boss told you that. Your heat won’t affect us so there’s no need to fear us jumping on you.”

His gaze returns to Mingyu who’s speaking on the phone. “Won’t be long before Boss gets back. I’ll take you back to your room.” You nod your head, though you weren’t sure if it was in response to his reassurance or because you knew that your legs couldn’t walk without someone guiding you.

The walk through the halls felt like an endless blur, the air thick with both the scent of your heat and the tension of the situation. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants. The mansion, usually cold, felt suffocating now.

You barely registered when Jihoon pushed open a door, guiding you inside the room. You entered without a second thought, freezing when the scent hit you.

This wasn’t your room.

Your body recognised it before your mind did – the faint traces of musk, crisp cologne, and something that was deeply ingrained in your instincts. Your entire being tenses as you realised exactly where Jihoon had brought you.

Wonwoo’s room.

You let out a whimper, the lingering remnants of the Alpha’s pheromones made your entire body tense. He wasn’t even here yet, and you were already drowning in him. You stared at the king-sized bed, your body wanting to sink into it, to bury yourself in the softness of the sheets that still held the imprint of his presence. But, the rational part of your mind knew better.

Your sluggish thoughts tried to fight through the dizzying fog, “Jihoon, this- this isn't–”

“I know, Missus,” he interrupts cooly, “But, I'm going to assume this is your first heat that's induced by an Alpha’s pheromones. It'd be best to get used to Boss’ pheromones – not just for your heat, but for your well-being too.”

“Well-being?”

With surprising gentleness, he guides you to the edge of Wonwoo’s massive bed, lowering you to sit onto the cool sheets. It was a stark contrast to your fevered skin. Your mind screamed for you to leave, to fight the Beta and make a run for it to your room – but your body betrays you as it reacts to the lingering scent of Wonwoo’s pheromones.

Before you can do anything, you instinctively crawl onto the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you as you’re pulled towards the only source of comfort in your current suffocating haze. You somewhat collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face into it and inhaling deeply, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips as your thighs clench with need.

Your fingers curled into the fabric, your entire body as the Alpha’s scent wrapped around you like a vice.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.

You should be fighting this, clawing your way out of this haze and demanding to be taken back to your own room where you can suffer through this alone. But your instincts don’t care for logic. Instead, you’re in Wonwoo’s room, trembling and desperate, drowning in a need so raw it leaves you gasping.

You hated how easy it was to succumb.

And then it happens.

A shift in the air.

A choked noise left your lips as his scent filled the room completely, no longer just a lingering trace but a full, undeniable presence.

You sit up immediately, turning your head back to the door behind you before you can even think. It was an instinct, your body responding to an unspoken command before your mind can even have time to process anything.

“Nonu…”

Wonwoo definitely broke several speed limits on his way back to base.

The second he saw Mingyu’s name flash across his phone screen – not a text, but a phone call – he knew something was wrong. He brought the device to his ear, nothing more than a clipped ‘Speak’. Once Mingyu announced ‘Missus is early’, he ended the call and left the meeting without a word.

He didn’t care who was speaking. Didn’t care about the confused stares or hushed murmurs as he strode out the boardroom.

The only thing that mattered to him was getting back to you.

He stopped by a pharmacy, picking up several bottles of heat suppressants and a few cooling patches before speeding the rest on his way home.

Wonwoo storms through the halls of the base, his coat thrown onto the couch, his tie loosened and his jaw set tight.

Everyone knew they had to stay the hell out of his way.

His staff, the Betas, moved to the sides, pressing their back against the walls as he passed. Nobody dared to meet his gaze, not even Seungcheol – especially when the Alpha’s scent was laced with irritation – thick and suffocating in the air.

Grabbing a bottle of suppressants and a packet of heat patches from the plastic bag, he tosses the bag to a nearby staff. “Chan, store the suppressants in the missus’ bathroom cabinet. Cooling patches go in the mini fridge for her skincare.”

Chan nodded quickly, following the instructions.

Approaching his room, Jihoon steps aside from the door and slips past him without so much as a glance back. There was nothing that needed to be said. The right-hand man had done his job. Now, it was Wonwoo’s turn.

He entered the room and his expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. His nose twitched as your pheromones had practically covered every corner of his room. Sensing his presence, he watches as you sit up on your knees, head turning back and making eye contact with him.

“Nonu…”

He hears your breath hitch as he draws closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

“You really are a handful…” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. But, there was something else beneath it, something dark. It caused a shiver to run through you. Whether from arousal or fear, you’re not sure.

He steps closer, footsteps slow and deliberate. With each step he takes, a spike of awareness shot throughout your body. Your body reacts instinctively to his presence, knees pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache inside your stomach. But, you knew it wouldn’t work.

Nothing did.

Not the cool sheets, not the distance that grew shorter and shorter.

By the time Wonwoo reaches the edge of the bed, your entire frame is trembling. He tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“Nonu…”

Fuck. Your voice sounded so wrecked that the Alpha’s breath stuttered for just a second.

It sounded so needy, trembling with something raw that managed to slip through the cracks of Wonwoo’s self-restraint. His fingers twitched at his side before crossing his arms in front of his chest, the black button up straining slightly against his forearms and chest.

Your mind grew foggy as his scent grew thicker, wrapping around you completely. Before your mind could even process it, your body moved on its own – crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to where he stood.

Wonwoo didn’t understand why Jihoon would bring you to his room (he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it). You should be locked in your room, alone and away from him. Yet, here you were – right in the center of his personal space, clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring you to your senses.

The worst part of it all?

You looked like you belonged there.

He reaches out, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up. A small, needy whimper slips from your lips before you even realise. He orders you to stay still and you do, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Wonwoo presses the pill to your tongue and the bitter taste barely registers past the haze in your mind.

“Swallow.”

You obey instantly, throat bobbing as you swallow the suppressant without protest. You opened your mouth again, showing him that you had done exactly as he ordered.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened.

The fact that you took the suppressant without much fight should have relieved him, but it didn’t.

Because your lips trembled.

Because your pupils remain dilated.

You close your mouth, another whimper slipping free as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand that cupped your cheek. Both of you knew the heat won’t subside immediately, that it would take up to hours for the suppressant to actually kick in.

After a few moments, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and lets out a slow, measured breath.

“Good girl.”

Two words.

Just two simple words.

And yet, your entire body shudders.

His eyes darkened for a brief second before he stood to his full height, pulling his hand away as he took a step back. You whine at the loss of his hand against your kin, blinking up at him and Wonwoo swallows hard.

“Don’t.” His voice came out tighter than he intended, “Don’t look at me like that, babydoll.”

Like he was the only thing you needed.

Like he was the only one that could save you.

“Nonu, please,” you whined, “Make the pain go away.”

Wonwoon’s self-control snapped and before he could even think, he was on you. One hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head up.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft and gentle.

It was desperate – a clash of heat and hunger, of pent-up frustration.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt and his grip tightened. Wonwoo presses his lips harder against yours as he swallows every whimper, every soft plea. Your heat was drowning him, making him forget every single rule he had set for himself.

He knew this was reckless. Knew that this could have dire consequences.

But when you moaned against his lips, the noise soft and needy, every ounce of logic flew out the window. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was attempting to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved, sliding down your thighs and gripping them just enough to make you gasp again.

Wonwoo thinks he could still salvage what little control he had as he presses you deeper into the mattress – at least until he hears you whisper his name. The sound was soft, pleading – ruined, even. And he realises that it was already too late.

He’s gone.

“I’ll only help you this one time,” Wonwoo’s voice was low, dangerously low. He sounded controlled, but the way his hand gripped your thighs; the way his gaze dropped to your lips betrayed the inner turmoil he was facing. “Understood?”

You nodded immediately and he narrowed his eyes. But there was no mistaking the way your body arched towards him like it already knew what it wanted. His hands slid up your sides and under your shirt – his rough, calloused hands running against your smooth skin.

Just this once, he told himself.

Just tonight.

Just until the suppressants kicked in.

“Nonu!”

Fuck. The way you cried out so prettily for him had him curl his fingers deeper inside you. He was supposed to be in control, not let his instincts take over. But, damn it, the way you begged his name in that desperate, pleading tone had him losing focus.

Truth be told, Wonwoo always had a distaste for the heat and rut cycles. They were messy, primal; a reminder of how little control he had when it came to instincts like this. His body screamed for release, for dominance, but discomfort clawed at his mind.

But, God, the way you reacted to him. Every touch, every whine of his name, it ignited something he couldn’t deny.

Your back is pressed against his chest, the fabrics clinging to your skin damp with sweat and fever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could feel was how good his fingers were working inside you – skillful and relentless.

The fabrics between you only intensified the ache. Your night shorts were thrown somewhere into the corner of his room, the shirt somewhat bunched around your hips while Wonwoo, still fully dressed, sat behind you with his back against the headboard. His chest felt warm against your back, the steady breaths he let out betraying the tension vibrating through his body.

You keened, one arm thrown back to hold the back of his neck in an attempt to ground yourself. “Nonu…” You whimpered, voice cracked and ruined. “N-Need more. Please, I–”

“I know,” he growls against the side of your neck, voice strained. His lips brushed your skin, not quite a kiss, but the warmth made your entire body shudder. “I know, babydoll. Your poor pussy needs more, right? Your heat has you all hot and aching, doesn't it?”

His free hand rests on your waist, anchoring you against him as his fingers curled again – this time slower, as though he’s searching for something. “She’s begging, babydoll. Dripping and sucking my fingers in like she knows who she belongs to.”

A sharp gasp leaves your lips and Wonwoo feels your body tremble. Your legs try to snap shut and he whispers into your ear, “That the spot?”

You nodded, back arching as his fingertips continue to bully your g-spot. You could feel him pulsing hard through his pants, pressed flush against your ass. Every clothes rut of his hips against you has you crying out – needy, frustrated.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, the tension coiling deep in your gut and it was ready to break. Wonwoo continues to stimulate that spongy spot, his fingers working to open you up with expert precision. “You’re close, aren’t you, babydoll?”

You could only nod, not trusting your words as your mouth parts to let out a high pitched moan as your body surged towards the edge. He presses his fingers until they’re knuckle deep inside you, curling up right against that spot as his thumb circles over your swollen clit.

“C’mon,” he rasps into your ear, “Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

White hot pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs and your entire body seizes as you cried out, body jerking against the Alpha behind you as a gush of wetness spilled over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Instead he holds you tighter, hands still resting between your legs but his thumb circles your clit in a manner that was meant to ground you. You're gasping and shaking in his arms, hands trying to push at his wrists, desperate but weak. You aren’t sure if it was overstimulation or if you wanted him to give you more.

His voice was low, full of something far too tender for the way his heart was racing – for the way he’d always acted. “Good girl. Did so well for me.”

Wonwoo looks down at you only to be met by you looking up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted in a silent plea. You were flushed and panting in his lap, slick coating his fingers.

Despite his distaste for these cycles, he knew he’d do it again.

He hated how much he realised he loved this, how he could pull those sounds from you.

But, he loved how he was the only one who could pull those noises from you.

Loved how you trusted him through it.

Wonwoo carefully pulls out his fingers, ready to move you back to your room – then you whimper out his name like it was a prayer meant just for him.

“Babydoll,” he growls lowly, voice rough and filled with warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Yet you did.

Maybe it was the scent of your heat. Maybe it was the way you clung to him, silently begging him. Maybe it was the way that nickname you called him rolled off your tongue like he was your God.

He’s quick to have you pressed against the mattress, hips flushed against yours as he finally gives in to the carnal pull. You hear him fumbling with his belt and the sound of his zipper coming undone. The sudden shift in the situation knocks the air straight from your lungs.

One moment he’s cradling you in his arms, the next you’re sprawled beneath him; his hands on either side of your head to not just keep himself up, but to keep you right where he wants you.

Where you need to be.

You gasp out his title – not his name or that cute lil nickname you just gave him, but his title. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers claw into the bedding, silently begging for him to just fill you up.

And he does.

In one thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and savours the way you cry out to him, body arching as your pussy clamps down on him.

He leans over you, chest pressed against yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Feel that, babydoll? That’s me shaping your pussy so that it only knows how to take my dick.” He pulls his hips back, just until only his tip remains inside before slamming forward, making sure you feel him in your womb. “Wanted me to fuck you? Well, I’m gonna give it to you.”

A needy sob escapes your lips as he sets a punishing pace; and he chuckles lowly, hot breath against your neck. His lips part and he bites down on your neck, hard, claiming the spot with a bruising mark. You gasp, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your pussy to squeeze him tighter.

Wonwoo growls, hips stuttering for just a moment before he thrusts even deeper, harder – making sure your walls remember every vein, every inch.

“My sweet Omega,” he grunts against your skin, voice rough and possessive. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite. You mewl, feeling the imprint of his teeth as though he was trying to brand you as his.

Your hands scramble for purchase, settling on his back and your nails dragged down his back as he fucks you through every tremble, every whimper.

“You like that, dontcha babydoll?” he sits up, knees digging into the mattress as his hands grip your hips so tightly you were sure it’d start to bruise. All you could do was nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he coos condescendingly, one hand sliding up your body to wrap itself loosely around your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, just letting it sit there as a reminder of his control, his claim.

And it was like a switch flipped.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips, back arching off the mattress as more slick drips out of your pussy, creating a white ring of cream around the base of the Alpha’s cock.

You didn’t mean to react the way you did, and Wonwoo felt it.

The way your walls clenched around him tighter, the sudden wetness coating where your hips met.

“Oh?” his tone was dark with approval, “You like that?”

“S-So good, Alpha,” you choked out, mind growing hazy from your heat and the pleasure, “Love.. Love it so much! Feels s’good!”

His thrusts grew rougher as something primal took over. He removes his hand from your throat, sliding it down your body to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arches as a sharp cry tears from your throat, body trembling uncontrollably. Slick gushes out from your pussy as you squirt again, drenching his shirt and milking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, hips stuttering at the milking compression of your cunt. “Shit, I’m close, babydoll. And you're gonna let me fill you, isn’t that right?”

You nodded through the haze, words slurred by pleasure, “A-Alpha!”

That was all it took. With one final thrust, Wonwoo buries himself to the hilt as his cock twitches inside you as he cums deep inside you.

The room was thick with the scent of your heat and sex, but all Wonwoo could hear was the sound of your soft, uneven breaths – body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, barely conscious of anything except for the way he filled you to the brim.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of your creamed pussy. But when he hears your soft whimper, noticing the way your body twitching from oversensitivity, he’s snapped back to reality.

Wonwoo groans as he carefully pulls out, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out from you – coating the insides of your thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath you. You whimper at the emptiness, at the sudden cold air on your overheated skin.

He doesn’t say anything, only tucking himself back into his pants and stands up.

For a moment, you thought he’d leave you in his room – maybe even go as far as to sleep in one of the guest rooms.

But then, you hear the faint rustling of the plastic bag before the mattress dips beside you.

Wonwoo leans over, gently brushing away the sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead. You can barely keep your eyes open, the heat and aftermath pulling you under.

Then, coolness.

A soothing, mental chill spreads over your fevered skin as he places a cooling patch on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath, weakly reaching out for him.

Wonwoo takes them in his.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice no longer holding that sharp or commanding tone. Instead, it sounds softer. “I’ve got you babydoll.”

His other hand adjusts the sheets around your body, tugging the blanket up to your waist after retrieving your night shorts from the floor. He made sure your legs weren’t tangled, made sure you were comfortable.

You blinked up at him sleepily, cheeks still flushed a shade of red and lashes slightly damp. “Please stay, Nonu…”

He freezes.

For a moment, the only sound was his breath, still a little uneven. You could tell he was torn between his old habit of keeping you at arm’s length and giving into his instincts.

Without uttering a word, he eases under the covers beside you, gently pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “Of course, babydoll. You’ll sleep easier if I’m here.”

Wonwoo never stays. Once he’s made sure you’re in good hands, he'd leave.

But, tonight wasn’t like the others.

Tonight, he stayed – not to keep his distance, but to keep you close.

Tonight, he stayed to protect you.

His.

You felt it then– the way he held you. Not like a favour, but like someone claiming what’s his.

Weeks after that incident during your heat, you and Wonwoo went on with your lives as though nothing had happened. The mansion returned to its usual rhythm – quiet mornings, the hum of the electric kettle.

Wonwoo buried himself in work, occasionally checking up on you as per his mother’s command, occasionally picking you up from your flower shop instead of leaving it to Mingyu. They were… small efforts into making the marriage look less of a business arrangement, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You busied yourself with your own work, too. But, you’d still go grocery shopping and prepare meals for the people of the mansion (which frankly, was a task you overestimated because cooking for 6 people proved to be a difficult task). They’d thank you, of course – you went through all the time and effort – it’d be wrong for them not to appreciate it and clean up after themselves.

However, you were careful to not let yourself brush against the Alpha for too long. Nor would you let your thoughts drift back to the night where tangled limbs and breathless whispers once filled the space.

While you both went on with your lives, acting as though nothing had happened – there was a subtle shift in the air.

Mingyu was the first to notice it.

Being one of the bulkier guards, he had been stationed at the mansion to keep an eye on things during your off days. It was a simple routine he took a liking to – he gets to have a nice conversation with less scarier missus and it was considered low stake.

That morning started out no different than the others. You passed him in the hallway, offering a soft habitual “Morning, Gyu” as you balanced a basket of laundry against your hip. He nodded in return, returning the smile and his eyes followed you until you turned a corner.

His nose twitched as he picked up the smell of something… sweet. Like the first bloom of spring in the middle of winter.

It was far too faint for it to be a heat cycle, but it still lingered in the air.

Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You looked the same, moved the same. But there was something different about your aura.

Wonwoo only noticed the sweetness of your pheromones once Mingyu brought it up.

He’d pause a little longer when he passed you in the hallway, fingers twitching just a little when your scent clung to the couch after sitting on it for hours. His jaw would flex when you leaned over him to grab something from the kitchen shelf.

Yet, he didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

You hear the door open just past midnight.

Muted voices. Heavy boots.

You catch a whiff of the faint, metallic tang of blood and turn your head towards the front door.

Wonwoo was the first to enter, as always. His expression is calm, unreadable. His coat hung open, dark with flecks of something you didn’t need to guess. Jihoon followed close behind, quieter than usual. His shirt was stained too, though he’d slug his jacket over his arm to conceal most of it.

He looked… calmer. The tiredness in his eyes were evident, but he didn’t have that frenzied look he always had. There was no smirk, no offhand remarks about which body part he sliced off, where he left it or if he convinced Wonwoo to break every bone of their rivals.

You stayed curled on the far end of the couch, a soft blanket on your lap with a book in hand. “Hi, boys. Long night?” You asked, tone casual but laced with something warmer

“Hey, Missus,” Jihoon responds, brief but polite. “Kinda.. But, we got it under control.”

He disappears down the hallway without another word, tugging off his bloodied gloves. Wonwoo follows a beat later, slinging his coat over one shoulder, a faint dark red smear on his jaw. “Have you had dinner, babydoll?” His voice was oddly warm.

You nodded your head, “Gyu made some aglio olio with steak. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Wonwoo nods in response. He continues to stand there, looking at you like he was still figuring out he’s supposed to get used to coming home to this – to you.

You look back at him, and he notices the subtle way your nose wrinkled at the scent clinging to his nose, how your fingers twitched against the cover of the book you’re holding.

“I’ll go shower,” he mumbles, voice lowering. It almost sounded like an apology in disguise.

He walks up the stairs, halting momentarily to look back at you. That scent of yours still hangs in the air – sweet, distracting. Wonwoo stands there for a few more seconds before disappearing in the halls of the house, leaving silence and a rising heat in your chest.

He reappears moments later, now in a loose shirt and pyjama pants – looking more like a sleep-deprived graduate student than a man capable of unspeakable violence. He heads towards the kitchen and you follow him, feet quiet against the hardwood floor.

The house felt too big at that moment, the silence stretching between the walls like it was listening. The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times – opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled wine. It was like he belonged in the silence.

The overhead light pooled golden over him, catching in the soft fall of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. The loose fabric of his shirt clung to the curve of his shoulder, just barely damp from the shower he just took, and you caught yourself staring – longer than you should have.

“You’re not gonna eat what Gyu made?” you asked, breaking the silence between you both before it could swallow you whole.

Wonwoo didn’t look back at first, popping the cork with one clean motion and pouring himself a glass with a kind of ease that spoke about how often he did this – like he was numbing or avoiding something.

“It’s cold now,” he answers, voice quiet but not dismissive. The wine filled his glass with a smooth swirl of deep red.

Then, without a word, he reached for another glass.

Not for wine.

He filled it with water from the chilled filter on the fridge, the sound soft and steady in the stillness of the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter near you and you blinked. There was no eye contact nor explanation, but the gesture settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You take a step closer, fingers brushing against the cool glass as you pick it up. “Thanks..” You take a sip and set it back down, leaning against the counter with your arms folded loosely. “But, just because the food is cold means it’s bad.”

“I’m not hungry.”

You watch him bring the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. His gaze lingered on the dark liquid, as though he was contemplating something.

“You didn’t even look at the plate,” your voice wasn’t accusatory, it was just gentle – just there.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, not exactly a sigh. “Didn’t need to.”

The silence that followed felt different – it felt tighter.

Then, without thinking, you moved a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Just enough for your voice to come out quieter when you asked, “Do you ever let yourself take a break, Nonu?”

Wonwoo’s jaw tensed. He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “I take a break when I sleep.”

“You barely sleep…”

You see a flicker in his eyes – you touched something.

He knew it.

You knew it.

But he didn’t run from it, at least not this time.

“Then I guess I don’t stop,” his reply was low, maybe a little bit more honest than he meant it to be.

You stood there for a beat, the glass cool in your hands – the silence wrapping around you both like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off. Your eyes dropped to the way his fingers held the wine glass, knuckles still faintly pale from tension. The condensation on your own glass trickles down your fingers, as though it was trying to ground you in the moment.

“Are you hurt anywhere, Nonu?” The question came out softer than you meant it to be – it sounded warm and it lingered in the air. You didn’t look at him directly, just watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass.

“No.”

It was clipped. Cold. Dismissive.

The kind of answer that was meant to end the conversation before it could even start. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Of course – you weren’t supposed to ask. You weren’t supposed to care – not like that. Not out loud.

He didn’t move at first. Just standing there, knuckles pale against the glass as his eyes locked on some distant point past the kitchen tiles. The silence stretched, heavy and humming, until he sniffs your sweetness in the air again. The sweet scent relaxed his posture, his shoulders dropping just a little and his grip around the glass loosened.

You watched him carefully, heart thudding in your chest and your voice caught before you even knew you were going to speak again.

“Can… Can I sleep with you tonight, Nonu?”

The words hang in the air, delicate and trembling.

It was too soft to take back. Too honest to ignore.

His fingers stilled around the glass, the sound of the fridge humming filled the silence that followed. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it had. Your heart thudded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the quiet.

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed darker tonight, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite place a finger on. He looked tired – not just physically-bone-deep tired, but it was like the world had taken a little more from him than he was willing to admit. Whatever he and Jihoon did out there, it still clung to him like smoke.

“Trouble sleeping lately, babydoll?” His voice was surprisingly soft, low and quiet like he didn’t want to wake the others in the house.

You nodded, looking at the glass in your hand. “The air’s been… weird lately. A-And, it’s hard to sleep without you lately.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass, voice barely above a whisper – shaky and raw, “I-I don’t know why but it is… Especially when you’re gone.”

He was still staring, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up – not when you knew his expression is all it takes to undo you.

Another beat of silence.

One second.

Two.

Then, you hear a quiet breath escape him. His glass clinks on the counter as he sets his drink down.

His voice was soft, “Come on, babydoll.”

His response caught you off guard. When you looked up, he was already turning away, walking toward his room – but his pace was slower than usual. As though he was waiting for you to catch up to him.

Your heart flutters, warmth flooding your chest even as your legs carry you forward. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything when you slipped into his room behind him, the bed dipping under your weight. The mattress sighs softly when you settle in beside him – it wasn’t the first time you shared a bed, but it was the first time you asked to.

You lay on your side, back facing him as you clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing anchoring you. Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, but you could hear his breathing – steady, though it was a little too measured to be natural. Awake. Thinking.

Maybe regretting this decision.

Your throat tightens, tears brimming in your eyes as you start to overthink.

But then, quietly, just barely there, you feel the blanket shift. The mattress dips again, and your back feels warmer as his body inches close. It doesn’t touch, though it was there.

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air so thick that you could feel it pressing against your skin.

Then, slowly his arm slips around your waist. It was slow enough to almost break you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop him. You don’t move, letting yourself sink into him. His hand rests lightly on your stomach, not in a possessive manner; just there, offering you a grounding presence.

“I don’t sleep well because I worry of the danger you’re in by being my mate,” he murmurs, voice almost buried against the back of your neck. “Not when I come back from that kind of work. Not unless I know you’re safe.”

You close your eyes, something in your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, a kind of raw honesty he rarely ever let slip.

“I am safe, Nonu,” you whispered, “With you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, the way his forehead lightly brushes against your shoulder… It was enough.

You didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to.

Sleep came slowly that night, but this time – when it did, it came easier.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, neither of you woke up alone.

Wonwoo stayed late at the office one night. The quiet hum of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to distract him from the glow of his screen or the dull ache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.

Numbers blurred, reports repeated themselves – he was going through the motions, more out of habit than necessity.

His phone buzzed. His mother.

“Mother?”

“Wonwoo,” her voice was soft, but there was a certain sharp edge to it. “You’re working late again?”

“I am,” he said flatly, not annoyed – just a little confused as to why his mother was calling him.

“Go home, Wonwoo. Be with your mate. She needs you.”

The words stung more than it should have.

“She has Mingyu and Chan looking after her–”

“She doesn’t need them, Wonwoo.” Her voice firmer, “She needs you. Her Alpha.”

“What’s this about, Mother?”

“It’s hard for me to explain this over the phone, Wonwoo. Just… Just go home and be with ___, okay?”

The line disconnects before he could respond. Staring at his phone, his thumb hovers over the redial button, demanding answers.

He never got the chance.

His phone rang again – this time, Mingyu’s name flashes across the screen.

It was never a good sign when his men called him.

He picks it up on the first ring. “What?”

“Boss– Wonwoo– fuck,” Mingyu’s voice was shaking, breathless. “Where are you? Missus is gone. The door was busted in, Chan’s unconscious near the stairs and– fuck– there’s blood.”

The words don’t register at first.

“She’s gone.”

Wonwoo froze in his seat, phone pressed to his ear – Mingyu and Seungcheol shouting on the other end. Something about getting Chan medical help for a GSW to his abdomen. The office lights hummed quietly and everything around him felt… wrong. Too still. Too normal.

It was so… eerie.

Blood. Mingyu said there was blood.

“How messy is the place? How’s Chan?”

He finally stands up from the desk, papers fluttering off his desk, forgotten. His grip tightens around the phone until his knuckles whitened.

“It’s bad, Boss. This place is trashed, fuck.” Shuffling can be heard before Mingyu speaks up again, “Chan said she fought. Oh fuck, one of the guy’s face is clawed off.”

“Gyu!” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the background, “We got a survivor! Tell Wonwoo to come back quickly!”

Mingyu didn’t need to relay the message, already hearing Wonwoo starting up his car.

The Alpha’s jaw clenched so tightly that it started to ache. A sound clawed its way up his throat, something raw and ragged. But, he swallowed it down. “How long ago?”

“About an hour. Maybe less. Cheol and I went out to get some groceries and when we got back, we found the place like this.”

“Chan and Vernon?”

“Chan’s wound up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay. Vernon’s helping Cheol prepare the bastard that survived.”

Wonwoo exhales through his nose. He feels sick. His body wants to move, to run, to destroy something – but his mind was spiraling, trapped in the memory of your last interaction. Cold, casual and detached. Like you were just a roommate. Like he hadn’t felt the way you cling to him during that heat. Like he hadn’t felt you snuggle up close to him when you both fell asleep in the same bed weeks after.

He should’ve listened to his mother.

He should’ve come home.

“Make sure that bastard lives until I get there,” he ordered Mingyu, voice now low and lethal. “Tell Jihoon to get his switchblade ready.”

He ended the call and drove through the streets. The engine roars to life like it felt his fury, the sound tearing through the night as he shot out of the compound. Tires screamed against the pavement, and the city blurred past him – buildings, lights, the occasional flash of red as he burned through the intersections without hesitation.

You were his.

And someone had taken you.

He was going to make sure he’d put an end to those bastards.

Your head pounded.

The room swayed as you blinked awake, wrists bound behind your back and there was a coppery tang in your mouth. A single overhead light buzzed above you, like a spotlight focusing on the main lead, and the rest of the space was swallowed in the shadows.

Concrete walls. Damp floor. Industrial. Underground? Maybe.

You shifted, testing the restraints. You could move, but it’d take some effort to break free from them. Then you hear it.

Footsteps.

You stilled, keeping your head low as several men stepped into the room. You didn’t recognise their scents. They weren’t of anyone familiar to you. They weren’t Wonwoo.

One of them circled you, stopping somewhere behind you. “She’s smaller than I thought…”

“Yeah, but she’s feisty,” came another, his voice sharper. “Don’t let her face or size fool you. Bitch fucking bit me when we took her in. Had to knock her out to make things easier.”

One knelt in front of you, just out of kicking distance but you held back. “You’re awake.”

“Such amazing observation skills,” you snorted, blinking the haze from your vision. “What gave it away? My eyes being open or the fact that I’m glaring back at you?”

It was a shame they didn’t laugh.

“If you’re smart and behave, maybe we’ll go easy on you.”

You scoff, “Please, if you were smart, you’d know you made a grave mistake the moment you busted my front door in.”

The figure leans in slightly, expecting fear but all you offered was a tilt your head. “So, what’s the plan? Some kind of ransom? Revenge?”

The masked man tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not exactly acting like a scared little Omega.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that – I bark and bite. If you assholes think you can–”

Smack.

A sharp slap landed across your cheek as you were mid-sentence. The sting flared, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture, licking the copper from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, my bad…” your voice was low, “But you really should’ve known better than to think I’d be the damsel in distress type.”

There were at least three of them when they returned after leaving you alone for hours. They still wore those black face masks, as if that was supposed to scare you.

One carried a metal case and the other cracked his knuckles, another move that was meant to scare you. But what was scaring you the most was how terrible their intimidation tactics were. You sat upright the best you could, back straight against the wooden chair, chin lifted like you hadn’t been bound for hours. Like you weren’t aching in places you hadn’t known could ache.

They didn’t speak at first, only opening up the case. Silver tools gleamed under the low light.

You arched a brow. “Wow. Dontcha think that’s a little dramatic? What happened to just asking nicely?”

One stepped forward and backhanded you, hard. Your head snapped to the side, cheek screaming from the impact, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of crying out in pain.

“Tell us everything you know about the Jeon clan,” demanded the man that opened the metal case. “Security. Other bases. Codes, if you know any.”

You spit at his face.

They didn’t like that.

The first hit was to your stomach – brutal and deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. Then another to your ribs, then your face again. You lost count after five, maybe six.

Still, you didn’t scream.

“Damn, this bitch can take hits.”

Pain blurred the edges of your vision, but you clung to consciousness with everything you had. You thought of Wonwoo. Of how he looked at you when you didn’t think you were watching. Of how he subtly showed his affection thinking you wouldn’t notice.

You thought about how furious he’d be if he were to see you in the state you were in. Wonwoo’s mother had previously mentioned their stand on crimes against women, how if their own had even a strand of hair plucked, the perpetrators would face dire consequences.

When they paused, panting like they’d been doing real work, one leaned in and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it hard. “Last chance. Talk.”

The smile you gave had one of them flinching. Not because of how badly beaten up you looked, but because it bordered on the line of a psychotic smile.

“The Jeons don’t break, and neither do I. We fucking burn.”

These bastards sure as hell loved leaving you alone. Though you’d consider it to be a mistake on their end.

Your body was wrecked – ribs aching, lip split and bruises were already to form everywhere. But you were still breathing, still alive and that was enough.

You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling through the haze of the pain. Blood dripped down your chin, but your hands were slick now – whether it was from blood or sweat, you couldn’t tell. You twist your wrists again, angling against the metal cuff just the way Wonwoo had shown you during one of his late-night, paranoid self-defense lessons. “If they bind you with steel, look for tension. Give it slack, then break it where it’s weakest. Everything has a weak point.”

It hurt like hell, but you kept going. The metal bites deeper into your skin before it snapped.

You stifle a gasp as the cuff breaks loose with a sharp clink. Your left wrist was bleeding freely now, but you didn’t waste a second. You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Either they didn’t you’d try, or they thought you couldn’t.

You slid out silently, stating low. You hear footsteps and muffled voices somewhere down the hall. Realising you needed a weapon, you decided to find their weapons storage. Your head spun, but you pressed forward and duck into the first door you saw.

Luck must’ve been on your side because it led you exactly where you wanted.

Guns were lined up on the tables, the overhead lighting making it seem more ominous than it already was. Your fingers shook as you picked up a semi-automatic handgun – sleek, back, loaded. Wonwoo’s voice echoed again, “Don’t ever hesitate to shoot. That gives them a room to attack. You pull the trigger the moment they come into view.”

You hear footsteps approaching and pressing your back up against the wall, breathing through your nose, waiting. You hold the gun close to your chest, and when the masked man steps inside, you don't hesitate.

Bang.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes, the sound of the shot echoes through the hallway.

There was no going back now.

Shouts echoed down the hall and you made a run for it. Turning a corner, you came face-to-face with two more men. They hadn’t expected you to be armed, by the time they noticed the gun in your hand and reached for theirs, you had already pulled the trigger.

You ran past their motionless bodies, trying to figure out where you were. The layout and interior – you knew you were in some kind of warehouse. Then you smell it – the night air, you were close to an exit.

You burst through a door, grunting in pain from the sheer force you had put on your shoulder to get the damn thing to open. Your knees almost gave out, the adrenaline making your hands shake.

You kept the gun raised, every shadow looked like another threat.

But you didn’t stop.

Not until you were safe. Not until you got back to Wonwoo.

But you weren’t able to get far.

The alley had opened into a dead-end loading yard and your heart dropped the second you saw the rusted fence, the padlocked gate.

A black van screeched to a halt behind you. You spun, gun raised – but hands grabbed you from both sides before you could even aim. You bit, clawed and kicked, but there were too many. They slammed you face first down onto the ground, a heavy knee to your back following. Your cheek scraped against the pavement and the gun slipped out of your hand.

“Hello, ___.”

You froze, your blood went cold.

Juyeon.

You turned your head enough to see him step into view. His suit was stained, fingers missing from both hands – four gone entirely with pink scars crusted where they’d once been. He flexed what was left, grimacing slightly as if the sight offended him.

Wonwoo had done that. You knew it because Jihoon had told you – how he encouraged your Alpha to cut off the fingers on his left hand so they were more… symmetrical.

“You fucking bastard,” you spat, “I’ll have them dismember you–”

His laugh cuts you off. “Still got some fight in you, I see,” he mused. “That’s what my men meant by you’re no ordinary Omega.” He crouches down, eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “But you’re more useful to me if you shut the fuck up.”

You snarled, bucking under the weight holding you down. One of his men shoved your head back down as Juyeon took out a syringe from his suit. The liquid was thick, glowing a faint blue under the alley lights.

“You know what this is, little Omega?” he asked conversationally, “The labs call it Phase Nine. It’s new. Not on the market nor the black market.”

You went still.

“It’s a liquid heat inducer that’s designed to have your primal instincts override your rationale. It could even break bonded cycles.”

You thrashed, “Don’t you fucking touch me with that! I swear I’ll–”

“Hold her,” Juyeon ordered.

“No!” You kicked wildly, but the hands clamped down harder.

“I said hold her!”

You screamed when he jabbed the needle into your neck and depressed the plunger.

A cold, burning sensation spreads through your veins like ice catching on fire. Your limbs trembled violently and your lungs burned with every breath you take. You heard Juyeon chuckle as darkness begins to swallow your vision.

“Take a little nap,” he whispers, “And when you wake up, your body won’t resist anymore.”

You wake to the sound of voices – low, mocking laughter. Your head throbbed, and your body felt… wrong. It felt as though weights were chained to your body and your head felt fuzzy. The heat inducers were still coursing through your veins, but you fought the haze, clinging to the remaining sharpness you had in the chaos of your mind.

You feel the fire burn from inside out, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

The door to the room opened and Juyeon stepped in, his fingers twitching where they were still missing. He wore that sharp, predatory grin on his face and how you wished you could slap it right off of his face. His presence was suffocating and the pheromones he was releasing stank up the room so bad you wanted to throw up.

You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself up from the cool, concrete floor. Your limbs felt like lead, but you couldn’t let him get close.

Only Wonwoo could touch you.

Not this disgusting bastard.

He notices the faint fight in your eyes and pauses, a cruel smile crept onto his face as he observes your struggle. “Shit, you are a tough one to break. Lucky for me I got more of those inducers to break you.”

He takes another step forward and your body tensed. “C’mere, Omega,” Juyeon coaxes, his voice so syrupy that it twists your stomach the wrong way. “Let me help you with that heat of yours, yeah? I’ve got something far better than the inducer you’re desperately fighting. Something real.”

You growl, throwing your body into him. Your actions startled him – he hadn’t expected you to fight, not with the drugs clouding your senses. But you didn’t need to be at your best. You needed to make him understand that you were more than just an Omega.

You got a punch in, a brutal hook to his jaw and knocking him back. Juyeon staggered, but he didn’t fall. His men moved, one lunging towards you; but you managed to catch his wrist, twisting it behind his back with a vicious snap, making him grunt in pain.

Another went for your throat, but you kicked up, shoes hitting him in the stomach that had him doubling over, gasping for air. It’s a shame you weren’t wearing your heels, would’ve left a mark on the bastard.

You moved again, a blur of motion and rage. You weren’t thinking nor did you care, you only had one goal – to survive.

Another man reached for your arm. You spun, elbowing him in the face then slamming your knee into his ribs. He staggers, gasping for breath. You were covered in sweat, heart pounding as your body rebels against the inducers.

One of Juyeon’s man was quick enough to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. “That’s enough,” Juyeon sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabs another syringe from the table, the liquid inside glowing a sickly blue. “You want to fucking fight? Fine. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

You hissed, struggling against the man holding you, but the inducers were still tearing through you. The heat was unbearable, your vision swimming in and out of focus. You were starting to lose control.

“Fight all you want, sweetheart,” his voice was mocking as he approached with the needle. “But you’ll break eventually.”

Your hands were still unrestrained, and in that final moment of desperation, you grabbed an old pipe that lay on the ground. You swung it with all your might, hitting the nearest man across the skull. He collapsed with a sickening thud, and you barely had time to register the victory before Juyeon was on you again.

Your body was trembling, soaked in sweat as blood was smeared across your face and hands. The pipe clattered to the floor beside you, slick with someone else’s blood. Juyeon stood across from you, staggering as his face twists into something monstrous. The second that syringe slipped from his grasp during your scuffle, it shattered across the cement.

“You little bitch,” he spat, pulling out a switchblade from his pockets. “You think you’ve won?”

You didn’t answer, hands scrambling for the gun from one of his men on the floor. Your hands shook, but you raised the weapon anyway. Just like Wonwoo taught you.

Never hesitate when it comes to your life.

Juyeon takes a step forward and you pull the trigger.

Bang.

The scream that tore out of his throat was inhuman.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch as the front of his pants soaked red. He writhed, gasping and cursing through clenched teeth. It wasn’t a clean shot, but you didn't want it to be.

Your hands were still trembling as you kept the gun trained on him. “Never… Never underestimate an Omega. Especially me.”

The door slammed open behind you. Boots thundered in, guns drawn and you hear voices yelling commands.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

You already know who it was.

“Clear the room!” Seungcheol’s voice echoed like thunder. “Get the Missus to safety and lock up any survivors!”

Vernon was quick to reach you, kneeling beside you as his hands tried to gently guide the gun down. “Hey, Missus…” he said quietly, “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to lower the gun. It was as though you feared that if you did, Juyeon would get up.

Then you smelled him.

Wonwoo appears through the smoke of bodies, his eyes immediately locking on yours. The sight of you, his mate – bloodied, shaking and bruised – had him on his knees by your side in the blink of an eye. Sure, you were alive; but you were hurt.

He doesn’t say a word, only pulling you into his arms and holding you like you were the last thing in the world that mattered. You didn’t even realise how cold you were until Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you.

His warmth crashed into you like a wave, and what very little strength you had left was gone as your body collapsed into his. You could feel the way his body shuddered as he held you, his breath ragged against your hair, like he hadn’t been breathing until that moment. His hand held the back of your head, fingers tangling in your messy hair like if he let go – you’d disappear.

“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got you now.”

You dropped the gun.

And finally, your body let go.

Wonwoo carefully knocks on the door, a way to announce his presence before sliding it open. His eyes meet yours and his shoulders slump when you give him a small smile. “Hey…” was all you managed to say before his giant stature envelops you in a tight embrace. The Alpha nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a quiet whine leaving his lips as he takes in your scent. It’s grounding, calming – proof that you’re here, safe, and his.

You melt into his warm embrace, your hands instinctively finding their way to his broad back. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch, his soft whines turning into soft hums of contentment.

“I… I was so scared,” Wonwoo admits, “Scared I couldn’t find you, couldn’t reach you in time… I –”

“Nonu,” you call out softly, one hand moving up to comb through his dark locks, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nods and pulls away, the crease in his brow not fully gone. “Yeah, but… I can’t help to think of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened had we gotten there any later… ___, the doctors said you were practically battered. There’s even still traces of that heat inducer in your blood.”

You shudder at the memory of having the liquid injected into you, Wonwoo tightening his hold on you. “They didn’t touch you did they?”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by touch..?” It was more of a question than a statement, “They didn’t put their dicks in me if that’s what you’re wondering. I was drugged up and a little woozy, but I managed to fight them off until you guys showed up.”

“So, they did touch you,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your template. “I’ll deal with those bastards once I head back.”

He cups your face in his large hands, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “How are you feeling, babydoll? Feeling any better?”

You manage a faint smile at Wonwoo’s concern, your fingers brushing gently over the back of his hand where it cradles your cheek. “I’m feeling better,” you murmur, though the ache behind your ribs and the lingering exhaustion paints a different story. “Just… Just need to pee real quick…”

Wonwoo looks hesitant, but he nods, reluctantly removing his hand from your face.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push yourself up, determined to manage the short walk to the bathroom without assistance. But the moment you stand, a sudden jolt of pain rips through your lower abdomen. You let out a strangled gasp that makes Wonwoo instantly alert. Your knees give out before you can even call out to him.

You clutch your stomach as your body crumples to the cold tile floor.

“___!” Wonwoo is quick to drop to his knees beside you, arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground. “Babydoll, hey, what’s the matter?”

“It hurts,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain twists through you. “Nonu, it… My stomach hurts.”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of you writhing in pain, his arms tightening around your waist as he gently tries to ease you onto his lap. “Fuck, okay. I’m calling the nurse–”

“No, don’t go,” your breath was shallow, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. “Stay. Please.”

“Shit, shit… I’m here, babydoll. I’m not leaving.” Wonwoo’s voice is firm but trembling, his free hand fumbling for the call above him. He presses it repeatedly, urgency written all over his face. “Nurses! Doctors! We need help in here!”

He cradles you closer, rocking you slightly as if trying to soothe you through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs over and over, lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ve got you, babydoll.”

Moments later, the door bursts open and nurses rush in. Wonwoo doesn’t let you go, not until they gently urge him aside to check your vitals and prepare to move you. Even then, his hand never leaves yours.

And when they wheel you away for tests, his gaze follows you – haunted and fierce – already blaming himself for letting you get off the bed in the first place.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Jeon… It seems you had a miscarriage.”

The words hung in the air. The silence that followed felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your chest. Wonwoo’s and your mother wrapped their arms around you in an instant, offering you comfort; but everything felt so… distant. Their voices were muffled and the doctor’s face was blurred as the word ‘miscarriage’ echoed in your mind.

Your hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as though you were trying to hold onto something that was no longer within reach.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s tense body stood behind you as if he were a statue that’s freshly carved from stone. His emotions were frozen in place and his silence was louder than anything else in the room.

Suddenly, the pieces began to fit in place.

Why his mother kept nagging him to return home instead of doing overtime in the office.

Why his father kept urging him to look into a bigger home.

Why his mother and mother-in-law kept visiting you while he was away.

Hell, that even explained why Jihoon was more tame.

You were pregnant.

Pregnant with his child.

Your mom and Wonwoo’s mother tried to comfort you with soft reassurances murmured in your ear, but they couldn’t pierce through the thick glass that’s been erected around you. Your mom’s hand stroked your hair, a gesture that was meant to soothe you. But it only reminded you of the ache, of a loss so sudden that it felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away.

Wonwoo’s shaky voice brought you back to reality, “How… How could this have happened? W-When– How long has she been pregnant? She wasn’t displaying any symptoms or even showing!”

The doctor shifts, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “Mrs Jeon was around… seven weeks into the pregnancy. It’s not uncommon for the symptoms to be minimal, especially in the early stages. We suspect that what Mrs Jeon had experienced was a cryptic pregnancy, where the pregnancy goes undetected or unnoticed.”

You feel the Alpha shift his gaze from the doctor to you. “Seven weeks…” His voice was laced with confusion and guilt as he tries to recount every moment he’s spent with you, searching for signs he might have overlooked. He runs a hand down his face, resting it over his mouth as he mutters, “Fuck… No wonder your scent was sweeter…”

“As for what could’ve caused her miscarriage… We can only assume that it was due to the recent… uneventful incident that the Missus has experienced. The emotional, mental and physical distress coupled with the absence of an Alpha must’ve increased her stress levels to a point where it significantly affected her well-being.”

The doctor lowers his head in condolences and exits the room. Both yours and Wonwoo’s parents left soon after, deciding to give you both some privacy.

“Nonu…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your broken voice seemed to crack something within him and his rigid frame finally moved. Wonwoo sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours. He held them gently, and despite his warm touch, you could feel the tremble in them.

“Babydoll…” You finally forced yourself to look at him, and the sight added another weight to your already heavy heart. His jaw was clenched as his lips were parted slightly, his lips trembling slightly while his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He’s quick to cup your face when you sniffle out his name again, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.

“No, no, no…” he murmurs, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, babydoll… This isn’t your fault, yeah?”

His tender words only made the tears fall harder. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the sound of his voice made it harder for you to hold yourself together. You shook your head, “N-No… Nonu, it was my fault. I-I should’ve been more alert or at least aware as to why I was –”

“Hey, hey…” He interrupts gently, “Don’t do this, babydoll, please. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t know, and even if you did, this is something out of your control.”

His thumb continues to stroke your cheeks, wiping away the endless tears that streamed down. “B-But… I-I should’ve.. hic… told you that I wasn’t feeling… hic… like myself.. M-Maybe i-if you’d known, you could’ve –”

Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours once he pulls away. “Babydoll, please, don’t blame yourself… I… I should’ve been a better husband… I shouldn’t have just left you all alone again after your heat. I shouldn’t have kept my distance from you thinking it’d be a good decision… I should’ve been paying more attention to you, been home with you..”

His confession made your heart ache further. You reached up, your hands trembling as they covered his. “No, Nonu… Please, don’t say that… You've been the perfect husband and –”

“Babydoll, I wasn’t there to realise something was up. Our parents knew it before we did and –”

“We could… We could try again, right..?” Your voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty and carried a weight as though speaking it out loud could shatter what little hope you were clinging to. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, his eyes carrying the same raw, aching vulnerability you felt.

“Oh, babydoll…” he whispers, his lips trembling as he pecks your lips, “Of course we can. We can try as many times as we want, but that’s for when you’re ready – when we’re ready. Right now… Let’s… I… Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded, hands moving from covering his to clutch the fabric of his shirt; as if holding onto him would stop the pieces of your heart from falling apart any further. “We’ll try again,” you echoed, voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “When we’re ready.”

Wonwoo hums, tilting his head to the side so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. His lips moved against yours gently. It was soft, unhurried, and full of unspoken promises. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours once again, and his hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

Snow muffled the world outside the cabin, layering the landscape in a blanket of silence and softness. The fire crackled lowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls and painting flickers of gold across the thick blanket tangled around your legs.

It’s only been days since you left the hospital, body still aching quietly – your ribs would hurt just a little when you breathed in too deeply, you could even feel the stiffness in your limbs when you moved too fast. But here, tucked away in the mountains with no one but Wonwoo, the pressure to be okay all the time faded just like the hush of falling snow.

Wonwoo sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence warm and steady. He’d just come back from gathering more firewood, snow melting in his hair and a few flakes clinging stubbornly to his coat. You watched him shrug it off, mouth watering at the way his muscles ripple under the thick sweater as he crossed the room to tend to the fire.

God, he looks so good you just wanna pounce on him.

He returns to the bed, slipping under the covers with you like he belongs there – like he’d always been there. One of his arms snakes around your waist, drawing you against his side with practiced ease, careful to not press too hard against you.

He smells like warm cedar, a touch of pine, and that deep, grounding Alpha musk that seeps into your senses like a balm. He exhaled softly, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Is it too cold?”

You shake your head, almost purring into him. “Not with you here.”

Wonwoo’s expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. I was worried it’d be… well, something you wouldn’t like. The snow, the isolation…”

“You picked it for a reason,” you whispered back, nuzzling into his chest. “It’s quiet up here. I like that.”

He held you closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. “I needed us somewhere no one could reach. Just for a little while.”

“Because I’m still healing?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be.

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Because I need time with you. Alone. Not shared. Not interrupted. Just… us.”

You hum, closing your eyes and letting yourself be embraced by the most fearsome man of the city. In this moment, where the world was blanketed in snow, where nothing existed but the steady beat of Wonwoo’s heart and the feel of his body against yours, you were safe.

“Nonu?”

Wonwoo looks down, still curling against his side beneath the blanket, hand pausing on your waist. “Yeah, babydoll?”

You hesitated, feeling your pulse thudding against your ribs. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours and the subtle way his scent thickened the longer you laid together in the quiet cabin. Maybe it was the isolation, or the cold outside – or maybe it’s just him.

The sense of safety he gives.

You swallowed, “What… What do you think about knotting me?”

Wonwoo stills, his hand splaying wider on your waist as a means to ground you in place, as though you’d float off if he didn’t. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Are you asking me if I thought about it?” his voice is now laced with some darker, thicker. “Or if I want to?”

Your face burned, and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower, and back. “You know I’ve thought about it, babydoll. Especially that time during your heat, but I had to stop because we were still getting used to each other.”

“What about now?”

His voice drops, “You’re still healing. Not now, okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I feel okay, Nonu. Better. And… I want it. I want you”

His hand tightened slightly at your hip, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you feel the echo of what he was holding back.

“You sure, babydoll?” he asks quietly, “Because once I do that, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t need you. I’m going to be all over you, y’know?”

You reach for your Alpha, fingers curling into his sweater, voice barely steady. “Then let it.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stares at you. And then the alpha in him stirred – quiet and hungry – as he shifts to hover above you, mouth grazing yours. “My feisty Omega can’t help but to be all soft for me now, hmm?” his voice was rough with barely checked restraint and it was enough to have you dripping. His breath ghosts over your lips, his nose brushing yours as his eyes darken. “Always biting back, but the second I touch you like this…”

His hand slides down your thigh, his touch possessive and curls it under your knee, spreading you open just a little more before pulling down the pyjama pants you were wearing.

“...you melt.”

Your breath catches, fingers curling into his sweater as heat coils low in your belly. Wonwoo wasn’t just teasing, he was marveling.

“Oh, babydoll,” he continues, enjoying the way your thighs tremble when his cold fingers trail up the skin of your bare thighs. “I’m going to bury myself in you and let my knot swell so deep that you’ll forget where I end and where you begin.”

“You’ll take good care of me, right, Alpha?”

Wonwoo groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll take good care of you, my sweet Omega.”

He kisses you slowly, soft at first – the deeper, hungrier, like the dam had cracked and he could finally taste what he’d been starving for. His palms slid down your sides, memorising every curve, every shiver. He doesn't rush, deciding to not strip you out of the sweater you were wearing to keep you warm.

Pulling away just enough, Wonwoo slides off his glasses and settles them aside on the nightstand. His eyes, dark and intense, were focused entirely on you. The familiar weight of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine. It was as though without the barrier of his glasses, he could see straight through you.

“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” he murmured, breath brushing against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper, like he couldn’t stop himself. He groaned against your mouth, the soft drag of his lips against yours. His fingers traced the line of your jaw., down your neck and over the curves of your body, like he was committing the shape of your body to memory.

You let out a shaky whimper, hands trembling as you reached for him, tugging him closer. His entire being invades your senses, filling the space between your bodies as his kiss grew more intense, more desperate. You can’t help but respond to his hunger with your own, pulling him closer against your body.

You barely registered the way Wonwoo moved, only the warmth of his body that left yours for a moment. You hear the quiet click of the drawer opening beside the bed. Your voice wavered between surprise and something breathless, eyes widening just a little as your Alpha pulls out a slee black toy from it. It gleamed in the firelight, deceptively elegant. It wasn’t flashy, obviously neither you nor Wonwoo liked flashy. It was plain black, smooth, curved, and obviously meant for one purpose.

"You brought a vibrator on our honeymoon?"

Wonwoo shrugged, “More like Jihoon and Mingyu told me to. They’re… invasive to say the least.”

“How did they even know we’d be doing this?”

Wonwoo gives you a dry, amused look, like you’d just asked why the sun rises. “They’re nosy and overconfident. Honestly, since that night of your heat and when you’d ask to sleep with me, Mingyu said he can smell some kind of budding romance.”

You stared back, “That’s… That’s not a real thing, right?”

He shrugs again, “God knows. Jihoon just enables him. I have a feeling they packed it themselves when I wasn’t looking.”

A pause.

“You don’t check your luggages?”

“They probably hid it under my clothes.”

You snort, “I’m surprised it even made pass customs.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve smuggled through airport security.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Probably not.”

You stare at the vibrator in his hand, “So… What use is this to us and did you at least sanitise it?”

Wonwoo sits back on his heels, the firelight casting him in gold and shadow as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms. “Of course I sanitised it, babydoll. As for what use, I’m sure you have that figured out.”

You let him part your legs slowly, his eyes instantly dropping to your wet cunt. He caresses your thighs, coaxing them wider and when his scent changed, thickening with quiet arousal, your body responded like it knew what was coming.

“I’d consider my knot to be big,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s gonna take more than just my fingers to open you up.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He eases two fingers into your cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips when your breath gets stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. The drag of his knuckles felt cruel, like he wanted you to know exactly how he’d take you apart.

When he pushes in a third finger, you whimper. The stretch burns at first, before it fades into a more consuming ache. Your hips buck instinctively, his hand on your waist kept you pinned down like you were nothing more than a body to be used.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting closer so his lips brushes against your jaw, “You keep clenching like that and I’m going to think you like being stretched out like this.”

His fingers curled again, and you choked on a cry.

“Atta girl,” he praised, smiling against your skin.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, arousal, and something more dangerous. You were trembling underneath him, not just from pleasure but from the oppressive weight of his presence, the way he looked at you like you’re something fragile yet can’t help but want to break you at the same time.

Every curl of Wonwoo’s fingers leaves you breathless, the coil in your lower belly growing tighter. “You’re dripping, babydoll,” he says flatly, drawing his hand back just enough to spread your wet folds with two of his fingers before plunging them back inside. “You’re making a mess and I barely touched you.”

With one final curl of his fingers, your back arches involuntarily as his fingertips press hard against your g-spot over and over. “C’mon, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice filled with arousal. “Cum for me.”

Your body obeys, a loud cry of his name tearing through your throat as your body seizes, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. Your nails dig into his arm, thighs trembling around his wrist, and all you can do is ride it out as he coaxes every last tremble from your body. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathing hard, and sweat sticking to your skin.

Only then does he ease them out, slowly. He lifts his slick covered fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste you as he keeps his eyes on your ruined expression with a dark glint.

“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he mumbles. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before spreading your thighs again. “Gimme one more and I’ll knot you, yeah?”

He turns on the vibrator, the black toy humming to life. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to your slick, pulsing entrance. The moment the curved tip presses inside you, your hips jerked. It zeroed in on that spongy spot deep inside you, making your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

One hand keeps your hips still while the other begins to move the toy inside you. Your breath stutters, back arching as the toy presses up and in, vibrating relentlessly against your gspot. Your legs twitch, thighs trembling as you try to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Wonwoo won’t let you.

He keeps you in place, spread open while he grinds the toy mercilessly against your gspot, your pulsing walls clenching and unclenching around it rhythmically. Slick, wet sounds fill the room, echoing between your moans and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Your knuckles turned white as your hands clutch the sheets, the coil in your lower belly tightening up again.

“Nonu!”

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, voice low and taunting. He pushes the toy deeper and your vision goes black around the edges. A broken sob claws its way out of your throat as the pressure becomes unbearable. “C’mon, babydoll. Show me how greedy this pussy is. I want you soaked for my knot. Wanna feel you gush all over me.”

He twists the vibrator just right, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit and your body convulses around the toy. A loud cry rips from your throat, sharp and raw as your pussy squirts, hips arching off the bed – drenching his wrists, the toy and the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo groans, eyes dark as they lock on the way your body submits to him so beautifully. “Fuck, babydoll” he breathes, tossing the wet vibrator aside. “You’re ready to take me now. Gonna stretch you around my knot just how you’re meant to.”

He doesn’t even bother to wipe his hand, sliding them under your thighs and guiding them around his waist, lowering himself over you. You can feel the heat of his cock, flushed and heavy, grinding his length against your slick folds. “Gonna knot you so good, babydoll. Fill you so full that everyone who smells you knows you’re taken.”

You lick your lips at the weight of his knot that’s already swelling at the base. You lock your legs around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his back pulling him closer.

That was all the permission he needed.

Wonwoo lines himself up, holding back a growl as the blunt head of his cock bumps against your clit. His jaw clenches, holding back a guttural growl as he pushes in, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter shut as he stretches you, your slick walls sucking him in greedily.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, kissing your jaw. “So fucking wet. Pussy feels so warm that I could die happy right now.”

You whimper, back arching as he bottoms out, his knot pressing against your entrance. He rolls his hips experimentally, letting you feel every vein of his cock, the way his cock drags against your soaked, swollen walls.

His head dips to press his mouth against the curve of your jaw, your throat. “Taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees are pressed against your chest, angling your hips just right so he can sink even deeper. His leaking cockhead bullies your sweet spot, making you cry out with each thrust.

“Feel how deep I am, babydoll?” He slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly. You moan at the pressure, nails scratching down his clothed back and Wonwoo starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt. The drag of his cock against your walls sends aftershocks through your twitching body.

Wonwoo groans loudly, biting down on your shoulder – not hard enough to break the skin nor the sweater you wore, but enough to have your wet walls squeeze around him. “Shit, babydoll. Your pussy tightens up when I bite you. You like that, huh? Like it when I mark you up?”

You can’t answer. You’re shaking and gasping, all thoughts wiped out by the way his leaking cockhead grinds into your cervix with every thrust, body starting to bounce from the sheer force.

He presses down on your belly again, palm flat and firm. The pressure makes you clench reflexively, his eyes focus on the way your pretty cunt is stuffed snugly around his dick – entranced with the way your puffy lips coat his thick cock with your sweet cream.

“Nonu,” you whine out, feeling a jolt of electricity run up your spine when his abdomen rubs against your clit. “Please! Want your knot!”

Wonwoo growls, forcing his knot past your rim with one brutal thrust and stretching your pussy wide. You cry out in pleasure and pain, nails digging into the fabric of the sweater that he thinks you’d shred it into pieces. You feel it pop past your entrance and lock inside you, your vision going white.

He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, so addicted to how tight and wet you are around him. He loves how your gummy walls are taking his knot, how the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the cabin. Wonwoo’s thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it hard and fast; grunting in approval when he feels your arousal drip out your stuffed cunt.

“N-Nonu, ‘M gonna cum!” you moan, head thrown back against the pillows as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“I know, babydoll,” he murmurs, “Can feel your pussy milking my cock.”

Your walls flutter wildly against him. His knot throbs, snug and swollen inside you, ready to fill you up. “Cum for me, my Omega,” he groans into your neck, planting wet kisses as he chases his own climax. “Make a mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm slams into you, white, hot and all-consuming. Your entire body convulses underneath him, pussy creaming his dick. Wonwoo curses under his breath, hips jerking as your pulsing walls trigger his own release.

“Take it,” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills his cum deep inside. Ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your womb, and you mewl as your mind wanders back to the first time he filled you up.

Your Alpha stays buried inside you, knot locked tight as he releases your legs, hanging them over his forearms. One hand has a possessive grip on your hip while the other rubs your overstimulated clit in slow, teasing circles with just enough pressure to make you jolt.

He grinds his hips against you, knot fully lodged inside you. It’s said that Alphas cum more than they usually do when knotting their bonded mates, and sure enough, Wonwoo was indeed filling your pussy with load after load of his hot cum. Not that you were complaining though. You happily take every drop he gives you with a blissful smile.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a dim amber. You’re still lying beneath Wonwoo, still stretched wide around his knot, both of you soaked in sweat and slick. You could still feel him twitching inside you, some of his cum slipping past the tight sleeve of your cunt around him.

He releases his hold on your legs so he can bury his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin, teeth nipping over your scent gland. His voice was soft when he praised you, “My babydoll did such a good job at taking my knot.”

His hands slide under your sweater, caressing your body in gentle touches. You both stay like that until his knot deflates. But, your body hasn’t had enough yet. Your hips shifted without thinking, instinctive, needy.

Wonwoo chuckles when he feels it, pulling back to look at you – his eyes dilated and darker than before. “You still want another round, babydoll?”

You bit your lip, squirming just a little as your walls flutter helplessly around his girth. “Well, you’re still hard, Nonu~”

His grin is wolfish, but there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He hums, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his length still nestled inside you. “That’s ‘cause your greedy little pussy won’t let go of me.”

He leans down again, pressing a kiss just below your jaw, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’ll knot you again, babydoll.”

You purr, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Wonwoo hisses, shifting his weight and hooking his forearms beneath your knees. In one swift motion he folds you in half, sinking his cock deeper into your pussy. He kisses you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he pounds your soaked cunt, thick cockhead repeatedly knocking against your cervix so hard it knocks the breath right out of your lungs too. You gasp into his mouth, body starting to tremble from the stimulation.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Pussy still so fucking tight. Look so fucking hot full of my cock.”

You cry out when you feel his knot start to swell inside you again. You can only moan and cry as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole. “Bet you’d take every load I give you, huh? Stuff you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, lips parting in a breathless moan. You feel everything – the stretch of his knot forcing you wider, locking you in place, the way his cock drags along your swollen walls.

“Nonu–” you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Full! Too full–”

“But you can’t help but to want me to fill you again,” he groans, gripping your hips with a bruising grip. He shifts the angle of his thrusts, feeling him in your guts as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. Wonwoo groans when he feels your pussy constrict around him again. “Ohh, fuck, babydoll. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my cock like the needy little Omega that you are?”

You can’t answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are your filthy moans. You wail every time he drives his dick in and out of you, grinding his thick knot right against that spongy spot inside you until you reach another climax.

Your whole body seizes as you cum hard, the air being punched out from your lungs. You gush around your Alpha, liquid splashing between your thighs – soaking his sweater and the sheets beneath you. Wonwoo is mesmerised by the sight of you squirting all over his cock, how your eyes screwed shut while your sweet cries filled the room.

“Fucking hell, babydoll,” he growls, throwing his head back as he feels his own climax approaching. “Squeezing my cock so fucking good.”

The milking compression of your walls around him, clenching and unclenching around his knot, like your body was begging for him to creampie you was what drove him right to the edge. With a loud roar of your name, his whole body goes tense. His fat cock twitches and throbs inside you, flooding your already wrecked cunt with spurts of his hot cum. His knot swells further, making sure to keep your soaked pussy filled to the brim.

You cry out, nails digging into his forearms as you feel droplets of his cum drip down your thighs. Wonwoo groans when he feels your walls flutter around his length, grinding his hips slowly to try and push his cum deeper.

When he releases your legs from the mating press he had you in, you let out a moan of relief. Your muscles are barely able to hold up after being held up in that position for so long. Your thighs fall limp on the bed, trembling, and slick with sweat and a mixture of your bodily fluids.

Wonwoo doesn’t move, his cock still buried inside you as he continues to release more ropes of thick cum, coating your walls. He places his palm flat against your belly again, right over the small swell of where his cum is filling you – where his knot is. Then he presses down on it.

You gasp, your entire body jerking.

Your cunt tightens reflexively, milking his cock for more of his cum, and he groans at the squeeze. You whimper, eyes glassy, and droplets of tears cling to your lashes.

Your body goes limp beneath him as Wonwoo hovers above you, back hunched as he tries to come down from the delicious high he had just experienced. He’s still sheathed inside, cock still pulsing, his cum sloshing inside your pussy that he can already feel it dripping down your thighs.

But, fuck, the way you were tightly holding onto him – his pretty Omega all wet and stretched and stuffed to the brim, it had his instincts just snarling beneath the surface.

“Shit, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and affection, “Knotted you twice and you’re still squeezing me like you want a third.”

You let out a shaky chuckle, looping your arms around his neck. “I might,” you whisper, giving him a dazed smile.

Wonwoo shakes his head, “You’re insatiable.”

When he leans down to pepper kisses to your throat, you whimper out his name. “Shh, I got you, babydoll. Let’s wait til my knot deflates before we do anything else.”

You hum, clinging to him as your legs weakly wrap themselves around his waist, body still trembling from pleasure and emotions.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the surrounding world in white, you and Wonwoo stay tangled together in the heat of the cabin, arms holding each other like you’d never let each other go.

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