"What a wicked game we play, to make me feel this way."
A book of lust and all sinister things. [Requests closed.]
[Note: graphically detailed smut and writing; not suitable for readers below 18]
Warning:smut/angst, jerk yunho, innocent and insecure reader, make up sex, break up, body shaming...etc.
Note:premise inspired from "How I Met Your Mother." I did not know what kind of premise you wanted, so I kept your request as the main plot and structured it along to the storyline of the show as a subplot. I hope you like it.
Word Count:9k
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Typical Friday night. Two pitchers of beer shared between three of you. Except for times when San would want to wallow deep into his miseries; during those moments, you can't really rely on beer to get you drunk. Vodka shots. Exactly. San was the type of guy who was able to hold his alcohol well, other two of you, not so much.
The emerald walls of the bar you and your friends frequented, were tattered and at places the paint was wearing off. Yet, it didn't bother you. McLaren's was the only bar close to you—well, you practically lived in the apartment right above the bar—it spared you the inconvenience you'd face if you were hanging out somewhere else in the city.
You were making the best of your Friday night after work, sharing a drink or two with your friends and trying to forget how stupid teaching gig is; there was nothing to conceal, you were a professor at one of the renowned universities in the city. You liked teaching, after all, it's the most useful way for you to use your degree. Sitting in your regular booth at the bar, drowning your woes with alcohol, and using the restless chatters of others in the bar as your background noise.
