imma build a rocket(z)

2005-er |vi-en-jp| i read & repost

[misted-dream]

BET YOU WANNA BE MINE ﹒⌗﹒🥀﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 재현 + fem!reader

in which . . . the last person you expected to show up in front of your door at midnight is jaehyun—your ex.

content&warnings | MDNI smut, profanity, mentions of dui, infidelity, angst bc exes, toxic themes (jaehyun is a red flag), oral f receiving, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count | 3.2k

⋆.˚ . . . heavily inspired by roses by jaehyun of course

12:01AM

a knock sounds at your apartment door.

your tired feet shuffle slowly through the dimness of your living room, with the warm glow of the kitchen light spilling over.

a shadow bleeds through the gap beneath your door, blocking the hallway light in two different spots.

with the chain still attached, you twist the handle, opening the door only slightly.

you tilt your head, angling yourself to get a view of whoever’s standing on the opposite side.

…

without hesitation, you press your palm to the wooden surface, pushing on the door to shut it. hard.

“wait!” a voice calls from outside.

his voice calls from outside.

and you notice the door, in fact, isn’t shut when it should be by now; a shoe wedging in between the frame.

your body stills for a second, despite the alarms ringing in your head.

“is he here?” he asks, meekly.

for whatever reason, you decide to respond, “no.”

the ‘he’ in question is your current boyfriend, whom the ‘he’ outside your apartment right now knows enough about to render that question needlessly rhetorical. and useless.

you push harder on the door, trapping his foot tighter between the wooden board and its frame.

“can i just speak to you? 5 minutes,” he pleads, “5 minutes is all i need.”

you know him well enough that if you were to say ‘no’ to his bidding here, it’d be easy to assume he’d stay the night in the corridor outside—and then you’ll actually be fucked if your boyfriend saw him in that state tomorrow morning.

you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“move your goddamn foot.”

he does what you say; a part of him scared that you’re just gonna shut the door on him, but relief comes in the form of you standing there, the door swung open, and you looking straight at him.

“speak.”

he licks his bottom lip, glossing over it lightly. the bright lights overhead highlights his cheekbones, sculpting his face like a statue.

“yn…”

“jaehyun.”

this is the first time—first time in 7 months that you spoke his name aloud and not cursed him in the same breath.

he staggers a step behind him, and you instinctively reach out. upon realisation, you pull your arm back.

jaehyun clamps his eyes shut, his nose slightly scrunching up as if he’s recalling something particularly difficult to say. “i really—”

“are you drunk?” the sharpness in your voice shoots him awake with his eyes opened.

“no,” he replies firmly and adds a shake with his head, “no.”

you sigh. “how did you get here?”

“i have a car.”

“you fucking drove—are you insane?” despite every conscious effort to not get close to him, you find yourself tugging on his arm with your hand, pulling him inside before he has a chance to collapse on the floor. jaehyun shows absolutely zero signs of resistance to this.

the door slams shut behind you two.

“sit down,” you utter, more like a command than anything. “i’ll get you some water.”

jaehyun is drunk; there’s no denying it. but not drunk enough to not know how to navigate your apartment even in the dark. perhaps, he has your history to thank for that.

he sinks down into your couch with you shortly appearing next to him with a mug in your hands that you cup his fingers over.

“thanks,” he mutters softly, taking a sip of water.

“don’t think your 5 minutes doesn’t still stand,” you watch him pointedly. a sudden impatience ringing in his bones, jolting his posture upright.

jaehyun sets the mug down on the coffee table. eyes looking up at you as you stand over him.

he breathes out deeply.

he drops his gaze to the mug for a moment, looking as though he’s contemplating his words carefully. the slight hum of your fridge being the only thing you can hear, and suddenly it’s a thousand times louder than usual.

meeting your eyes again, he leans forward.

with every beat of silence that comes, a hammering picks up in your chest.

his lips part, and the words that follow fall heavily. "i think about you."

air is knocked out of your lungs momentarily. you feel your shoulders drop.

"i miss you," jaehyun's voice is like a needle. feeble, almost undetectable, and aiming straight for your heart.

the stabbing pain that you felt more than half a year ago when you and jaehyun broke up returns. your heart dropping straight to your stomach, sinking and stirring around in the acid.

you can only scoff.

"stop fucking around," your tone harsh and your voice coarse. you fold your arms across your chest, regarding him with slight contempt in your eyes.

"i'm not," jaehyun counters, "yn—"

"no," you sternly shut him down. "this isn't fair, you know it isn't fair."

you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out, a result of the long suppressed, built up anger and resentment you held towards your ex.

“you were the one who broke up with me, jaehyun.”

jaehyun only looks at your face. his brows softened, knitting together slightly as he studies the expression on it.

“i know,” he offers in the way of a comfort. arms reaching out to you and holding your wrists in his hands.

if it wasn’t for the overtly complex prism of emotions inside of you right now, there’d be more aversion to his touch. but his skin on yours feels so familiar. it feels right. so much so that you allow yourself to be pulled closer to him sitting there.

maybe less allow, and more just letting your body move to whatever stimulus in a catatonic state.

you’re standing in between his knees, looking down at him, and the urge to fall right back into your once favourite habits emerges from the pit of your stomach. but your mind is clear enough to keep to your discipline.

jaehyun picks one of your hands up to his lips. gently, he kisses the back of it; a gesture way too intimate but you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

“i fucked up,” his voice is low and steady as he brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “i know i did, and i shouldn’t have.”

he runs his other hand up your leg, soft like a feather caressing you. and suddenly, it’s like you’re brought back to reality—the fact that this is actually happening and you’re allowing it to.

“stop,” you pull your hand away from his grip, “it’s too late for apologies, jaehyun.”

when you were together, every time his name fell from your lips, it sounded sheepish, like he’s some high school crush that you’re afraid to utter the name of. and this time, it’s none different.

he settles his hand on top of your hips. “i’m sorry,” he voices completely disregarding what you just said.

you shake your head, “that doesn’t mean anything.” there was a time where you would’ve given anything to hear this from him. except now, as bitterness has steadily been building in you, you’d much rather have him beg and plead for your forgiveness instead.

“i miss you,” he says again. his glassy eyes telling of his desperation, which is only amplified by him pulling your waist closer.

you put your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself away as much as you can. “i have a boyfriend,” you throw out weakly, as if even you don’t believe it to be a strong enough argument against the case that is jung jaehyun.

“and i never should’ve let you get that chance. to be with him.”

all the anger and resentment you still felt towards jaehyun just a few moments ago seems to have dissipated. you relax your arms, your body moving in closer to his.

your eyelids flutter over jaehyun’s features. he’s always been handsome, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. under you, shadows casted on his face from your body, eyes dark with anticipation.

you fix your eyes on his, “i can’t do this to him.”

if you had known jaehyun would be coming, you wouldn’t have worn this particular pair of shorts. “i don’t care about him,” he says rubbing the bare back of your thigh with his palm.“this is about you. us.” jaehyun pulls your legs up onto the couch, sitting you on top of his knees.

his eyes glaze over you like honey, and memories of the two of you fill his mind. you have never been more beautiful than right now.

the tip of his thumb grazes the side of your cheeks, pushing your hair back. “tell me you don’t miss me, and i’ll leave.”

you stay in silence, completely enchanted with just a look from him that close to you.

“i thought so,” jaehyun admits lowly, like a whisper.

you can’t pinpoint where in the brief encounter tonight that jaehyun took control over the situation, but the thing is that he is certainly holding the reins.

he presses his lips on yours, gently at first, as if already savouring this moment for reminiscing later. as he feels you kissing him back, he pushes in deeper.

his hands slide your hips further down his lap. lips still interlocked, he kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his last meal.

he hums, mumbling against your lips, “i missed you so fucking much,” the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, “god.”

you catch a faint scent of his cologne, the one you bought for him ages ago.

“i need to taste you,” he pulls away from your mouth shortly, mumbling the words, “will you let me?” into you.

you peel yourself off of him, catching your breath and nodding. and if that wasn’t enough, you breathe out a shaky “yes.”

jaehyun picks your body up in his arms, laying you down on the couch with your head on top of the rest. you watch him hook his fingers into your waistband and pull your shorts down, an eagerness to his pace.

he looks up at your face through your legs, waiting for confirmation of any kind before he similarly pulls your panties down.

you give him a subtle nod, and the next second, your cunt is bare and exposed to him. instinctively, your knees press together, clamming your thighs shut.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, palms spreading your legs open for him again. “fuck,” he bites down on his lip, “i missed this pretty pussy.”

helplessly, you feel the heat underneath your skin bloom in your cheeks.

jaehyun runs the tip of his finger up your slit, letting out hums of satisfaction as he does so. you feel your back arch slightly just at the littlest of movements from him. you swear you catch a smirk from him before he starts sucking on your clit.

his tongue works up and down your cunt, covering it in a mixture of your own wetness and his spit. he moans against you, “i missed how you taste.”

your hands find their way into jaehyun’s hair, gripping tightly and trying to resist the urge to push him deeper into your cunt.

he laps his tongue over and over your clit, a finger dragging up and down your folds. he hums, “do you still like it like this, baby?” he pushes the tip of his finger inside of you, easing his way in from the slickness.

slowly, he drags his finger in and out of your cunt, swirling circles with his tongue on your clit at the same time. gently, he places his other palm over your lower abdomen, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

you can’t help your legs from squirming under him.

“oh, you do, don’t you?” his voice undoubtedly laced with an edge of cockiness. brash from the fact that he's convinced he still knows your body in ways that no one else does, not even your current boyfriend.

but you'd rather die than ever even consider affirming that.

you bite down hard on your bottom lip, keeping the whines you so desperately want to release inside.

jaehyun keeps lapping his tongue over your cunt tirelessly, pumping his finger smoothly into you. then, without warning, adding another digit, and another.

despite your best efforts, a small cry escapes you. nails digging deep into jaehyun’s shoulders as you feel yourself stretched out on his fingers.

“fuck, jae,” you feel him purr at your nickname for him

“yes, baby?”

you feel the tightening in your stomach, your legs threatening to squeeze shut. “i’m close,” you faintly manage in between soft whimpers.

“do it,” jaehyun murmurs, his voice muffled against you, “i need to see you cum again.” his fingers quicken their pace, “please. cum on my face, baby.”

you fight the urge to not give him what he wants, but truly, he’s too good at making you feel good. his palm presses a little harder on your stomach, tipping you that little bit over the edge as the pressure releases on his fingers. a blinding wave of dopamine flashes across your eyes, your walls clenched tightly around his fingers so much so that jaehyun struggles to move his hand.

jaehyun mutters as he watches you; eyes shut tight, back arched, and hands holding his face in place as you ride your orgasm out on him.

“mhm, that’s it baby,” he mumbles as you slowly come down from your high. “good girl,” he smirks before pressing a final kiss on your clit.

he crawls over your body, caging you inside his arms with his hands on either side of your shoulders.

your eyelids feel heavy, drooping low as you watch jaehyun push your hair away from your face. “you’re still the prettiest when you cum,” he smiles cheekily.

you barely manage to breathe out a breathy, “shut up,” causing him to chuckle over you.

“don’t believe me?”

jaehyun takes one of your wrists, pulling your hand down to palm the front of his jeans.

“you don’t even have to do anything—that’s how fucking hard you make me.”

you look down at your hand cupping over his bulge. then, back up into his eyes, fingers unbuttoning the top of his jeans. “what are you gonna do about it then?”

jaehyun laughs an unamused laugh, and you know too well what that means.

“baby, baby,” he gently shakes his head. “you’re going to regret saying that.” he unzips the zipper, pulling his boxers down until his cock springs up free from its confines.

the tip of it swelling red, precum leaking little by little at a time.

you feel your body tremble at the sight of his dick, even after all this time. the first time you had sex with jaehyun, you couldn’t walk straight the next morning.

he wraps his hand around his shaft, pointing its head directly at your cunt. slowly, he spreads his precum all over your slit—still sensitive from your orgasm. he drags his tip over your entrance, teasing you and enjoying every second of it.

your body writhes at this fleeting touch, the need to be filled up with his dick chipping away at your dignity.

“you want this cock, baby?” jaehyun brushes your cheek with his thumb, like he’s wiping away tears. “i’ll give it to you.”

he steadies himself with his palms firmly planted on the armrest.

then, in one swift motion, he thrusts his hips into you, the entirety of his length disappearing inside you. the sudden shock of it making you scream out.

"what the fuck?" you curse him with your head thrown back.

jaehyun only smirks before pounding into you again, harder this time, eliciting a groan of his own. "i missed how good you feel, fuck."

your fingers attempt to grapple onto anything within reach, but come up short. one of your arms swing itself over jaehyun's neck, drawing your bodies closer as he thrusts again.

the sheer size of him inside you makes you feel like you're being split open. you moan out his name, his hips bucking inside of you as a response.

"i forgot how well you take my dick," his arm buckles slightly under his weight, "isn't that right, baby?" jaehyun begins to build a rhythm with his thrusts, pumping deep inside you every time.

he leans down, connecting your lips together softly, "you're made for me."

his thrusts grows harder, ramming himself into you with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your womb every time. you're sure that it will probably bruise by tomorrow.

the filthy noise of his skin slapping onto yours echo in your ears, mixing in with his gravelly moans. "he can't fuck you like this, can he?" jaehyun spits.

your hand goes up to cover your own mouth, not wanting to let the almost pornographic noises out of you. this only causes jaehyun to pull it away, pinning your wrist to the couch.

"oh, i know, baby. he can't fuck you like i do."

it doesn't take much before you can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. so close, it's practically within reach.

"jaehyun..." you moan weakly.

"you're gonna cum again for me, huh?" he hisses, "how long has it been since he's fucked you properly? cumming twice for me first time i see you again?"

all you can focus on is your incoming orgasm. back arching into his chest, your hand struggling to break free from his hold.

"please," you plead, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"you want me to rub your clit, don't you?" jaehyun mutters in between hitches in his breath.

you nod, your body verging on begging him for it.

a knowing smirk plays on his lips. "tell me you're mine."

you let out a whine, frustrated that you can't free your hand to do it yourself.

"do it," he orders, "you want to cum? say you're mine."

"fuck," you pant, struggling to keep a steady breath. your mind hazy with overwhelming carnal pleasure, "fuck, i'm fucking yours. i'm yours."

"now, how hard was that?" jaehyun grins before snaking a hand down to rub circles on your sensitive nub.

within seconds, you feel your orgasm unravel itself on jaehyun's dick, walls closing in tight around him.

feeling you tightening around his cock, jaehyun buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand holds onto his back, nails sinking into the muscle across his shoulder blades. you hear his muffled moans into your skin as he cums, releasing his load inside you and filling you up full with his cum.

curses slip past his lips as the two of you catch your breath, jaehyun still stuffed inside you.

the ringing from your orgasm begins to quiet down, and you give jaehyun a couple of taps on the shoulder. gently, he pulls himself out, and the sudden absence leaves your body aching for it again.

his body collapses next to you on the couch.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath.

"that was fucking stupid," you confess out loud, now that your head isn't clouded by pure animal instinct.

to your surprise, jaehyun agrees. "yeah," his chest rising and falling rapidly.

he shifts his weight onto his elbow, propping himself up. "but what are we if not stupid?" jaehyun leans in, pecking your lips quickly and then doing it again. a stupid, stupid grin on his face that you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss.

[cbeargyu]

only the petals remain

summary: you wake up in a hospital after a tragic accident, your body broken and your soul lonelier than ever. then you meet jaehyun—the boy with a fragile heart and the only one who can see the flower blooming on your wrist, the sacred mark said to reveal your soulmate. with each tender moment you share, a new petal appears, drawing you both closer to a love written in fate. but as the flower nears its final bloom, so does time. now, only one petal remains—and he’s no longer here to see it.

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, romance, soulmate au, hospital au, slow burn, tragedy, emotional healing, psychological drama.

warnings: character death, grief, depression, medical trauma, chronic illness, disability recovery, emotional dependency, survivor’s guilt, strong language, heavy emotional themes, vivid hospital scenes, mentions of suicide ideation (implied), terminal illness, unresolved trauma, soulmate mark (body symbolism), tragic ending.

⚠ this is not proofread so pls ignore any typos or mistakes ily <3

wc: 18,4k

notes: hi babiesss!!🩷 i was feeling like writing something about jaehyun but my brain was literally fried from doing too much lately lmaoo 😭😭 then i remembered i had this old draft on my wattpad acc, i had only written up to the part where they first meet and never finished it so it just sat there abandoned in my drafts 😭 but i was like... okay it’s time. y’all know how i get carried away with ideas and end up writing wayyyy too much 😭 and still i feel like i didn’t write enough?? like i wanted to add even more scenes 😭😭 but i really hope u enjoy it and maybe cry a little like i did while writing 🥹🫶

darkness.

it's all you know when it begins. not the kind that feels peaceful or quiet, but the kind that presses against your skin, dense and suffocating, as if the world itself has collapsed in on you. there’s no pain. not yet. only the weightless sense of floating somewhere between existence and oblivion.

then a light. faint at first—like a single star flickering at the edge of a black sky. it pulses. and with it comes a voice, not male nor female, not loud but impossibly clear, resonating inside your head like it’s always been there.

"you can’t die yet."

you want to ask why. you want to scream that you're tired, that your bones feel like they've been shattered into dust, that you don't even remember who you are anymore. but your voice doesn’t work here.

"you left something unfinished. someone waits for you. your soulmate. the one your soul is tied to... you must go back."

a soft breeze, warm like a memory, brushes your skin, and as it does, something burns—your left wrist. you look down and see it: a tiny ink mark blooming into a single flower in the center of your skin. delicate, soft red like blood. no petals. just the center. incomplete.

"this will guide you," the voice whispers. "only you can see it. every time you are near them, the flower will begin to bloom. a petal for every step closer."

and then, silence.

you wake up to screaming.

your body jolts, restrained by thick straps of pain and heavy sedation. your lungs forget how to breathe. you're surrounded by flashing lights, the cold sting of needles in your veins, the rush of white coats and beeping monitors. and amidst it all, two familiar voices—your parents—crying your name.

they’re holding your hand, sobbing uncontrollably, but the moment is ripped away as the doctors push them back, their voices drowned in a sea of urgency.

“bp rising—get more oxygen in. prepare for transfusion—”

“she’s conscious. vitals climbing—get neurology—”

you don’t understand any of it. your body aches like it's been set on fire. broken. barely whole. you try to move, but your limbs betray you.

and then everything fades to black again.

a week later

you've barely moved from your hospital bed. every inch of you is wrapped, stitched, bruised beyond recognition. machines breathe for you at night. your bones are held together by metal rods and quiet prayers. you’ve heard nothing about the crash, nothing about the others. your parents avoid your eyes. the nurses change the subject. and you're not allowed to leave the room, not even to ask.

but you know. deep down. you know.

they’re gone.

jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin.

gone.

their laughter still echoes in the hollow parts of your memory—the roar of the engine, the way the wind slapped against your face as you screamed into the night, drunk on champagne and invincibility. jongin’s dare. your cruel smirk. the wall. the impact.

the regret swells in your chest every time you close your eyes.

three weeks later

your body is still too weak to walk. a kind nurse, seoyun, wheels you out into the hospital garden to get fresh air. she talks as if you're old friends, spilling stories about her latest dating failures while she trims dead leaves from the bushes.

you nod politely, say nothing. you don’t care. not really. the world feels dulled, colors muted, sounds distant. you drift in and out of her words until something catches your eye—your wrist.

the flower.

still there. unchanged. no one else sees it. seoyun doesn’t even glance at it as she brushes your hand. it’s small, a red spider lily, delicate and eerie, like it's been drawn with threads of fate itself. only the core is visible. no petals. lifeless.

you stare at it for a long time.

and then—laughter.

bright, clean, almost melodic.

your head snaps toward the sound before you realize why. across the garden, near one of the marble benches, a boy sits in the sun. blonde hair, grown out and soft, glowing under the light. he’s laughing at something another patient says, hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort. an older nurse leans beside him, amused.

he doesn't notice you.

your chest tightens. not in recognition, not in love—just... intrigue. something unspoken. your fingers twitch over your lap as your eyes linger on the stranger.

you can't look away.

you tell yourself it’s nothing.

just a stranger with a pretty smile. the kind of face that lingers in the memory a little longer than it should. but you don’t think about him that night, or the next day. not really. your world still revolves around recovery, the dull ache of broken bones, the tightness in your chest every time you breathe. the nights are worse—quiet, haunted. the silence presses on your ears, makes you wish for someone to talk to, someone to scream at, someone to ask why you’re still alive when they’re not.

but then, he appears again.

not by design. not because you’re looking for him.

they’re wheeling you into radiology for your scheduled scans, your body limp in the chair, head lolling slightly to the side as you try not to vomit from the motion, and there he is—jaehyun—standing at the nurses’ station like he belongs there, laughing with one of the interns. he’s wearing hospital clothes, like you, though his are looser, cleaner, almost lived-in. he gestures animatedly with his hands, a plastic cup of apple juice in one, and his laugh rises above the quiet buzz of the hallway like a song you don’t know but somehow remember.

he doesn’t look at you.

not then.

and yet something stirs in your chest again. not a feeling, not exactly. just... that itch. like the edge of a memory. something that wants to pull you forward.

you don’t ask seoyun about him that day. you think about it. the words hover at the edge of your tongue as she helps adjust your blankets once you’re back in bed. she hums as she works, cheerful as ever, a melody of someone too used to grief to let it show. but your throat tightens before the question can form. you stay silent.

and the next day, he’s there again.

this time, in the cafeteria. you’re being pushed past the open double doors on your way to physical therapy, a session you’ve been dreading since the moment they mentioned it. your legs still feel foreign. your arms tremble even holding a spoon. but the moment you pass that room, you hear him.

his voice. lower than expected. smooth, gentle. he's reading something out loud—an article? a joke?—to one of the older patients, and there’s laughter again, warm and full and effortless. the kind of laughter that wraps around your spine and squeezes.

you can’t explain it.

it’s not a crush. not an attraction. not even curiosity, not yet.

just... something about him refuses to let you go.

it happens enough times that even seoyun notices the way your eyes drift. after one long session of breathing exercises and tendon stretching that leaves your body in sweat and tremors, she wheels you back into your room and raises an eyebrow when you glance over your shoulder for just a second too long.

“you’ve seen jaehyun again, huh?” she says it so casually, like you’re talking about the weather. her tone doesn’t tease, but there’s something behind it—fondness, maybe.

the name sits strangely on your tongue. “jaehyun?”

she hums, pushing the brake on the chair before checking the IV bag hanging at your side. “jung jaehyun. he’s been here a while. longer than most. he’s... hard to miss.”

you say nothing. you don’t have to. your silence is enough of a question.

seoyun softens, her expression shifting to something quieter. she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and lowers her voice, as if afraid the walls will hear her. “he has a condition. congenital. his heart’s smaller than it should be. underdeveloped. it’s rare. not many make it past childhood.” she sighs, her gaze distant. “but jaehyun… he keeps surprising everyone.”

you look down at your lap, at the slight tremor in your hands. your flower remains the same. one red center. no petals. dormant.

“so he lives here?” you ask, surprised by the way your voice cracks.

“pretty much. his body isn’t strong enough to leave for long. he stays between treatments, surgeries, check-ups. sometimes he goes home for a few days, but he always ends up back here.” she shrugs, as if that’s just how life is. “he makes it bearable though. the nurses love him. the other patients do too. he’s… special.”

you don’t ask what that means. you’re not sure you want to know.

but from that day on, you start seeing him more.

in the hallways, on the elevators, sitting by the window in the waiting room where the morning light touches his hair like gold. sometimes he’s reading. sometimes talking to someone. once, he’s sketching something in a notebook, pencil smudging the edge of his palm. you don’t speak. neither does he. but your eyes meet once—just briefly—and he smiles.

not like he knows you. not like he wants to.

just... politely.

your heart does something strange then. not racing. not skipping.

just... noticing.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t bloom. not yet. but that center glows warmer under the sun, like it’s waking up.

and you begin to wonder.

not just about him.

but about what it means to have a second chance. about why you’re still breathing, even when everything hurts. about whether the universe really gave you another shot to find something—someone—that could make you feel alive again.

because if that’s true… maybe you already know where to start looking.

the sun is warm that morning. too warm for autumn, really. it spills over the garden like melted honey, soaking into your skin as seoyun wheels you along the gravel path, humming under her breath like always. she talks about the morning shift—short-staffed, as usual—and how one of the doctors mixed up two prescriptions yesterday but caught it just in time.

you’re only half listening.

your eyes scan the garden lazily, not looking for him exactly, but half-hoping, half-dreading you might see him again. and you do—jaehyun—sitting beneath the sycamore tree in the far corner, a sketchbook balanced on his lap, pencil in hand, head bent in concentration. his blond hair glows pale in the sunlight, loose strands catching on the breeze, and he looks so calm, so untouchable, you almost tell seoyun to turn you around.

but then she stops suddenly.

“shit,” she mutters, glancing at her phone. “i need to run to the reception—paperwork emergency. can you wait here for a few minutes?”

before you can answer, she turns toward jaehyun, waving. “hey, jaehyun! could you sit with her for a bit? i won’t be long.”

you freeze.

he looks up. his eyes meet yours. warm, honey brown. his face is unreadable at first, then softens into something polite.

“sure,” he says, closing his sketchbook gently. “no problem.”

your stomach knots. you want to protest. say no, say i’m fine, say i don’t need a babysitter. but by the time you open your mouth, he’s already beside you, dropping gracefully into the chair next to yours like he’s done this a hundred times.

“hi,” he says simply, voice low, smooth, like velvet over steel. “i’ve heard about you.”

you arch a brow. “not sure if that’s comforting.”

his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “the girl from the accident, right? seoyun and the nurses talk about you sometimes. they were really worried.”

you look away, the mention of it scraping something raw inside your chest. “figures.”

he doesn’t press. doesn’t pry. just sits there, watching the light filter through the branches above. the silence stretches between you, not heavy, just unfamiliar.

you glance sideways at him.

his features are sharp but softened by the gentle curve of his mouth, the kindness in his eyes. there’s something steady about him, grounded. like he’s used to sitting beside people who’ve lost things.

“you live here or something?” you ask, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

he chuckles, not offended. “pretty much. i’ve got a suite on the fifth floor. ocean view and everything.”

you snort before you can stop yourself. “must be nice.”

he shrugs. “could do without the needles, though.”

you glance down at your wrist, instinctive now. the flower stares back at you—still small, still centered—and for a moment, you wonder what he would say if he could see it too. if he could feel the way your skin just prickled beneath the scarred edge of your cast. the burn is sudden, like a flicker of heat just beneath the surface, and then—

a petal blooms.

right there, delicate and perfect, curling outward from the center. red as blood.

your breath catches.

“are you okay?” jaehyun’s voice is gentle, curious.

you curl your hand into a fist, hide the wrist against your thigh, heart thudding loud enough to drown out the birds in the trees. “fine,” you lie.

he watches you for a moment longer, like he knows you're hiding something. but again—he doesn’t push.

instead, he leans back in the chair, tilting his face toward the sun. “you don’t talk much,” he says after a while.

“neither do you.”

he laughs quietly. “fair enough.”

more silence. it should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. not really. the tension in your shoulders slowly uncoils, like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks and only just now remembered how to exhale.

“so what’s your deal?” you ask finally. “you’re always... around. talking to people. laughing like you’re not in a hospital.”

his lips press together, amused. “i figure if i’m stuck here, might as well make it bearable. besides,” he glances at you, eyes glinting with quiet mischief, “i like people.”

“must be nice.”

he studies you for a second. “you don’t?”

you shrug, gaze flicking out over the flowers blooming beside the bench. “i used to. or maybe i just used people. kind of hard to tell the difference when you grow up getting everything handed to you.”

his voice softens. “money?”

“money. attention. friends with too many secrets and not enough shame.” you clench your jaw. “it didn’t matter how many parties i threw or how expensive my clothes were. i was just... bored. all the time. like something was missing and i couldn’t figure out what.”

he doesn’t judge. doesn’t even blink.

just nods, thoughtful.

“maybe something was.”

you look at him. “you believe in that stuff?”

his head tilts slightly. “you don’t?”

“i’m not sure i believe in anything.”

he smiles again, but this one’s different—smaller, quieter. sad.

“sometimes,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “the universe gives you signs. tiny ones. you just have to be paying attention.”

you think about the flower.

about the warmth still pulsing in your wrist like a heartbeat.

about how his presence doesn’t feel like a coincidence.

“what if you miss the sign?” you ask.

jaehyun’s gaze doesn’t leave yours.

“then i think,” he says slowly, “it finds another way to reach you.”

seoyun returns a minute later, flustered and apologetic, thanking jaehyun as he stands. he brushes off the gratitude with a gentle smile and a quick nod to you.

“see you around,” he says.

and for the first time in weeks, you hear yourself say it back.

“yeah. see you.”

he finds you again a few days later, sketchbook in hand, the sun already slipping into its golden descent over the garden. you’re sitting near the fountain this time, legs covered in a thin hospital blanket, watching koi fish ripple through the still water. you don’t notice him until his shadow spills over yours, soft and hesitant.

“hey,” he says, voice calm as always. “mind if i join you?”

you nod, almost before you realize it.

he sits close but not too close, resting the sketchbook on his knees, fingers absently playing with the elastic band around it. for a while, neither of you says anything. the breeze rustles the leaves, the fountain babbles on. then he speaks, eyes still on the pond.

“you said you don’t believe in anything,” he murmurs, like picking up a thread you forgot you left behind. “but you looked at that flower on your wrist like it meant something.”

your breath catches, but you don’t answer.

instead, you glance down at the mark. the red petal still curves around the center like a whisper of fate. it hasn't changed since that day, but it feels alive. pulsing. waiting.

he shifts beside you, the sketchbook now open on his lap. you watch as he flips through pages carefully, one after another, until he lands on one near the middle.

he turns it toward you.

“i wanted to show you these.”

your breath stutters.

each page is a world—soft pencil strokes bringing landscapes to life, delicate portraits of nurses, elderly patients, even seoyun caught mid-laughter beneath the pergola. the emotion he captures is almost impossible. you see not just faces and places, but moments—tiny slivers of something real that feel more tangible than your own memories.

“you drew all of these?”

“yeah,” he says, sheepish. “it keeps me sane.”

you don’t speak for a long time, your eyes traveling over every line, every smudge of graphite. you don’t want to look away. your fingers hover near the page, almost afraid to touch.

“they’re beautiful,” you whisper. “you’re... talented doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

he smiles softly. “thanks.”

when you finally meet his eyes, you see it there again—that quiet transparency in him, the unflinching way he sees the world and somehow still manages to draw light from it.

you want to ask how he does it. how he keeps from drowning.

but you’re not ready yet.

that night, back in your hospital room, everything shatters.

your parents are sitting at your bedside. your mother’s fingers are laced together so tightly her knuckles have turned white. your father stares at the floor, jaw clenched.

you feel it before they say anything.

“sweetheart,” your mother starts, her voice cracking at the edges, “we didn’t want to overwhelm you before, but... it’s time.”

your body tenses.

you know what’s coming.

“jongin... seulgi... minkyung... taemin...” she swallows. “none of them made it. jongin and seulgi died at the crash. minkyung passed in the ambulance. taemin... he held on a bit longer, but...”

the rest is a blur.

a rush of static through your ears, like the world folded in on itself.

you don’t remember crying. just the way your chest collapsed. like a building gutted from the inside.

your father wraps his arms around you when your sobs finally come. your mother presses kisses to your hair like she used to when you were a child, whispering things that don’t reach you. none of it helps.

nothing will.

the next morning, a psychiatrist is assigned to you. dr. nam. soft-spoken, patient. she says the trauma is complex, that grief moves in waves, that healing won’t be linear. she’s not wrong, but you don’t believe her yet.

you stop asking seoyun to wheel you out into the garden. when she offers, you shake your head. “not today,” you say, every time.

the sunlight feels too bright.

the air, too sharp.

even breathing hurts.

but then—

one quiet afternoon, there’s a knock at your door. not seoyun. not your parents.

jaehyun steps inside, sketchbook in hand.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just walks over and sits in the chair beside your bed. you notice his hands are trembling a little, like this matters to him more than he wants you to know.

he opens the sketchbook slowly and turns it around.

you freeze.

it’s you.

you, sitting in your wheelchair beneath the sycamore tree, head tilted toward the sky, blanket draped over your legs, the sunlight caught in your hair. the expression on your face is calm, distant, unknowable. and somehow—he captured the heaviness in your shoulders, the guarded way you hold your hands, the flicker of sadness in your eyes.

you reach for it without thinking, fingertips ghosting over the paper like it might dissolve.

“you drew this?” you ask, barely breathing.

he nods once.

“why?”

he shrugs, gaze fixed on you now, open and bare.

“you looked like someone who needed to see herself from the outside.”

your throat tightens. your eyes sting.

you look back down at the drawing, tracing the lines of your own face like they belong to someone else. something in your chest shifts, aches. no one has ever seen you like this. not even you.

when you look back at him, tears blur your vision.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything.”

but you want to.

you want to say thank you. you want to say how did you know? you want to say please don’t leave yet.

and maybe—deep down—you want to say stay with me.

he smiles then, warm and quiet, and something in your soul stirs again.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t burn this time.

but it pulses, faint and certain, as if it's reminding you—

you’re not alone anymore.

the silence between you stretches, and then breaks—quietly, painfully—into the sound of your own sobbing.

you clutch the drawing to your chest, fingers trembling over the soft paper edges, as if it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. your body curls slightly over the sketch, like you could shield it—or maybe, like it could shield you.

you don’t fight the tears. they come too fast, too hard. hot streaks down your cheeks, choking sobs that rattle your healing ribs. the weight of everything—your loss, your guilt, the ache in your bones, the terrifying pull of fate burning into your skin—crashes into you all at once.

your left wrist burns. you don’t need to look. you know.

the flower has grown.

but you pretend it hasn’t. pretend it’s just the drawing that’s breaking you like this.

jaehyun doesn’t say anything. he watches you with wide, soft eyes that seem to see everything and judge nothing. then, slowly, he stands from the chair and crosses the small space between you. he moves gently, like approaching a frightened animal, like one wrong step might send you spiraling further.

he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving enough space that you can still breathe. his hand reaches out—hesitating for a second—and then rests on your head. his fingers move through your hair with an impossible tenderness, like he’s afraid of hurting you more than you already are.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “you’re okay.”

his voice is warm honey, settling deep in your chest.

his hand slides down, brushing your temple, and then cups your cheek. his thumb catches a tear and wipes it away.

you shiver at the touch.

not because it’s cold.

because it feels like home.

no one’s touched you like this since the crash.

no one’s held you like this without needing something in return.

you blink up at him, still crying, and his expression doesn’t waver. calm. steady. like he’s telling you through that look that you don’t have to hide anymore. not from him.

you don’t say a word.

but in that moment, you let yourself fall just a little into him.

not all the way. not yet.

but enough.

the days stretch.

therapy begins, slowly, painfully. your body is stiff, unfamiliar. walking is like learning from scratch—muscles weak, balance fragile. you hate the mirror now. you hate the bruises, the scars, the way your reflection no longer feels like your own.

but seoyun is there. jaehyun is there. dr. nam too, reminding you gently that you don’t have to climb the mountain in a day.

sometimes, when they wheel you into the physical therapy room, you catch glimpses of jaehyun in the hallway, talking to the nurses, carrying that same sketchbook under his arm. he always smiles when he sees you. not pitying. not forced.

real.

when you return to your room, you sometimes find little sketches tucked under your water bottle, or between the pages of a book seoyun brought for you. tiny gifts—your hands resting on your lap, the view from your window, the curve of your smile when you weren’t paying attention.

he draws you in moments you didn’t even notice you were alive.

and that changes something.

one morning, after a particularly exhausting session, you sit on the edge of your hospital bed, sweat clinging to your back, heart heavy. seoyun opens the door and steps aside.

“you have a visitor,” she says.

it’s him.

jaehyun.

sketchbook in one hand. a thermos in the other.

he walks in like he’s always belonged there.

“thought you could use something warm,” he says, lifting the thermos. “it’s barley tea. not coffee, but... it helps.”

you take it, brushing his fingers by accident. he lingers a moment before pulling back.

you sip, and the warmth sinks into you deeper than expected.

“thank you,” you murmur.

he nods.

and doesn’t leave.

you don’t know how long he stays, but it feels like the rest of the world stops moving outside your room. jaehyun doesn’t talk much—he simply sits with you. the warmth of his hand lingers long after he takes it back. his eyes don’t stray. he watches you like he’s trying to memorize your sadness, like it matters. like you matter.

the burn is softer now. dull. like an ember instead of a flame. when you finally look, another petal has bloomed—just one more—but it curls with delicate precision from the center, so subtle and beautiful it hurts. you touch it gently, as if it might vanish.

jaehyun notices.

your heart stutters.

“that’s new,” he says quietly, and your blood runs cold. “the flower. it wasn’t like that before, was it?”

you look up at him sharply. he saw it. the mark on your skin that’s supposed to be invisible to everyone but you.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. questions. fear. truth. all of it tangled on your tongue. you want to ask how. why. what does it mean that he can see it?

but instead, you look down again, and you lie.

“…it’s a tattoo.”

he tilts his head, curious, but doesn’t push. he smiles faintly. “it’s beautiful.”

you nod. slowly. trying to hide how your fingers are shaking.

he saw it.

he saw it.

your fate is no longer a shadow. it has a face. a voice. a heart that’s still beating despite everything.

and it’s too soon to say it out loud.

so you don’t.

you just breathe him in.

a few days pass.

you get stronger. your hands don’t shake as much when you hold the railing during therapy. your legs stop trembling after a few steps. your voice stops cracking when you speak. and jaehyun… he’s always there.

it’s a cloudy afternoon when he appears at your door, bright-eyed, holding a folded blanket in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“you’re coming with me today,” he says.

you arch a brow. “to where?”

“cafeteria,” he declares. “you’ve been eating that sad porridge for too long. and i found out today’s curry rice. i’m not letting you miss that.”

you smirk, feigning indifference, but your heart tugs toward him before you even realize it.

he wheels you out, careful but confident, his hands warm on the grips of the chair. there’s something reassuring in the way he moves—not just physically, but emotionally, too. he leads without pressure. offers comfort without demanding it. and when you pass the nurses’ station, they all wave and tease him like he’s part of the staff.

you reach the cafeteria just before the rush. he finds a table near the window and parks your chair beside it. he leaves briefly to grab two trays—curry rice, fruit, soup, even a tiny strawberry milk carton.

“you have to try this,” he says, sliding the milk toward you. “they say it’s for kids, but it tastes like nostalgia.”

you laugh, the sound foreign in your own mouth. it feels good.

the food is warm. heavy. the kind of meal that sticks to your soul. you eat slowly, watching him as he dips his spoon into the curry, his gaze distant for a moment.

“you know,” he starts, “i’ve never eaten in a real school cafeteria before.”

you blink. “never?”

he shrugs. “i didn’t go to school like normal kids. i was homeschooled. mostly because of my heart.”

you pause, setting your spoon down. “…what do you mean?”

his eyes flick to you. there’s no bitterness, only quiet honesty. “i was born with a condition. my heart’s smaller than it should be. weaker. not enough oxygen, not enough blood flow. doctors said i might not make it past ten.” he chuckles softly, like he’s told the story too many times. “surprise.”

your chest tightens. “jaehyun…”

he waves it off gently. “it’s okay. it’s my normal. but… yeah. my dad couldn’t handle it. moved to the u.s. when i was nine. said it was for work. he hasn’t called in years.” he shrugs again. “my mom’s the one who stayed. took care of everything. she’s… amazing.”

you don’t speak at first. there’s nothing you can say to fix that kind of hurt.

he smiles at you. “i always wanted to go to college. make friends. stay up late and complain about exams. stupid things, you know?” his laugh is soft. “but my body doesn’t really… cooperate.”

you stare at him, this boy made of ink and softness, and for the first time in weeks, you see someone who understands broken dreams.

“…i was in college,” you murmur. “before the crash.”

he looks up, interested.

you continue, your voice distant. “my parents own the han group. real estate empire. they gave me everything. cars, credit cards, connections. i never had to work for anything. just… floated through life. partied. skipped class. bought my way out of trouble.”

you glance down. “i thought i was untouchable.”

the silence thickens between you.

“were you happy?” jaehyun asks.

you don’t answer right away. “i don’t think i even knew what that meant.”

he nods, slowly, and your eyes meet.

his are steady. unjudging.

“but you survived,” he says softly. “and maybe… that means something.”

you nod, your throat tight. the wordless acknowledgment of a second chance neither of you asked for, but both seem to be finding in each other.

he smiles.

and for the first time since the night everything fell apart, you smile back—not out of habit, not to hide.

but because he’s there.

and somehow, that’s enough.

you notice it the first time by accident. the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the shade of the old tree in the garden, head tilted slightly back against the bark, sketchbook resting gently against his thigh, pencil still in hand. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, and the late afternoon light spills through the leaves above him like a broken halo. you stop in your tracks, stunned by how peaceful he looks, almost untouchable. fragile, in a way that makes your chest ache. not because he’s sick, but because he looks like a moment that could disappear if you blink too long.

you sit there for a while in silence, pretending to read a book seoyun lent you, but your eyes keep drifting back to him. something stirs in you—a pull, a question, a longing to reach out and brush your fingers over the soft brown strands of his hair just to prove he’s real. you don't. but the ache lingers in your fingertips.

the next time you’re in the garden, it's warmer, sunnier. a group of nurses walks by, chatting loudly. one of them—a new girl with pretty eyes and laughter that rings too sweet—leans down to jaehyun as he sketches something quietly beside you. she touches his shoulder, too familiar, and compliments his drawing. he laughs, easy and kind, and you feel something sharp twist in your stomach.

you don't speak, but your silence is louder than anything.

he notices. seoyun too.

when she walks away, seoyun turns to you, amused. “jealous?”

you scoff. “please.”

she grins, not pushing it, but the blush on your face betrays you anyway.

a few days pass before the next real moment. the sky is overcast, and there’s a bite to the wind even through the hospital windows. he wheels you back from your physical therapy session, a towel around your neck, your limbs heavy and sore but looser than before. progress. he says it like a celebration.

you end up in your room, seated by the window. he sits at the foot of your bed again, flipping through his sketchbook for no reason, and you watch him quietly until the words start to rise in your throat—uncomfortable, unwanted, but necessary.

“my friends died.”

he stops turning the pages, eyes slowly meeting yours.

“jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin. we were all in the car. they… they didn’t make it.”

his expression doesn’t change much, but something shifts behind his gaze. stillness. gravity.

“i kind of always knew,” you continue, voice raw, “but hearing it out loud from my parents just—i don’t know. it destroyed me.”

he doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you speak, which somehow makes it easier to go on.

“they weren’t… good people. not really. and neither was i. we were selfish. careless. rich kids playing with fire. we drank too much, laughed too loud, did everything we weren’t supposed to. it wasn’t just one bad night. we were always like that.”

your eyes sting, and you press your knuckles into them, biting back the sob that crawls up your throat.

“but they were my friends. and now they’re gone. and i lived.”

you whisper that last part like a confession, like it’s a crime.

jaehyun finally speaks. his voice is quiet, steady.

“sometimes… the universe chooses who gets to keep going. and it doesn’t always make sense. but maybe there’s a reason you survived.”

you glance at him, blinking through the tears. “a reason?”

he nods, folding his hands over his lap. “my mom used to tell me that souls don’t end. that when we die, we go somewhere else. not up or down, just… somewhere. and sometimes, if the bond is strong enough, we find each other again.”

your breath hitches.

he continues. “maybe your friends are somewhere better. maybe they’re waiting for you to live a different life. a better one.”

you look at him, and he looks back at you like he sees something in you—not just the guilt, but the hope, too.

“it’s hard to imagine a better life when everything hurts,” you admit.

he nods. “i know.”

“but you still smile,” you say softly. “you still draw. laugh. joke with the nurses. how do you do it?”

he exhales. “i wake up. i breathe. i try to find beauty in the small things. and some days…” he glances at you, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “some days are easier now.”

your heart thuds once in your chest, heavy and warm. his words settle over your skin like a soft blanket.

you reach for the sketchbook he abandoned, flipping through the pages until you find one of a riverbank at sunset, the water curling like molten gold, two silhouettes standing at the edge.

you touch it, then glance at him. “do you think… do you think they’re watching?”

he shrugs, but his eyes are gentle. “i think if they are, they’d want you to keep going.”

your voice trembles. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in a little, not close enough to touch, but near enough to feel. “maybe i can help.”

the silence that follows is full—not empty. his presence feels like gravity, and for the first time in your life, you want to stay grounded.

you nod. “okay.”

and just like that, something shifts again—not loudly, not suddenly. but deeply.

as if another petal has begun to bloom, unseen.

the idea is his, of course. it always is.

you're in the garden again, the sun already dipping below the edge of the building, casting the sky in strokes of rose and lavender. you were just finishing another therapy session when jaehyun appeared with something hidden under a blanket draped across his lap and a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.

“i hope you’re not allergic to strawberries,” he says, wheeling you toward the base of the old tree you’ve unofficially claimed as yours. “because i may or may not have bribed a nurse for some tonight.”

he spreads the blanket with a flourish, revealing two neatly packed hospital meal trays, a plastic container of strawberries, and a small thermos.

“tea,” he adds with a sheepish grin. “technically, it’s not allowed this late, but…”

you laugh softly, warmth curling in your stomach. “you’re going to get us both kicked out.”

“worth it,” he says, shrugging. “you deserve something normal.”

so you sit under the tree together, knees almost touching, your trays in your laps as you eat. the food is nothing special—bland rice, lukewarm soup—but everything tastes better when you're with him. he picks out the best strawberries for you, pointing out the heart-shaped ones and acting offended when you call him cheesy. you tell him he’s hopeless. he calls you dramatic. the laughter between you is quiet, but real. it settles into your chest like something you never knew you needed.

afterward, you both lean back against the tree, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. he’s drawn the garden at night before, he tells you—once when he couldn’t sleep and the moon was full. he flips to the page and shows you: soft shadows, the leaves whispering in the breeze, the hospital windows lit up behind the trees like stars that never go out.

you trace the lines with your eyes, fingers twitching against your lap.

“you’re not just good,” you murmur. “you’re… incredible.”

he looks at you, just for a moment, and something in his gaze softens.

“so are you.”

your breath catches. you don’t say anything.

later, when it’s time to return inside, he walks you slowly back, the silence between you no longer awkward—just peaceful. when you reach your room, he lingers at the door.

“i need to tell you something,” he says.

you tilt your head. “what is it?”

“my checkup came back really good this time. better than anyone expected. the doctors want me to rest at home for a while.”

you blink. the words don’t register at first.

“you’re… leaving?”

he nods. “just for a bit. i’ll still come to the hospital for follow-ups. i’ll visit you. i promise.”

your stomach sinks. suddenly, the thought of not seeing him every day feels unbearable. he’s become a constant, the steady rhythm in the chaos of your new reality.

he must see it in your face because he smiles gently and reaches out, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“you’ll be okay,” he says.

you nod, but you’re not sure you believe it.

the next morning, his mother comes to collect him. you meet her in the hallway outside your room. she’s elegant, composed, with soft features and tired eyes that hide their sorrow beneath expertly applied makeup. when she sees you, her smile is warm but distant.

“you must be the girl jaehyun won’t stop talking about,” she says kindly.

your cheeks flush. “i didn’t know he talked about me.”

“he doesn’t talk much about himself,” she replies, glancing at her son as he signs discharge papers. “but with you… he’s different.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

before he leaves, jaehyun gives you a folded piece of paper—another drawing. this one is of the two of you beneath the tree, laughing, your hair whipping in the breeze.

you don’t open it until you’re alone.

when you do, your heart nearly cracks.

and then, as if on cue, your wrist begins to burn—low and sharp, like a blooming spark beneath your skin. you look down slowly.

another petal.

the fifth.

you touch it with trembling fingers, watching the outline settle beside the others, the once-empty flower slowly filling. it's more than halfway now. what would happen when it completes? would everything become clear, or would it only hurt more?

you don’t know.

but you know one thing for sure: he saw it.

he always saw it.

and somehow, you think… he knows.

the first few days after jaehyun leaves are the hardest. not because anything dramatic happens, not because something has changed visibly in your world, but because of the absence—quiet, cold, and ever-present, settling over your hospital room like a forgotten blanket. there's no knock at the door just past lunch, no soft voice teasing you about the terrible food or the sharp scent of pencil shavings clinging to the sketchbook he always carried. you find yourself staring at the clock without meaning to, tracing over the familiar grooves of his name in your memory, listening for a laugh that doesn’t come.

you hold the drawing he left you too tightly. the paper has started to curl at the edges, a sign of how many times your fingers have clutched it in search of something tangible, something real. you haven’t put it away. you can’t. it's tucked between the folds of your blanket or perched on the tray beside your bed, always within reach, like a talisman against the growing ache of missing him. when you look at it, you remember the exact moment it was drawn—the way his eyes flicked between you and the page, the way the corners of his mouth turned upward with each new stroke. you wonder what he sees when he draws you. if it's anything close to how you feel when you look at him.

the flower on your wrist remains unchanged for days. five petals. just five. they sit there in delicate permanence, a reminder of how far you've come... and how far there is still to go. you find yourself watching the mark when you're alone, as if willing it to bloom might somehow bring him back. but it doesn't. and you don't know if it ever will.

the therapists try to keep your days structured. physical rehab in the morning, psychiatric sessions in the afternoon. the latter are the hardest. you speak little at first. you hate crying in front of strangers, but it keeps happening. when the psychiatrist asks about your friends, your chest tightens until the words can’t leave your throat. when she gently encourages you to talk about the accident, all you can do is close your eyes and press your nails into your palms, hoping the sting is enough to keep the memories at bay. it doesn’t work.

you think about seulgi’s laugh. about how minkyung used to braid your hair while you slept on long drives. about taemin’s ridiculous playlist choices, and how jongin always knew the best shortcuts through the city. they are shadows now. fragments. ghosts in your chest that never leave.

jaehyun calls once, a few days after his discharge. seoyun hands you the phone with a grin too wide for her face and whispers, “someone’s asking for you.” your heart stumbles over itself.

“hey,” his voice says through the receiver, soft and warm, like honey seeping into tea.

“hi,” you breathe, the word small and sharp.

there’s a pause. not awkward, just... full.

“i miss the garden,” he says finally. “miss our tree.”

“it misses you too,” you reply, and you think it might be true.

he tells you his mother made kimchi stew, that he helped her with the radishes and cut his finger in the process. he makes it sound dramatic, but you know him well enough now to hear the grin behind the complaint. you ask about his health, and he assures you he’s fine—more than fine, even. his voice dips a little, like he wants to say something more, but he stops himself. you do too.

the next time he visits, it’s unannounced. you’re in the middle of flipping through an old magazine, too distracted to care about the outdated fashion trends, when the door clicks open and he’s just... there. standing in the doorway, sunlight spilling around him like some sort of divine joke. you blink, sure you’re imagining him, but he smiles and steps in.

“thought you might be bored without me.”

you don’t realize you’re crying until he’s beside you, his thumb brushing away the tears like he’s done it a thousand times before.

he stays for hours. he sketches while you read aloud from the book you’d been pretending to care about, and the sound of your voice mixes with the soft scratch of pencil on paper. he doesn't show you the drawing this time. just folds it into his bag when you're done, like it’s something secret, something sacred.

another petal appears that night. the sixth. you trace it in the darkness, heart hammering.

one afternoon, the weather warms and seoyun wheels you to the cafeteria for lunch, but something feels different—lighter. the sun is out. the garden is green again. and when you look across the courtyard, jaehyun is there, holding a tray in one hand and pointing to an empty table with the other. “thought i’d steal you for lunch,” he calls.

he insists on pushing your chair, ignoring your protests, navigating the path with ease like he’s memorized every bump and crack. when you settle into the table, trays between you, he offers you a smile that makes your chest flutter.

he had just said something about the dreams he still holds close. not about school this time—he'd already spoken about that. this time, it’s about music.

"i always wanted to learn to play piano," he says, a hint of longing in his smile, eyes cast toward the distance like he’s tracing the path of some long-lost melody only he can hear. "not for anyone else. just for me. i used to watch performances online, lying in bed during those longer stays here... sometimes i imagined myself on stage, not performing, but simply... feeling the keys beneath my fingers."

you listen closely, soaking in his words. this boy who speaks with a quiet bravery, who makes soft confessions like secrets pressed between the pages of a diary. you find yourself watching his face more than the view behind him. there’s something in the way his eyes carry a sadness too heavy for his age, but he still finds beauty in small dreams. you don’t interrupt. you can’t.

he looks back at you, and for a heartbeat, the world stills.

"thank you," he says. you blink.

"for what?"

"for making me feel a little more normal. for not treating me like i’m going to disappear. even if you think you are a bit too spoiled sometimes." a teasing smirk breaks through his gentleness.

you let out a huff, nudging his leg with your foot. "i’m not spoiled. i’m just... accustomed to comfort."

"exactly," he laughs. and it’s unfair, how that sound makes your chest feel lighter and heavier all at once. you could sit here forever. but reality has a way of reminding you that forever is not something promised.

there’s a moment, right after, when he checks the time on the corner wall clock. his face changes subtly—only slightly. you notice.

"i have to go," he says gently, the words a weight pressed between you both. "my mom’s waiting. she says i shouldn’t overdo it, especially now that i’m doing better."

you don’t respond right away. you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

he stands, folding the sketchbook in his arms. then his eyes linger on you. for a second, it feels like he wants to say something more. you do too. but nothing comes out.

"you’ll come back?" your voice is quiet, fragile in a way you hate.

he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that tries to be strong for both of you. "i promised, didn’t i? besides, someone has to keep you in check."

he leaves with that. and as the door closes, you realize how cold the room suddenly feels.

two weeks stretch like slow waves crashing gently on the shore. in his absence, your world softens into routine. your legs begin to respond better, the nerves slowly remembering movement, as if waking from a long and painful sleep. you begin therapy sessions with more intensity, though you still dread them. muscles cry in resistance, and every step with the crutches feels like dragging your past behind you.

some days, you use the crutches, stubborn and determined. other days, you sit in your wheelchair and sigh dramatically when seoyun comes to wheel you around, making her laugh.

"you’re just lazy," she says, half-chuckling, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

"i’m injured," you counter, pouting, batting your lashes as if that could explain away your unwillingness to walk.

"you’re a brat. a cute one, but still a brat."

you roll your eyes, but inside, the warmth of her teasing eases the bitterness of healing. she treats you like a person, not a patient. still, there are days when you break in private. when you cry after failed attempts to stand too long. when you curse your past self for the recklessness that led you here. on those days, the sketch jaehyun gave you remains on your bedside table, the penciled image of you beneath the large garden tree, peaceful and whole. you reach for it more than you’d admit, tracing the lines like a prayer.

you notice the flower on your wrist again. it has five petals now.

not even half.

what happens when it’s full?

what happens if it never finishes blooming?

what if he never comes back?

but even in your doubts, a quiet ember burns. because you know the truth now, even if you haven’t spoken it aloud.

he is the one you were meant to find.

days blurred together in muted hues of beige and soft grays, the hospital walls becoming your second skin, the scent of antiseptic laced with blooming jasmine from the garden etched into your senses. mornings were quieter now, the chatter of nurses distant as you sat by the window, legs wrapped in a thin blanket, hands resting atop the worn cover of a poetry book you hadn’t opened in days. your recovery was painfully slow, each day a war between your will and your fragile body. the physiotherapy sessions had begun, awkward and frustrating, with trembling knees and unsteady steps supported by the sterile clink of cold metal crutches. sometimes, they felt heavier than your own bones. sometimes, they felt like failure.

seoyun was endlessly patient. she joked about your dramatic sighs, your stubborn pouts, calling you “little madam” as she guided you through corridors or wheeled you into the garden when you simply refused to walk. you pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was, her kindness made the weight a little easier to bear. still, there were moments you broke. the frustration built like a storm, and when your knees buckled again and again during one of your morning trials, the tears came unbidden. you sat on the tiled floor, fists clenched and voice trembling as you muttered, “maybe i’ll never walk again. maybe i’m broken forever.”

you didn’t notice seoyun step back to make a quick call, didn’t hear her whispering softly by the doorway. your breath was uneven, chest tight, when soft footsteps approached.

“y/n,” a familiar voice said, low and careful.

you didn’t lift your head at first, not until his shadow knelt beside you.

“jaehyun,” you murmured, breath catching.

his eyes searched your face, his brows drawing together with quiet worry. “seoyun told me you had a rough morning.”

you swallowed hard, blinking fast as your voice came out brittle. “i’m tired. of trying and failing. of hoping.”

he sat beside you, not minding the sterile hospital floor, knees drawn up as he leaned forward slightly. “hope isn’t weakness,” he said after a moment. “it’s the bravest thing you can do, especially when everything hurts.”

you glanced at him, the vulnerability in your chest rising like a tide. he looked at you the way no one ever had before—like your pain wasn’t something shameful. like it mattered.

“you always say things like that,” you said quietly. “things that make me feel like… i’m not lost.”

he smiled, soft and sad. “maybe it’s because i’ve felt that way too. and it’s easier to believe for someone else.”

there was a beat of silence.

“you came back,” you said, not a question, just a truth you were still holding on to.

he nodded. “i told you i would.”

“but… why?” your voice cracked slightly. “why do you keep coming back?”

jaehyun exhaled, gaze dropping to his fingers curled together. when he looked up again, there was something raw and unguarded in his expression.

“because i can’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “because every time i leave, i end up thinking about you. wondering if you’ve smiled that day, if you’re okay. i come back because… you matter to me, more than i ever thought someone could.”

your breath hitched. your heart trembled inside your chest, and that burning sensation—familiar and searing—climbed up your left arm. you didn’t need to look. you knew. another petal. six now.

your eyes glistened, lips parting as if to speak, but words tangled in your throat.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, nervousness flickering in his voice. “i just… i needed you to know. even if it’s messy. even if it’s too soon.”

you reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his, and your hand stayed there, resting against his knuckles. “i don’t know what this is yet,” you whispered. “but when you’re not here, it’s like something’s missing. i think about you, too. more than i should.”

his smile was quiet, full of unsaid things.

you leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you sitting on that cold hospital floor as if it were the safest place in the world. no one disturbed you. the moment stretched, breathing on its own, warm and fragile.

after some time, he gently helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist as you steadied yourself on your crutches. he didn’t rush you. he didn’t speak. he just walked beside you, step by slow step, like he was learning your pace and choosing to match it.

and somehow, that made everything feel a little less impossible.

the days that followed brought a mixture of progress and discomfort. your legs had started to regain more strength, slowly but surely. you were now learning how to move with crutches, though they still felt like a betrayal of your independence. some mornings you pushed through with determined stubbornness, managing to walk short distances, while others you gave up halfway, throwing yourself into the wheelchair with an annoyed huff, your pride dented but intact. seoyun would only chuckle at your dramatic outbursts, calling you her “spoiled little princess,” gently scolding you as she handed you snacks or pushed you down the hallway like a child refusing to walk. the truth was, your frustration ran deeper than just physical weakness — it was a constant war between the life you used to have and the one you were learning to accept.

one afternoon, your parents mentioned that a few of your university classmates were coming to visit. you didn’t want to see them — you weren’t ready. but they were already on their way, and it felt wrong to refuse. so you sat there, stiff and uncomfortable in your hospital bed, as familiar faces entered your room. they smiled politely, voices gentle, eyes filled with pity they tried to disguise. their words were kind, their concern clearly rehearsed. you nodded along, offering vague answers, not wanting to seem cold. but inside, you felt nothing. not joy, not connection — only a strange emptiness. when they left, you exhaled so deeply it felt like the air had been stuck in your lungs for hours.

not long after, jaehyun showed up.

he had a routine checkup that day and stopped by your room as soon as he finished. the moment you saw him, something inside you softened — like finally breathing after holding your breath for too long.

“heard you had visitors,” he said, pulling a chair close to your bed.

you nodded, eyes on your lap. “some classmates. it was... weird.”

“weird how?”

you shrugged. “forced. fake. i don’t know. they were smiling too much.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t judge. instead, he tilted his head, watching you with that calm gaze of his — the one that always made your walls tremble. “maybe they just didn’t know how to act. maybe they were really glad you’re alive, even if they didn’t know how to show it.”

you looked at him then, eyes narrowed. “you always give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“you never do,” he countered gently, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t like feeling pitied.”

“and i don’t think that’s what they meant to do.” his voice was soft, his words like warm water slowly soaking into dry soil. “not everyone knows how to deal with trauma — even when it’s not their own.”

you didn’t answer, but he could see you thinking about it. you wanted to believe him. maybe not for their sake, but for yours. maybe believing in something softer would hurt less than all that bitterness pressing against your ribs.

he leaned back in the chair, arms stretching behind his head. “you looked like a grumpy kitten just now.”

“i did not.”

“you so did.”

you glared at him, cheeks puffed with indignation. “you’re so annoying.”

“but you like me anyway,” he teased, reaching out to lightly pinch your cheek. “come on, admit it.”

“no.”

he chuckled and leaned closer. you hadn’t noticed how near he’d gotten until you turned your head — and suddenly, your faces were only inches apart. the laughter in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something that made your heart stumble in your chest. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, then down again, slower this time. the space between you shrank like the air itself was pulling you toward him.

you didn’t move. neither did he. the world felt still, like time itself was watching.

his lips barely parted. “can i...?”

but before he could finish, a knock on the door sliced through the tension.

you both jerked away from each other, heat flooding your cheeks. the door creaked open and seoyun peeked in, one brow raised. “jaehyun, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for y/n’s therapy session.”

jaehyun cleared his throat, standing up too quickly. “right. of course.”

you avoided his eyes, grabbing your crutches like they might anchor you in place. your entire body felt like it was buzzing with something unfinished.

as seoyun guided you through the hall, she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“what was that?” she asked playfully.

“nothing,” you muttered, a little too fast, face still burning.

she raised an eyebrow. “mmhmm. nothing. sure.”

“seoyun.”

“fine, fine,” she laughed. “i’ll be back later... lovebirds.”

you glared at her retreating figure, but you couldn’t stop the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. not even the dread of your session could erase it completely. something had shifted. something unspoken. and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it pulsed beneath your skin like the quiet burn of your soulmate mark — now with six petals blooming around its center.

and though no words had been said, something had been felt.

something real.

the therapy room was quiet when you entered, the kind of hush that wraps itself around your bones and makes everything inside you feel more exposed. it smelled faintly of lavender and paper, and the lights were soft, as if trying not to disturb the fragility of your thoughts.

you sat on the couch, your crutches resting beside you like tired limbs. the psychiatrist — a woman with kind, steady eyes — offered you a warm smile, her pen poised loosely between her fingers.

“how are you feeling today?”

you hesitated. your throat felt tight. “i’m not sure,” you admitted. “it’s been… confusing.”

she nodded, as if she already understood. “want to talk about it?”

you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting nervously in your lap. “there’s this boy. jaehyun. he’s—” your voice cracked softly, and you sighed. “he’s not just anyone. i didn’t even know him before the accident. we met after. but somehow, he’s become... everything.”

“everything?” she asked gently.

you nodded, your chest tightening with the weight of your own confession. “i feel like i’m losing control. every time he’s near, i get this—this burn on my wrist, like fire licking at my skin, and i know it’s tied to the soulmate symbol. it started as one petal. now it’s six.”

the therapist’s eyes flicked to your wrist, where the mark now bloomed like a half-open flower, soft and glowing faintly beneath your hospital bracelet.

“and how does that make you feel?”

“scared,” you whispered. “because it’s not just the symbol. it’s him. the way he makes me laugh when i don’t want to. how he looks at me like i’m more than my injuries, like i’m still whole. i never believed in soulmates. i thought it was just… poetic bullshit. but now…”

“now you want it to be real?”

you looked up, your voice a soft plead. “i need it to be real. because i think i—i think i’m falling for him. and i need to know if this thing between us is fate... or just my heart clinging to the first person who didn’t look at me with pity.”

the therapist leaned forward slightly. “have you talked to him about it?”

you shook your head, lips trembling. “i don’t even know how. i feel like every time we get close to saying something real, the world interrupts us. and if i ask too soon… what if it’s only me? what if i’m wrong?”

the session continued for a while longer, but your mind remained tangled in that single question — was this love written in the stars, or simply desperation dressed in hope?

afterward, as you returned to your room, the thoughts clung to you like fog. you sat on the edge of your bed, glancing at the door, half-expecting jaehyun to walk in like he always did. but today, he didn’t. and maybe that absence made the ache sharper.

you let your head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and let yourself feel it — all of it.

you remembered the first time you saw him. not when you met him, not when you first heard his name — but the first time. that rainy afternoon in the hallway, when you were still adjusting to the weight of your healing body and he was just a stranger. he was leaning against the wall, earbuds in, hood up, eyes distant. you’d only glanced at him, but something pulled at you. something quiet. you didn’t even know his name then, but he had this presence — like gravity, soft but undeniable.

and then you did get to know him.

his voice — low, warm, always careful with its edges. his hands — long-fingered and expressive, always finding ways to help you without making it feel like charity. the way his laughter wasn’t loud, but it stayed in the room like sunlight. the way he listened. really listened.

and his face — god, his face. dark eyes with a hint of melancholy, as if he’d seen too much but still chose softness. lips that moved with intention, like every word mattered. that little mole beneath his eye, the curve of his jaw when he smiled, the way his hair would fall into his eyes and he’d shake it away without thinking. and when he looked at you? it felt like being seen for the first time.

he made you feel safe. not the kind of safety that came from locked doors or quiet rooms, but the kind that wrapped around your soul — safety from yourself, from the guilt, from the fear of never being whole again.

you touched your wrist absently, fingers brushing over the six soft petals of the flower. you didn’t know what would happen when it bloomed completely. would it mean certainty? would it mean forever?

“do you believe in soulmates?” you had asked him once, weeks ago, in a fleeting moment when neither of you were quite ready to be honest.

he had shrugged back then. “i think... i believe in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.”

you hadn’t said anything at the time. you’d just nodded. but now, those words felt like a quiet promise. a foreshadowing.

you curled up on your side, wrapping your arms around your pillow, heart aching with unspoken truths. because you did believe now. or maybe you just wanted to believe. and that difference — that thin, trembling line — was what kept you up at night.

if he came back tomorrow, if he looked at you again like he did before the almost-kiss…

would you have the courage to ask him again?

and would he finally tell you what you were too afraid to say?

it was the middle of the afternoon when jaehyun returned. you hadn’t expected him — the last time you spoke, he mentioned his mother had scheduled more tests in another hospital, and he’d be gone a while. but there he was, standing in the doorway of your room, holding a plastic bag with canned coffee and a half-smile that faltered the moment your eyes met.

you were seated by the window, your legs propped up, crutches leaning against the wall, the pale sunlight catching on the blooming symbol at your wrist. seven petals now. soft, radiant, like delicate fire.

“you came back,” you whispered, too stunned to stand.

jaehyun nodded, stepping inside slowly, almost as if afraid he might disappear if he moved too quickly. “i missed this place,” he said, setting the coffee on the small table beside you, but his eyes were only on you. “i missed you.”

you swallowed, trying to calm the whirlwind inside you. the past few days had been suffocating. the therapy, the visits, the frustration of trying to move on legs that still betrayed you — but more than anything, the ache of not seeing him.

you reached out, wrapping your fingers around your wrist, heart pounding. “there’s something i need to tell you.”

his expression shifted immediately. concern flashed behind his eyes, and he crouched in front of you, resting one hand lightly on your knee. “what’s wrong?”

you looked down, voice trembling. “it’s about this.” you turned your wrist toward him, exposing the flower that had now grown fuller, more defined. the glow of it shimmered faintly in the sunlight. “do you know what this means?”

he stared at it, brow furrowed. “i… i know it’s the soulmate mark. but i’ve never seen one like that.”

you nodded, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “it appears petal by petal. for most people, their soulmate can’t see it. they just feel it. the warmth, the burn. but jaehyun…” you inhaled shakily. “you’ve seen it. you’ve always seen it.”

he didn’t speak. his lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

“i thought maybe i was imagining it. but you see it. and it only blooms when you’re near. not when seoyun’s around. not my parents. not even when the therapist asked about it. only you.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “i had this dream, back when i was still in and out of consciousness after the crash. i saw this red thread tied around my wrist. it stretched endlessly, through cities, skies, time... and at the end of it was you.”

his breath caught.

“i know it sounds crazy, but… that red thread they talk about, the one that connects soulmates, it’s real. and i’ve felt it pulling me toward you since the moment i saw you laughing in the hallway. i didn’t even know your name, but my heart knew. my soul knew.”

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“you asked me once if i believed in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.” your voice softened into something raw and tender. “i think we were always meant to meet. even in this hospital, even through all this pain. maybe fate isn’t perfect, but it’s persistent. and it brought me you.”

jaehyun’s cheeks flushed with color, his eyes wet and glassy. “i don’t… i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything.” you cupped his cheek with your free hand, brushing your thumb across his skin. “just feel it.”

he leaned into your touch, slowly, as if absorbing every drop of your warmth. “when you weren’t here, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. i didn’t realize how much you’d become a part of me until you weren’t within reach. i thought maybe… maybe i was being selfish. coming here all the time, waiting to see you smile, hoping you’d lean on me.”

“you weren’t being selfish,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “you were just following the thread.”

he laughed softly, the sound shaky and full of wonder. “then i guess i’ll follow it for as long as it leads me to you.”

your heart ached in the best possible way, swollen with something deeper than joy. his forehead leaned gently against yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath on your lips. neither of you kissed — not yet — but something passed between you, weightless and electric.

outside the window, the trees swayed in slow rhythm. inside, time stood still.

and on your wrist, the eighth petal began to bloom.

the hospital was quiet that night. the kind of quiet that didn’t feel hollow, but sacred—like the world had paused for just the two of you. seoyun had long since gone home after giving you one last teasing smile about how suspiciously often jaehyun had been around lately, and the nurses gave their soft goodnights as they dimmed the hallway lights.

jaehyun sat beside your bed, legs curled under him, his head resting on his hand as he watched you fiddle with the blanket wrapped around your waist. you'd begged him to sneak out with you to the garden, but your legs had been trembling all day, and he refused to let you strain yourself. still, he stayed. he always stayed.

you reached for the window, tugging it open with effort. the night breeze brushed against your skin like a whispered promise. jaehyun turned toward the air and closed his eyes, letting the wind rustle his hair. he looked so peaceful, like something out of a dream.

“you ever wonder,” you murmured, “if the stars are watching us back?”

he opened his eyes, slow and soft. “maybe. or maybe they’re jealous.”

you glanced at him, amused. “jealous of what?”

“of us,” he said simply. “of the fact that we found each other.”

your heart stuttered.

“jaehyun…”

he stood then, gently tugging you upright. your legs wobbled, but he was there in an instant, holding your arms steady, lowering you into the wheelchair you now only used when exhaustion crept in too quickly. his hands on you were always so careful. like you were made of something precious and fragile.

together, you rolled out into the hallway, past the night nurse who gave a silent nod of approval, and down to the garden. the moon was full tonight, bathing everything in silver. the tree where you’d first sat together was swaying gently, leaves whispering secrets.

jaehyun helped you onto the bench, then sat beside you, closer this time. there was something in the air. a pull.

and then you saw it.

glowing faintly in the moonlight.

a thread.

thin. red. pulsing like a heartbeat.

stretching from his wrist… to yours.

your breath caught. you lifted your arm slowly, and jaehyun mirrored you. eyes wide, lips parted, as he stared at the connection between you. it wasn’t metaphorical anymore. it was real. living.

“you see it,” you whispered.

his voice trembled. “i see it.”

tears welled up in your eyes, your hand trembling as you reached for him. his fingers met yours halfway, lacing with instinctive ease. you turned to him, face flushed, the gravity between you now undeniable.

“jaehyun,” you breathed. “do you remember what you said? about wanting to know what it’s like to be loved like in stories?”

his throat bobbed as he nodded.

you leaned in, your voice no more than a quiver. “this is that story.”

he cupped your cheek, so tenderly, so reverently it made your heart splinter and swell all at once. he looked at you like you were everything he ever wanted to hold.

“can i?” he asked, voice trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

you nodded, barely.

and then, slowly, softly, jaehyun kissed you.

it was shy at first—his lips tentative against yours, unsure, gentle, as if he was afraid to get it wrong. but when your hand slid to the back of his neck and your fingers curled into his hair, he sighed against you, a breathless, stunned sound, and kissed you again. deeper. fuller.

your first kiss with him tasted like everything you'd longed for but never knew you needed. and his first kiss with you… felt like the beginning of something holy.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads still touching, you noticed something glowing brighter than the thread—

the ninth petal.

you smiled through your tears. “i love you.”

jaehyun was still breathless, lips swollen, cheeks red.

and then he whispered, almost as if he was afraid to say it too loudly and shatter the moment:

“i think… i always have.”

everything after the kiss felt like walking on clouds. no—floating. jaehyun’s fingers laced with yours whenever seoyun wasn’t watching. he’d whisper things in your ear just to see you blush, and your smiles bloomed like flowers every time he called you his one and only.

“you’re mine,” he’d whisper while pushing your wheelchair down the garden path. “the universe made you for me. i'm not letting you go.”

his words weren’t just sweet—they were convincing, like vows whispered into existence, like every syllable was a thread woven into the invisible red string that bound your souls. seoyun would narrow her eyes, lips twitching, clearly suspicious, but you only giggled, clutching his hand tighter, savoring the delicious secrecy of it all. jaehyun was yours. your soulmate. your only one. your forever.

but nothing ever stays perfect. not when fate is involved.

it happened in the middle of one of your usual walks. the air was warm, the breeze soft, and jaehyun was humming something under his breath as he gently guided your chair. he’d just leaned down to murmur something teasing in your ear—something about your hair looking extra shiny today—when his voice broke.

you turned around just in time to see his knees buckle.

“jaehyun?”

his eyes rolled back. his body crumpled to the ground.

“jaehyun!”

panic exploded in your chest as nurses came running. one of them had already seen him fall and radioed for assistance. he was lifted onto a stretcher with swift, trained hands. you watched in frozen horror as they rushed him back into the building, his pale face slack, his name tumbling from your lips like a broken prayer.

you couldn't move. your legs trembled even as you tried to stand, gripping the sides of your chair. seoyun came running, helped you back down, whispering reassurances you couldn’t hear past the roaring in your ears.

“he's okay,” she said. “he’s okay, y/n. he just fainted, okay? we’ll find out what happened.”

but it wasn’t just a faint. not when they wheeled him straight into cardiac observation.

you found out later that night, sitting in the hallway outside the ICU. his mother arrived in a rush—elegant, though her eyes were swollen, the same warmth as jaehyun’s but dulled with worry. she told the doctors she'd already noticed signs of arrhythmia through his at-home monitor. jaehyun, stubborn as ever, had begged her not to bring him back. he said he felt fine.

you wanted to scream.

instead, you stared at the door to his room, knuckles white on your crutches. you'd stopped using the wheelchair, trying your best to follow your physiotherapist’s advice. your legs wobbled, but they worked. he even suggested a cane for short distances. you scoffed, saying you'd rather die than look like an old woman. jaehyun would have laughed at that.

but he wasn’t laughing now.

the next morning, you visited him. the roles had reversed—you were the one pushing open the hospital room door now. he was lying there, propped up against pillows, an IV snaking into his arm, ECG leads taped across his chest. his eyes lit up the moment they saw you, but the shine didn’t reach the dark circles beneath them.

“you look good,” he said, voice scratchy. “better on your feet.”

“you look like hell,” you replied, hobbling toward his bed.

“missed you too.”

he tried to smile. you tried not to cry.

later, when the nurse stepped out and you were both alone, you sat beside his bed and reached for his hand. his fingers were cold. his grip was weaker than usual.

jaehyun looked up at the ceiling, the sterile white lights reflecting in his glassy eyes.

“i’m tired, y/n.”

his voice wasn’t small—it was hollow.

“i’m tired of this... this place. this body. i never asked for this. i didn’t want to grow up memorizing the colors of hospital ceilings. i didn’t want to learn the names of heart medications before i knew what real love felt like.”

you didn’t speak. the lump in your throat was too thick.

“i watch people walk around outside and i wonder how it must feel to wake up and not worry if today’s the day your heart just... stops.”

he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept falling—silent, steady, as if they’d been waiting years to fall.

“i wanted to go to school like everyone else. have friends. travel. fall in love without worrying if i’ll still be here next month. now i have you and all i can think is, what if it’s too late?”

your hand curled tighter around his.

“it’s not,” you whispered.

he didn’t answer.

the door opened again. his doctor stepped inside, face unreadable, holding a chart.

“jaehyun,” he said gently, “we’re going to run some more scans. the arrhythmia needs monitoring. we’ll need to keep you here for a few more days, but we’ll take it one step at a time, alright?”

jaehyun didn’t respond. just nodded, barely. his gaze stayed locked on yours.

and even though he was the one with the failing heart—you were the one who felt like yours was breaking.

the garden was quiet that afternoon. clouds hung low over the sky like they, too, had something to mourn. you sat beneath the same tree you used to visit with jaehyun, but now the breeze felt colder, and the laughter that had once lingered here was gone.

your crutches rested against the stone bench. your legs were sore, trembling slightly from walking more than you should have, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

you hated this.

hated that he was back in a hospital bed. hated that he had to smile through his pain. hated that he said he was tired, and you knew he didn’t just mean physically.

you clutched your chest, fingers pressing over the soft fabric of your hoodie where your soulmark bloomed quietly underneath. seven petals now. only one left.

and still... he was sick.

what if the thread of fate was cruel? what if it was meant to show you who you'd lose, not who you'd keep?

tears spilled silently down your cheeks. you covered your face with your hands, biting your lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

“please,” you whispered to no one. “please don’t take him away from me.”

the sky didn’t answer. only the leaves rustling above.

the next day, you returned to his room. he was sitting up again, looking better, at least on the outside. his mom had gone home for a bit, and the nurses were switching shifts. it was just the two of you, like it had always been.

you stood at the door for a moment, crutches supporting you, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he looked up. his eyes widened.

“you’re walking again?”

“hobbling,” you corrected, forcing a smile.

jaehyun grinned, and for a second, it was easy to forget. easy to pretend he wasn’t hooked up to machines, that there wasn’t a chart by his bed filled with words like arrhythmia and risk assessment.

you limped to his bedside. he reached out for your hand before you could even sit.

“you came back,” he whispered.

“i’ll always come back,” you said.

he opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it—tugging up your sleeve and showing him your wrist.

the flower.

seven petals, glowing faintly.

his eyes widened.

“it’s almost complete,” you said, voice shaking with something too big for words. “just one more. and then... maybe then we’ll be safe.”

“safe?”

“you and me. i don’t know, i just... i think once it’s full, something will change. maybe you’ll get better. maybe the universe will give us a break. i feel it, jaehyun. we’re supposed to be together. for always.”

his hand shook as he reached out to brush his thumb over your soulmark.

“i don’t deserve you.”

“you’re the only one who ever could.”

you leaned in, cupped his face.

“you’re mine.”

and you kissed him.

not with desperation, but with certainty.

his lips were soft, still unfamiliar, but yours moved like they’d known each other forever. his hand slipped to your waist, and you climbed carefully onto the bed, settling beside him with your head against his shoulder, your bodies curled into each other like puzzle pieces that had finally clicked into place.

neither of you spoke. there was no need.

you just were.

together.

you stayed like that until a nurse knocked gently and warned you to be careful. you both scrambled like kids caught sneaking out, faces flushed, laughter caught in your throats.

but the laughter faded the next morning when the results came in.

his doctor walked in with a different expression this time—one that made your stomach twist.

“we need to run additional diagnostics,” he said calmly. “his heart rhythm is more irregular than expected. we’ll conduct a cardiac MRI, possibly a stress test. there are signs that we may be dealing with something beyond arrhythmia.”

you stopped breathing.

jaehyun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t react beyond a quiet nod. he didn’t want you to worry.

but you did.

the next day, you brought lunch to his room. he wasn’t hungry, not really, but he took a few bites of the rice and soup anyway. he didn’t want to talk about the test. neither did you.

so instead, you talked about everything else.

“do you remember the day we met?” he asked softly.

“i thought you were so beautiful. even back then. even when you looked like you wanted to kill me.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder again, your fingers tracing idle shapes on the blanket.

“you were so kind,” you whispered. “i didn’t expect someone like you to be real. and then you kept coming back, and i didn’t know what to do with all that... goodness.”

he turned his head, eyes soft.

“you don’t have to do anything with it. just take it.”

you looked up at him.

“can i kiss you again?”

he blushed, but nodded.

you didn’t wait.

you kissed him like you wanted to breathe him in. kissed him because everything about him was hope and light and love. kissed him because if tomorrow was cruel, you needed to give him all the softness today could offer.

his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“don’t leave,” he murmured into your hair.

“never,” you said. “you’re stuck with me. forever.”

you didn’t know what the tests would say.

you had left the hospital three days ago, not the way you once imagined you would. no victorious music playing in your head, no dramatic moment of running through the halls with a discharge paper in hand. no. instead, your steps were slow, accompanied by the steady rhythm of your crutches and the soft click of the cane—an item you had stubbornly refused at first, claiming it made you look like an old woman. but in the end, your physiotherapist convinced you it was the next step, a temporary aid, not a defeat.

seoyun had packed your things while humming lightly, her words gentle, her smile warm. she promised to visit often, to check in and make sure you were still behaving like the little diva she’d grown fond of. your parents were there too, proud but cautiously optimistic, helping you settle into the car with pillows behind your back, like you were made of glass. everything outside the hospital felt too bright, too loud. the city buzzed as if nothing had happened, as if your world hadn’t turned upside down.

the first two nights at home were quiet. too quiet. the silence pressed against your chest in a way the heart monitor never did. you missed the soft beeps, the nurses’ laughter down the hall, the smell of sterilized linens… but more than anything, you missed him.

jaehyun.

so on the third morning, you asked the driver to take you back. you dressed carefully, picking a soft sweater he once said he liked, something warm but not too heavy. you held a small bouquet in your hands—flowers that resembled the ones on your wrist, delicate and soft, as if plucked from that imaginary garden your souls seemed to share.

your legs were stronger now, but they still shook sometimes. the stairs at your house were your enemies, and you avoided them like the plague. but today, walking down the hospital corridor again with your cane and crutch tucked beneath each arm, you felt determined. the familiar scent of antiseptic didn’t scare you anymore. this place had become a part of you.

you found jaehyun in his room, sitting by the window, legs folded, sketchbook untouched in his lap. he looked up when the door creaked, and the second he saw you, his entire face changed. the tiredness didn’t disappear, but something warmer surfaced beneath it—something like relief, or maybe love.

“you’re here,” he said softly, as if afraid his voice would shatter the moment.

“of course i am,” you replied, stepping inside with slow care. “did you think i’d abandon you now?”

he laughed weakly, but the sound faded too quickly. you moved closer and placed the bouquet on the side table. he didn’t reach for them. he just kept looking at you.

“you look good,” he murmured.

“and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

he tilted his head with a small smile. “i haven’t.”

“why?”

“dreams,” he said vaguely. “memories. fear. take your pick.”

you sighed and took a seat beside him on the bed, adjusting your position with a tiny wince when your knee clicked. he noticed, but said nothing.

“i thought maybe… i could cheer you up a little.” you pushed the bouquet closer to him. “i got these for you.”

he finally looked at them, really looked, and his hand brushed over the petals with the same reverence he once showed your drawing. “they look like your flower.”

you nodded, glancing down at your wrist. the mark was almost complete. just one more petal.

“i thought they’d remind you of what’s waiting for you,” you said gently. “what we have. what we can still build together.”

his eyes turned glassy. his lips parted but no sound came. instead, he reached for your hand. his fingers trembled as they found yours.

“i’m sorry i scared you the other day,” he whispered.

“don’t apologize. you didn’t ask to collapse.”

“i should’ve told someone i wasn’t feeling well. i didn’t want to worry you. i just… i felt so happy. i forgot for a second that i’m not like everyone else.”

you leaned in, your hand reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear. “you are like everyone else, jaehyun. you just happen to have a heart that’s a little more stubborn.”

he chuckled, then fell quiet again. the silence stretched between you, but not uncomfortably.

“i hate this,” he said suddenly. “i hate being here again. i hate the machines, the blood draws, the looks on people’s faces like they’re waiting for something awful to happen.”

you tightened your grip on his hand. “i know. but you’re not alone this time.”

he looked at you then, and his eyes were full of everything—grief, fear, longing, and something fierce. something brave. “i know,” he repeated, and for the first time that day, it sounded like he believed it.

you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. slowly, carefully, you shifted onto the bed, curling beside him like you had done once before, only this time you didn’t feel like the fragile one. your head rested against his shoulder, your legs tangled slightly, and his arms came around you, warm and steady. you stayed like that for a long time, both of you silent, watching the clock hands move as if they mattered.

“we’re going to be okay,” you whispered.

“yeah,” he said softly. “we will.”

but neither of you knew the results were arriving the next day.

and they wouldn’t be good.

the hallway outside jaehyun’s room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something warmer—like the remnants of someone’s coffee left to go cold. the light filtering through the blinds was soft, but it couldn’t soften the conversation taking place just beyond the threshold of the door.

his mother stood beside the doctor, hands clenched in front of her, knuckles pale against the beige of her coat sleeves. her voice trembled as she tried to keep herself together, the way she always did—strong for her son, for the world.

“how is this possible?” she asked, voice thin and breaking. “he was discharged with a good prognosis. you said he was stable. he’s been taking his medication, doing everything right…”

the doctor sighed, his expression apologetic, brows drawn together in weary resignation. “we ran a full cardiac panel and imaging. the arrhythmia has worsened significantly. his left ventricular function is dropping. it could be the result of an undetected progressive cardiomyopathy. this wasn’t visible on the last scan… but it’s advancing fast.”

her lips parted in disbelief, but no sound came. just silence, thick and suffocating. she shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “are you saying my son… might not…”

“we’re not there yet,” the doctor said carefully. “but we need to prepare. we’ll begin new treatments, increase monitoring. he’ll stay here under close observation. we need to reevaluate the transplant list... and time is critical.”

inside the room, jaehyun lay still in his bed, staring out the window with wide, quiet eyes. the sunlight painted soft gold against the pale blue of the curtains, but it didn’t reach him.

he could hear every word.

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. just let the noise blur into a low hum.

his heartbeat was too loud.

but not in the way he once loved when he was with you.

his fingers rested over the edge of his blanket, curling slightly as the doctor’s voice echoed again in his head—time is critical.

he closed his eyes, willing it all away, imagining the sound of your laughter instead, the soft scolding tone in your voice when you told him to stop being cocky, the way your eyes sparkled when you teased him.

you.

his mind searched for you instinctively, like a compass spinning toward home.

he pictured you standing by the edge of the garden in that hospital gown you hated, grumbling about your cane, rolling your eyes but letting him help you anyway. he remembered how your face looked when you smiled at him the day of your first kiss—like he was the only person in the world.

you’re like a vitamin, he thought. no… more than that.

you were air.

the reason he could breathe in moments like this.

his throat tightened. he turned his head away from the door, pretending he didn’t hear his mother’s soft sob outside, didn’t notice the way the doctor’s voice grew quieter in a vain attempt to protect him from the truth.

but the truth had already arrived.

and it sat heavy in his chest, aching, thudding unevenly.

he wasn’t afraid of dying.

but the thought of leaving you behind?

of not seeing your flower bloom to its final petal? of never getting to draw you again, touch your cheek, press his lips to yours under skies of warmth and belonging?

that was the kind of fear that broke him.

and in that moment, he felt like a boy again.

small.

helpless.

but still in love. so hopelessly in love with you, it hurt more than the failing beat of his own heart.

the garden was a quiet refuge, a small patch of life bursting through the cold sterility of the hospital walls. you had slipped away from the buzz of the ward, leaning heavily on your crutches as you made your way beneath the towering old tree. the branches swayed gently above you, leaves whispering with the breeze, as if carrying some secret message only the two of you could understand. you settled onto the worn wooden bench, your body trembling from the effort of moving, but your heart heavier for different reasons. the exhaustion of the day, the weight of your uncertain future, and the ache of missing jaehyun’s presence all pressed down on you.

you wiped at your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway—slow, quiet, a release you desperately needed. you hated feeling vulnerable like this, hated how fragile you suddenly were, but it was the truth you had to face. you were still fragile, still broken in so many ways.

inside the hospital, jaehyun lay in his room, the sterile white walls closing in around him like a cage. he stared out the window, watching the leaves move in rhythm with the wind. his heart was heavy, but his thoughts drifted to you — to your smile, to the way you moved, even on your bad days. you were a light in the darkness, a reason to hold on when everything felt so bleak. he clutched the thin hospital blanket closer, as if it could somehow shield him from the fear that clawed at his chest.

he whispered your name into the silence, a prayer, a promise, a plea. “y/n...” the word caught in his throat, fragile as a breath.

you glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. “how do you... keep going? when it’s so hard?”

“because i have a reason. you.” his hand brushed yours lightly, a touch full of unspoken promises. “you’re my reason.”

your breath caught, and tears threatened to fall again. “but what if—”

“don’t say it,” jaehyun interrupted gently, lifting your chin so your eyes met. “we don’t have to face what-ifs now. we have today. and today, we fight. together.”

you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. the doctors had warned of the risks, the uncertainty. every test, every result, was a new mountain to climb. but in that moment, beneath the ancient tree, you allowed yourself to believe in something more — in hope, in the strength of the connection that bound you and jaehyun.

you thought of the flower on your wrist, the petals blooming slowly, a symbol of the bond that neither of you could explain but both felt deeply. it was nearly complete — five delicate petals circling the center, each one a promise, a sign that you were meant to find each other, to fight together.

“maybe,” you whispered to the wind, “maybe that last petal will bloom when we’re ready... when we’ve made it through.”

back in his room, jaehyun’s eyes glistened with tears as he imagined your words. he reached out toward the window, as if he could touch you through the glass, feel your warmth. “i’ll be here, y/n,” he promised quietly. “i’ll fight to be with you. no matter what.”

neither of you could say what the future held — only that you had each other. and sometimes, that was enough to carry you through the darkest days.

the days passed with a quiet weight, each one slower than the last, carrying a heaviness that settled deep in your chest. jaehyun was still there, still fighting, but the change was undeniable. the sharp outline of his face grew thinner, his once steady hands now trembling even at rest. some mornings, he couldn’t summon the strength to sit up, his body surrendering to exhaustion long before the sun had risen.

you were always by his side — sometimes holding his hand, sometimes just sitting quietly, the silence between you filled with unspoken worries. you tried to be his rock, but behind closed doors, when no one was watching, the tears came. you cried softly in the bathroom, wiping your cheeks before returning, forcing a smile that felt like breaking glass beneath the surface.

“jaehyun,” you whispered one afternoon, your voice barely audible, “you’re stronger than this. you have to be.”

he gave you a faint, tired smile, eyes heavy but warm. “i wish i could be,” he said, voice rough. “but some days... some days my body just won’t listen.”

your heart clenched, but you reached for his hand, holding it gently as if to anchor him in this fading moment. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

he squeezed your fingers weakly, a silent promise.

a few days ago, you had noticed the flower on your wrist had finally blossomed completely — all six petals glowing softly beneath your skin. it should have been a moment of joy, a sign that maybe fate had smiled on you both. but you kept it to yourself, afraid it might feel like a goodbye, a closing chapter neither of you was ready to face.

“why don’t you tell me about it?” jaehyun asked one evening, catching the hesitance in your gaze.

you hesitated, heart aching. “because... i’m scared it means something. that it’s a sign of an ending.”

he shook his head slowly, exhaustion dimming his spark. “then let’s make it a sign of a beginning. of hope.”

his words should have comforted you, but all you could feel was the tightening grip of fear.

nights were the hardest. you stayed by his bedside, watching his shallow breaths, the way his body trembled under the thin hospital blanket. you wanted to scream, to shake the unfairness of it all — but instead, you whispered soft prayers into the dark, fingers tracing the invisible red thread you both shared.

“jaehyun,” you said quietly one morning, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, “no matter what happens, you’re the most important thing in my life.”

he opened his eyes, searching yours with a fragile clarity. “and you’re mine.”

there was so much love wrapped in those words, but beneath it was a looming shadow neither dared to name.

sometimes, when you thought he was asleep, you caught him staring at the ceiling, lips moving silently as if holding on to memories, to dreams, to you.

the hospital walls closed in around you both — a cage of uncertainty and fragile hope. but still, you clung to each other, to the small moments of laughter, the whispered confessions, the gentle touches that said, without words, “i’m here.”

and you prayed, over and over, that this thread tying your souls together would be strong enough to hold you through the storm.

the day had been quiet when you arrived at the hospital, your steps slow but steady on your cane, clutching the small bouquet of flowers — fragile, like the hope you tried to hold onto. the door to jaehyun’s room was slightly ajar, but as you pushed it open, your heart shattered instantly: the room was empty. panic flared in your chest. before you could even process, the sharp clang of wheels echoed down the hall. two camilleros rushed past, pushing jaehyun’s bed swiftly down the corridor. his pale face was barely visible, eyes closed, tubes tangled around him, machines beeping wildly.

“jaehyun!” you screamed, your voice raw and desperate, echoing through the sterile hallways. “jaehyun, wait!” your crutches clattered as you tried to follow, heart pounding violently against your ribs.

nurses and doctors shouted, their voices frantic. “code blue, code blue! prepare the resuscitation room!” you could hear the fear, the urgency. your world narrowed down to just him — the only thing that ever mattered.

a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, and you were stopped mid-step. seoyun’s face was pale, her eyes glistening with tears but filled with a calm you didn’t feel. “y/n, please. you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can,” she said softly, but her voice trembled.

another nurse gently held your other arm, grounding you. you struggled, wanting to break free, to run, to be with him. “he’s not—he can’t—” your voice cracked, tears streaming uncontrollably now, your sobs wracking your body. “he has to be okay. he has to be!”

they held you firmly as you screamed his name, your heart fracturing with every step the camilla disappeared down the corridor. voices faded into a blur, your mind caught in a storm of memories — every smile, every whispered “i love you,” every moment when his hand fit perfectly in yours.

you remembered the quiet mornings in his hospital room, the way he used to brush your hair back tenderly, the secret smiles shared over silly jokes, the soft confessions in the dark, the warmth of his embrace that made the cold sterile walls feel like home.

“why?” you sobbed to the empty hallway, clutching your chest as if you could hold your broken heart together. “why does everything I love have to be taken away?”

minutes felt like hours as you sat in the stark hospital waiting area, your hands trembling, clutching the wilted bouquet you had brought him. your tears had long since dried, but your heart hammered painfully in your chest, refusing to calm. the sterile silence was broken only by hurried footsteps and distant voices — all pulling you further into the unbearable waiting.

then, quietly but with a steady purpose, jaehyun’s mother appeared, her face pale but composed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and worry. she approached you slowly, her hands nervously twisting a delicate handkerchief. the two of you shared a look — a mix of unspoken grief and fragile hope.

after a long moment, a doctor came into view. his expression was gentle but heavy, the weight of what he was about to say pressing down on him. he paused, searching for the right words. “mrs. park... y/n...” he began softly, “we did everything possible. jaehyun fought so hard... but...”

his voice caught. jaehyun’s mother reached out, squeezing your hand with a tremble. “he didn’t make it,” the doctor finished quietly.

the words hung in the air like a cruel fog. you felt your breath catch, your body going numb. tears welled up again, threatening to spill. you wanted to scream, to fight, to deny this terrible truth — but there was no escaping it.

jaehyun’s mother leaned close, voice cracking, “he was so brave... and he loved you very much.”

you clung to those words even as your world shattered around you, the depth of your loss crashing in waves that stole your breath and left you broken.

the day was cloaked in a soft, relentless gray, the sky heavy as if it too mourned the loss it witnessed. the air was thick, almost tangible with sorrow, as you stood among the quiet crowd gathered beneath the somber canopy of trees. the gentle rustle of leaves whispered in the wind, a fragile soundtrack to the unbearable silence that wrapped around your chest like a vise.

jaehyun lay in his simple casket, pale and peaceful, a stark contrast to the vibrant life he once held. the flowers—white and delicate—circled the edges like a halo, and for a moment, you imagined he was just resting, that he would open his eyes and smile at you, as he always did, that same shy, warm smile that had once lit up every corner of your world.

but the cruel truth was there, undeniable and relentless. the distance between life and death stretched wide and cold, and no whispered prayer or desperate wish could close the gap.

you found yourself standing at the edge, trembling, unable to speak the words trapped deep inside your heart—words you’d rehearsed a thousand times but that now felt hopelessly inadequate. the words that should have been said, the love that should have been confessed, the promises that would now remain forever unfulfilled.

jaehyun had been your light in the darkest moments, your steady anchor when the world spun too fast. he was the quiet strength behind your smiles, the gentle hand that wiped away your tears, the voice that told you everything would be okay even when nothing seemed to be. and now, the silence he left behind was deafening.

you wished you could rewind time, hold him tighter, say everything you never dared to. tell him how he was more than just your soulmate—he was your best friend, your safe place, your heart’s quiet home. tell him you loved him in ways words could never capture, how every breath you took after meeting him was touched by the warmth of his presence.

but there was only this stillness now. a stillness that echoed with what could have been.

your tears fell freely as you traced invisible lines over the casket, a silent goodbye you could never fully voice. the weight of loss crushed you, a sorrow so vast it felt as though it would swallow you whole. you whispered his name into the wind, hoping it might carry your love to wherever he was now—hoping he could feel you even as you stood apart.

around you, faces blurred with shared grief, but none understood the depth of what you felt. how a part of your soul had gone with him, how the future you had dreamed of was now nothing but a fragile memory slipping through your fingers.

and yet, beneath the unbearable pain, a fragile seed of something else stirred—gratitude. for the moments you had. for the way he had shown you what it meant to truly care, to be seen, to be loved. for the light he had brought into your life, brief but brilliant.

you pressed your hand to your chest, where the red thread still curled softly beneath your skin—its petals incomplete but vibrant—a reminder that even in loss, some connections never truly break.

as the ceremony drew to a close and the earth embraced him gently, you stood there, broken but holding onto that sliver of hope, that maybe, somehow, in another time, another life, your souls would find each other again.

the cemetery was quiet, the world hushed as if it too was holding its breath for you. the cold wind brushed gently against your cheeks, but it was the weight in your chest that truly burned—a heaviness no words could lift. you stood before jaehyun’s grave, the simple stone etched with his name, a fragile marker of a life so painfully short.

your hands trembled as you reached out to touch the cool marble, tracing the letters that felt impossibly distant, yet heartbreakingly close. “jaehyun,” you whispered, voice breaking like a fragile thread, “i’m still here. i’m still holding on, even though every part of me wants to fall apart.”

tears spilled down your face, hot and relentless, carrying every ounce of love and sorrow you’d tried to hold inside. “i never got to tell you everything i wanted,” you said, “how much you meant to me... how you saved me when i thought i was lost... how your smile was the only light that ever made sense.” your breath hitched, the memories flooding in, both cruel and beautiful. “i’m so sorry i couldn’t save you. i’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”

you knelt by the grave, placing the last wilted petals from your bouquet on the earth, petals that mirrored the half-bloomed flower on your wrist — a symbol of the future you both dreamed of but never reached. “the red thread... it brought us together, didn’t it?” you whispered, voice barely audible, “i believe it. i believe we were meant to find each other, even if only for a little while.”

the wind picked up, as if carrying your words to him, and you closed your eyes, imagining his presence there—warm, gentle, just beyond the veil. “i’ll carry you with me,” you promised through your tears, “in every breath, every heartbeat. and maybe, someday, when this pain fades, we’ll meet again. in another life, another time.”

the ache in your chest was sharp, suffocating, but beneath it, a fragile ember of hope glowed. hope that love this true could never really die.

you stayed there long after the others had gone, speaking softly to the emptiness, to the memory of him. and as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the quiet earth, you finally stood, wiping your tears away with trembling hands, and took a slow, steady breath.

“goodbye, jaehyun,” you said, voice trembling but sure, “until we meet again.”

[lovesuhng]

estou prestes a cometer um ato de loucura, serio, queria ser normal em relação a esses dois mas não consigo

[snowball-doie]

୨୧ inspection time ୨୧

| pairing: Dom!Johnny x sub!fem!Reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI. wc: 2k. NSFW link. Daddy kink. Sex toy. Inspection kink. Vaginal and anal fingering. Edging. Slight choking. Mentions of unprotected vaginal and anal sex.

"Let's see how you did, baby girl, okay? Spread your legs for me."

Johnny was in a playful mood ever since the two of you landed in Jakarta the day prior. Being on vacation in hot weather always got him riled up because he really had nowhere to be and nothing to do aside from keeping you trapped in bed all day with something between your legs-- Whether it was his fingers, his face, his cock, or toys, Johnny was having all the fun in the world watching you cum over and over again.

"You can scream, baby, it's okay, no one's gonna hear us."

That was why he got a villa in the resort. His manager wanted to book a suite in the hotel, but smug Johnny wasn't content with that, because he knew that if he was really going to enjoy his week away with you, then you needed to be somewhere where he could do anything and everything with no worries or repercussions. So the villa it was. He fucked you in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, every single bathroom, on the back patio that had a beautiful view of the sunset he made you watch while he came inside of you.

What Johnny didn't like, however, was the break in his sex-a-thon for having to DJ at a small festival one night. He was invited to Jakarta to be a DJ, but he turned the whole event into an escape with you. So when work came, he was a bit sour. Sour enough that he thought up a way that he could still work you up and have his fun with you even while he had to stand in front of fans who were there to see him and listen to his music.

"That's a good girl. Put your skirt back on and clean yourself up quickly, or else we're gonna be late."

Johnny helped you to your feet before patting your bare ass. His idea of fun for the night was putting a toy in you that he could control from his phone that he would have up on stage with him, mixed in with all of his DJ equipment so no one from the audience would blink twice at his fidgeting hands and the grin on his face. The whole night, while on the way to the show, and while waiting for him to go on stage, you felt the toy buzz on and off inside of you, the small tail end pressed against your clit nearly making you topple over and moan in the crowd you had to stand in because there was no "backstage" area for you to watch. When Johnny ran on stage, he smiled and waved to the fans before finding his place in front of his equipment. He immediately got to work once his headset was on. The music started playing, the fans were brought to life with energy, and you squeezed your glass for dear life when you felt the toy turn on to the max setting. He was dancing up there while bouncing on his toes and waving his arms around, all while grinning at you and the fact that you couldn't have looked more obvious if you tried. He was being cruel. And he knew it. That was why he only ever edged you throughout the show. While the fans got the euphoria of beat drops and getting to see Johnny Suh sweating up close, you had your high stolen from you time after time, despite your pleading eyes in his direction.

At the end of the night, when you two were back in the villa, Johnny turned the toy on again, and he chuckled while watching you stumble to the bedroom, catching yourself on furniture that you passed by so that your shaky legs wouldn't give out completely underneath you.

"Please, I can't take it anymore," you begged with a hoarse voice.

"Yes, you can, silly girl. Come on, let me help you." He offered out his hands which you quickly accepted so that you could find relief by laying on the bed under him. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I'm glad." He stripped you of your shirt and bra. "Let's see how you did, baby girl, okay? Spread your legs for me." You did as he commanded, spreading your legs so that he could push your skirt up out of the way. "Cute," he whispered under his breath, then pressed a finger against your clothed entrance. "You made such a mess, baby girl..." As he slowly retreated his touch, you saw a bit of slick stuck to his fingertip. You'd soaked through your underwear. Fuck. "Let's get a better look..." He swiftly removed your underwear with a self-satisfied smirk. "Fuck, baby girl, how many times did I edge you?"

"Seven."

"Oh, my poor girl... I'm sorry... Can I make it up to you?"

You nodded eagerly, looking down at him to find that he was tugging on the tail of the toy to remove it from you. With a lewd pop from your pussy and a moan from your lips, the toy was pulled out. Johnny chuckled and licked the toy clean.

"You taste so fucking good. Fuck."

And once he was done with the toy, Johnny put it to the side so that he could return to you and your needs after being so cruel all night. Relief swept over you within an instant when he started rubbing his fingers and palm all over your cunt and ass, feeling you up, gauging how wet you really were, making a mess of your thighs and ass with your own slick before he suddenly slid a single finger into your pussy. Your back arched off the bed in response. Johnny kissed the back of your calves which were raised high in the air, his finger sliding out of you to rub your drenched clit, then back into you he went. Over and over again, he repeated the motions, his finger curling to hit your g-spot while he aggressively fucked you. And then he started teasing your other hole.

You popped upright onto your elbows with wide eyes that made him laugh again. "Wait, Daddy--"

"I need to inspect all of your holes to understand how mean I was tonight, baby. Don't you want me to learn so I don't do it again?"

Your face fell.

"Be a good girl and relax."

Johnny loved your ass. More than anything in the world, you figured sometimes, because it was the one thing that he thought of as his, the one hole no one but him had touched, the one thing that no matter how often he bullied it, it would never loosen or fight back against him. Both of you moaned when his finger slid into your tight ass. He was slow. He watched you carefully, waiting for a hard "No" or "Stop" to fall from your lips, but when it never came, he decided to reward you by sliding out of your ass and back into your dripping entrance with two fingers, causing you to whine and buck around— Johnny immediately put a stop to that by pinning you down with an arm pressing down on the back of your thighs that were curled up to your chest. He continued to kiss your legs while he fingered you quickly.

“I’m close—”

Much to your dismay, Johnny pulled his fingers out of you, slowly circling your clit and drifting down to rub his fingertips over your ass again.

In response to your pouting, Johnny teased, “That’s eight. You can do two more for me, baby girl, I know you can, just let me take care of you.”

So you grinned and beared it when Johnny started testing you with two fingers in your asshole and one finger in your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. He was being mean again for his own entertainment because it was so easy to get you to edge like that, but he didn’t want to edge you so quickly because once you would hit the number ten, he would likely have to reward you for being so good, and he wasn’t feeling that nice yet. So he waited. His fingers went slow, working your holes open for him while he continued to litter the rest of your body with tender kisses that made you melt under him and roll your eyes to the back of your head. Why did he have to be so good at ruining you? Why was he so good with his fingers? Why did he have to know all of your sensitive spots and the right things to whisper in your ear as his two fingers in your ass scissors outwards to stretch you.

“You think you can take me tonight?”

And there it was, Johnny’s obsession with your ass taking root in the back of your mind, urging you to nod, almost like you were actually begging him to fuck your ass once he was done with torturing you.

“Good girl.”

Once he put two fingers in each hole and continued to flick your clit with his thumb, you knew you were a goner. He won. There was nothing you could do to hide the fact that he’d worked you up all night to the point that there were no thoughts left in your head, and all that was left of you was a symphony of moans that were like music to Johnny’s ears while he pinned you down with his free hand wrapped around your throat. You wanted him— No, you needed him. It didn’t matter that he’d fucked you every which way ‘til Sunday, you needed more of him, and those last two edges he indirectly promised you weren’t going to cut it.

“Close—”

Johnny stilled his movements. “Nine. One more, baby, then I’m all yours.”

You nodded obediently, even taking his thumb into your mouth for a moment before he returned to choking you while fingering both of your holes. It felt like heaven… Four fingers moving in and out of you, hitting all kinds of different spots— Sometimes you could even feel his middle finger and ring finger brushing up against each other through the walls that separated your two holes. Part of you was tempted to ask him if he’d finger you while fucking your ass sometime. Johnny wouldn’t be opposed.

As his thumb started rubbing your clit counter-clockwise, the overstimulated bud couldn’t take it anymore, and before you could even warn him, you were cumming on his fingers, his grip on your throat tightening to make sure you stayed pinned, his brows furrowed in concentration as he helped you through your orgasm despite the fact that he never gave you permission nor did you finish your ten edges like he wanted. But then again, nothing made Johnny happier than the feeling of your asshole squeezing around him, whether it was his fingers, tongue, or dick.

After you came down from your high, you slumped— But then Johnny slapped your clit, making you jolt and whine.

“That’s for not asking permission.”

You pouted. “I’m sorry, Daddy…”

“I know, baby,” he cooed apologetically as his fingers pulled out of you and he shifted to sit fully between your thighs before he began undoing his pants. “I’m still not done, though. Be a good girl and hold your legs open for me, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Every part of you was tired and overstimulated, but you grabbed your thighs and kept them spread and pressed against your stomach while Johnny leaned over you and lined his tip up with your ass, just like he promised. A wicked smile spread across his face when he saw how fucked-out yet needy you were. Just for him. Always for him.

“Good girl.” And with that, he slowly started thrusting in.

taglist: @trash-number-one , @henderysposts , @tiredlittlevirgo , @theycallmesya ,

@markieocean , @nneteyamss , @strawberryax0lotl , @wayycoolbabylove

@k-pop-luv04 ,

[rxnyngs]

johnny hard thoughts

johnny loooves stretching you out and seeing your cute pussy struggle to take him whole. even though he’s too thick, he still doesn’t mind forcing himself deeper than you can take. but the way he talks to you in the sweetest voice makes all the pain worth it :(( softly telling you you’re taking him so good as he lifts your hips to make the angle just right to go even deeper

“does it feel good baby?”

“hmm?”

“use your words baby~”

his tone almost sounds condescending— talking to you like you’re some little girl, but you both know you’re his pretty little girl who listens and takes him so well <33

[jenosbigtoe]

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: working husband!jeno x housewife!reader

warnings: heavy traditional gender roles, breeding, unprotected sex, freeuse

jeno just loves his cute little wifey so much!

he loooves pampering you, when you’re just so good to him. wearing the cutest little dresses prancing around the house (no panties for easy access of course), always making sure his favorite meals are ready on the table when he gets home, keeping the house so neat and tidy, and letting him use you whenever he needs stress relief!! such a good wifey :(

you were just his pretty little wife! he wanted only the best for you. you didn’t need to work when your husband would just take of everything for you. all you had to worry about was taking care of him, the house, and eventually your little babies.

you let him take you whenever, wherever. you’d be at the stove, slaving away to make a warm homecooked meal for your husband to come home to. then he’d come up behind you, caging you up in his beefy arms and pressing his hardened cock against your plump ass. he’d lift your short dress up and of course, no panties! why would you ever wear panties when you have a hot hunky husband ready to take you at any moment?

he’d slide his fat cock into your tight folds as you gripped the countertop and clenched around his hot length. he would straight pound into you with no hesitation and bottom out in your dripping pussy with every thrust, gripping your waist hard and groaning out sweet praises. fuck, i love my wife’s tight pussy so much. you’d gasp in delight, arching your back and pressing your ass against his pelvis to feel him deeper inside your needy cunt.

he never wears a condom ever. what would a husband be if he didn’t fuck his wife’s pussy raw? if he didn’t fuck a fat load into her warm cunt every night? and he would never let you take birth control either. you’re husband and wife, it’s only what nature intended. he would love to knock you up, his pretty little thing. he thinks you would look so sexy and so so pretty round and pregnant with his babies. a little him and little you running around the house as you chased after them with another growing belly.

you were just such a good wife to him, always keeping his balls empty and his belly full <33

a/n: inspired by the fact ive always wanted to marry rich and be spoiled by my husband while i stay at home and be his pretty little wife 😞😞

[jenosbigtoe]

i will kiss you so hard if you write puppy!jeno

pairing: puppyboy!jeno x reader

warnings: hybrid au, breeding

your pup didn’t know his own strength :(

you’d come home and barely have one foot in the door before you get tackled by your oversized pup, tail wagging so hard his whole body was shaking with happiness. he doesn’t even realize that he’s so much bigger and stronger than you so when he tackles you in a craze of excitement, you get the breath knocked out of you and fall right on your ass. he was just so excited to see you, his favorite person in the whole wide world.

“hi baby,” you’d coo, scratching behind his ears and rubbing his back affectionately. his fluffy white tail wagged back and forth violently and his ears twitched at the contact.

he’d whine and bury his face into your chest, squeezing you into a tight hug and sitting in your lap. “missed you so much. don’t ever leave again,” he mumbled against your tits.

it was so hard to resist your sweet pup when he looked at you with stars in his eyes and wide affection for you.

especially when he got really needy, rutting against your leg, panting, drooling, tail thumping against the couch. he would look at you with those large puppy dog eyes and whimper softly. “baby please… need you so bad…”

your heart would melt at the sight. “oh pup…”

you let him take you hard and fast from behind. his hips would rut feverishly against yours, so desperate to meet his release and relieve the ache from his belly. he needed to breed you, claim you as his forever.

“pup!! so good, doing so good for me,” you moaned out.

his beefy chest was pressed against your back, arms caging you in to prevent you from escaping his relentless thrusts. his fat cock was pounding in your warm cunt so fast and so deep, heavy balls slapping against your clit and sending tingles down your spine. your precious pup always made you feel so good.

“ahhh, so close!! can i cum inside? i have so much for you, ah fuck, let me just cum inside this pussy. baby please let me breed you,” he panted from behind you, hips driving impossibly fast against yours and ear pressed flat against his head “please please please, oh god, please let me cum inside!! feel so good, fuck!!”

he was babbling from the intense pleasure building up inside him. poor pup was losing his mind. “can i? can i cum inside your pussy baby? need to cum inside, fuck, fill you up so deep. oh baby pretty please, pretty please. let me breed you <3”

a/n: freakiest shit i’ve ever written oh my 😵😵

[yougotthatbilly]

dive (m)

→ member: jung jaehyun

→ genre: fratboy!jaehyun | smut

→ word count: 9.2k

→ playlist: dive x victoria monet

→ warnings: oiud smoking (which results in a lot of smiling and laughing), oral (f receiving), petnames (just love and baby and a couple good girl’s), fingering, lots of teasing, a bit of praising| also, this isn’t the typical fratboy!au because the only fratboys i’ve dealt with are nothing like the ones i’ve read about so :)

↳ summary: Jaehyun calls shotgun

Keep reading

[moonctzeny]

cw: suggestive

after watching that second video of Stick Together on youtube I’ve been thinking... what if you were johnny’s girl and you all went to that big house for a vacation,, you start off by sitting on johnny’s side, singing your heart out with him and complimenting jungwoo on his voice,, and johnny keeps an arm around your waist but you slip away gently when you start getting bored of the karaoke machine, moving to the living room to watch taeil’s and haechan’s match...

and sure, you and haechan had been fighting over the table tennis’s rules earlier but he’s now forgotten all about it, because from the moment you came to stand next to him he hasn’t stopped winning. in fact the game ends with a 10-2 and he swirls you around in excitement, calling you his lucky charm, only putting you down when jaehyun comes downstairs clearing his throat.

he suggests you play in teams and he’s as competitive as he’s clumsy so he accidentally hits you on the side of your neck with the ball. It didn’t hurt at all but you still fall to the floor, pretending that you’re shot, and taeil laughs loudly saying that you look like johnny right now. “he’s rubbing off on me”, you say as you stand up and jaehyun is quick to respond. “I sleep in the next room as you two. I heard about that rubbing all night”, and when you notice his ears turning bright red you’re not sure which one of you got more flustered by the comment.

the room is getting stuffy and hot and the other team sucks anyways so you join taeyong who is busy making silly instagram stories. he has all these different suggestions and you coo at his enthusiasm, not even noticing his habit of wrapping his arm around whoever he makes selfie videos with. he turns his head to you to ask you for your opinion on a filter, his eyes resting on your pretty lips for a second too long yet the camera doesn’t catch it so neither do you.

and johnny watches all of this from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t say anything, because he likes to come off as secure and confident and you’re a whole ass person he has no right to restrict- but he just finished his large stella artois and you smell so good as you walk past him so he pulls you on his lap. “pay attention to me too”, he murmurs in your damp hair from the shower you had earlier, and you take off his beanie to run your fingers through his. he looks at you through those hooded eyes like you’re the only people in the room right now and he convinces you for a second so you kiss him, bitting his lower lip until he lets out a whimper. “get a room”, doyoung groans and indeed you go upstairs, having to fight the urge of dragging jaehyun with you to really give him a show this time.

[moonctzeny]

cw: smut, humiliating jaehyun slightly, voyeurism, choking, spanking

Or maybe you don’t. maybe you do take him by the hand, your fingers wrapping around his wrist and feeling his erratic pulse from his veins. johnny has a knowing smile as you ascend the stairs, his presence dominating even over someone like jaehyun, and when you finally enter your room you lock the door. “sit down”, you tell the other boy sweetly and lead him to the big armchair facing your queen-sized bed, and he digs his thumbs in the leather in anxiety.

“relax”, you coo as you slip off your shorts, taking your panties off as well. he swallows a big lump in his throat as his gaze jumps from your bare legs to your nipples poking through your shirt to johnny, who is now sprawled on the bed and looking at the back view. “I said relax, he’s fine as long as you don’t actually fuck me. I’m the boss”. “we’ll see how you feel about that when you come over here”, is johnny’s snarky reply from the bed and you only roll your eyes as you take a step forward.

jae’s hands are shaking but he still reaches out to you, his fingers rubbing the back of your thighs and cold rings sending a shiver through your spine. his hands roam around your hips, squeezing your ass and kneading your inner thighs. in a moment of bravery, he drags one finger through your wet folds, coaxing a moan out of you as he pays attention to your clit, circling his index around it. you reward him by taking off johnny’s t-shirt that you'd borrowed, exposing your upper body, and you start playing with your tits to heighten the pleasure.

“f-fuck”, he stutters and you think he looks adorable, cheeks flushed and mouth half-open in awe. you want to embarrass him even more.

“I know you have a crush on me”, you deadpan, and if his cheeks were the color of cherry blossoms a second ago they are now the shade of a cherry’s skin. “isn’t that why everyone is walking on eggshells around us two?”

jaehyun stays frozen, not knowing how he’s supposed to react against an indisputable accusation like this, johnny’s light-hearted laughter startling him. “even I know it jae. drop the act”

the guilty let his head fall with a sigh of defeat, and when you pull him by the hair for his pretty face to look at you again he lets out the most vulnerable of moans. “how many times have you pictured me naked? today when we swam at the pool? when I made you breakfast in my robe? god, jaehyun, did you jerk off to the sound of me getting fucked yesterday?”

his whine and the huge hard-on poking his sweatpants were enough of a reply, and when you see the needy tears welling up on the corners of his eyes you palm his cock to alleviate some tension. his hips thrust against you almost immediately, eyes shut tight so as to savor the feeling of your hands on the place where he needs you most. “such a pervert”

a wet spot starts to form where you suppose his tip should be, and he’s been so pliant through it all that you think he deserves to be free. holding his base, you let his dick spring free, and the length alone has you arching your back subconsciously. your mouth waters at the sight and you’re on one knee already when johnny’s monotonous voice makes you halt.

“no”

the tone is so cold and absolute that neither of you dares to question it, and you turn around to face your man instead. he looks delicious, hands behind his head and long limbs inviting you to jump into the bed with him. and you do, well, not jumping but more like crawling towards him, prowling, but you know damn well you're the prey.

you settle right over his lap, your bare heat wetting the fabric of his light-colored sweats, and you wiggle over his erection with a whine.

"why didn't you let me suck him?"

"later", he hisses as you drag your nails down his smooth chest, "we're here for you to pay attention to me, aren't we doll?"

he grabs your left boob with his big hands, his right one wrapping around your throat and applying pressure. you gasp at the numbing buzz that settles in your head, all thoughts but your boyfriend's cock jumping out the window.

"yes", you breathe out, and johnny's not sure if that's an answer to his question or just the start of your submissive blabbering, but he clicks his tongue when he sees you rubbing yourself against his leg desperately. "now you see why I come to practice exhausted, jae? my baby's insatiable"

reminded of the other presence in the room you turn your head around to see what he's up to. the view had a new wave of heat running through your naked body: jaehyun was languidly moving his fist around his member, his porcelain hands contrasting against his bright pink tip that was wet with precum. you can almost taste the saltiness, and you're tempted to ask johnny if it's 'later' already, but the sting of a slap on your thigh jolts you to reality.

"turn around for me"

you gladly do, wanting to enjoy the sight of jaehyun rubbing his cock for you a bit more and soon you've positioned johnny's girthy member to your willing opening. you whine as you let your weight guide him inside you, your body still having difficulty taking him all in. you shiver at the feeling of him stretching you out, his praises and the fullness making you push your limits a bit more. soon you start riding him, the reverse cowgirl position benefiting everyone in the room.

your boobs bounce along with you, wiggling as you start to twerk over your boyfriend's lap, and jaehyun uses all his grey matter to take a mental picture for later. eyebrows furrowed, eyes big and wet with tears, skin glistening with sweat and pleasure.

"you should see how fucking good her ass looks from this angle. and I can't describe to you how tight her pussy feels. too bad you'll have to imagine that as well."

and jaehyun can imagine it all too well, he can practically see his best friend's cock disappearing from between your legs, the wetness that drips out of you already forming a spot on the bed. you can't see johnny but you can hear the smirk in his voice. he doesn't care if his best friend has a crush on his girlfriend. doesn't care if he sees how good you look all fucked out and empty-headed. he knows jaehyun can almost feel you engulfing his hardness, that's undoubtedly the only thought in his mind as he jerks himself off with a faster speed now.

but almost will never be enough.

[moonctzeny]

Hello, friend. i am here to do a great service to the Johfam community. Might I request Johnny + praise kink?

LMAOOOOOOO LOVE U BAIIIIIIII

+

Oh my god Johnny Suh with filming. Imagine him praising y/n. Soft Dom Johnny hits different...

If drabble game still open❤ Luv uuu

Focus

johnny + filming + praise kink

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 3.5k

warnings: praise kink, daddy kink, size kink (not height but dick size), bulge kink,breath play, oral sex, cum play, filming intercourse, sex under the influence of alcohol, mentions of getting high

a/n: anon I merged your asks I hope that’s okay! This was so self indulgent it’s not even a drabble anymore 💀💀 nikki thank you sm for brainstorming with me and giving me so many ideas I hope you like this MWAH I LOVE YOU 😘💕💕💕💕

Your stomach drops as the hotel’s elevator rises to a higher floor, stumbling on your heels a little as you try to keep your balance. Luckily, your boyfriend Johnny is right there to catch you, strong arms wrapping around you, his chest against your back. He smells amazing, you think out loud, expensive cologne mixed with the smell of rum from the sweet cocktails you had downed earlier. A little tired from your night out, you let your body relax against his with a sigh, zoning out as you stare at the floor buttons glow sequentially. Johnny, however, is looking at you.

He just can’t get over how good you look tonight. Maybe it’s the drinks generating a pleasant buzz in his head that make you look so beautiful even under the rough, fluorescent lighting of the elevator. Maybe it’s the dress you’re wearing, beautiful silk covering your body down to your thighs, plunging neckline taking his breath away. His hands are on your hips, smoothing down the slightly wrinkled fabric under his fingertips, his sharp eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. Softly, he sweeps your hair away from your nape, the touch making you shiver.

You reposition his jacket that almost fell off your shoulders from the movement. He gave it to you on your way back, noticing you rub your exposed arms that were grazed by the chilly air of the summer night. It smells just like him, and it’s warm like his embrace, but that doesn’t keep you from being extra clingy to him. Even now, on your vacation, when you spend every moment of the day next to him, you still feel like you can never get enough.

The metallic door slides open, successfully awakening you from your daydream. With a hand on the small of your back, Johnny leads you to the hallway, and then towards your room. You’ve just managed to find the room key in the midst of the messy contents of your bag when your boyfriend turns you around, pinning you like a note against the door with his body.

His lips are bruising against yours, kissing you with such force that all air gets knocked out of your lungs. You pant against his mouth, wanting his tongue against yours more than you need air, and when you softly trap his plump bottom lip against your teeth your wish gets granted. He tastes bittersweet, like the rum, and fruity from your lipgloss. If your head wasn’t spinning already it sure is now, as he fits his knee between your thighs strategically. He bounces you a little on his leg then, swallowing the moans you let out as your clothed heat rubs against his quads.

“Take me”, you whisper in a slow kiss, not breaking it as you stumble inside the room, walking backwards, blindly looking for the light switch. The strong light hurts your retinas even with your eyes closed, and Johnny painfully peels himself away from you to turn on the bedside lamp instead. You’ve already worked open the first few buttons of his shirt while kissing him in the hallway, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and unveiling strong arms. Walking back to where he left you, he catches your look of admiration, mirroring it just as fondly.

He stares at you in awe as you lazily glance back at him, eyes hooded and jumping all over his naked chest. Like a reflex after seeing something beautiful, he fishes his manual camera from his back pocket, pointing it towards you. You wait impatiently as he rolls the film inside his Rollei, the crackling sound loud in the silence of the room. He chuckles at the way you wobble on the heels of your feet, waiting for him to be done already.

You flash him a drunk smile that seems innocent enough, yet your blown-out irises are full of mischief. Ordering you to sit still, he squints his eyes as he immortalizes the hungry look on your face in the film. You’re ready to pounce on him, kiss him so hard that your legs give out and the world starts spinning again, yet you cave in to his demand until you finally hear the ‘click’. You always listen to him. He loves that about you.

Retracting his face away from the camera, you can’t help but notice the corners of his eyes dropping in disappointment. You’ll look good, you always do, but the picture just won’t do you justice. It won’t capture the way your hair sticks on your temples from the condensation of the humid summer night and your risen temperature from your make-out session earlier. It won’t capture the way you say his name, drawing out the end of it as if chanting a spell that draws him closer to you. It won’t capture your heaving chest, your soft moans, the way you move your body.

It becomes increasingly obvious to him that the little token of tonight that he so desperately wants to keep needs to be in motion. And that’s when the idea hits him.

Slipping his arms around your waist, Johnny leaves the camera on the countertop behind you. His lips find the skin of your neck, sucking down the path of a visible vein, biting down to coax a symphony out of you. Your body melts in his hold, mouth gaping open in a gasp of his name.

“Do you know how fucking pretty you look?”

Your mouth stutters for a response, yet you give up any feeble attempts when he slides a hand lower, grabbing a handful of your ass. With the other he fumbles around the pockets of his jacket that’s still hanging from your shoulders, slipping out his iPhone and opening the camera app.

“We’ve always talked about making a movie together”, he whispers with a smile, knowing damn well this wasn’t the progressive horror script you brainstormed last time you got high together, “Only if you want to.”

You agree to his idea ardently, batting your eyelashes at him as you nod along to his words. With trembling fingers, he presses the red recording dot on the screen, placing his big palm that is free on the side of your face. You nuzzle against it, chasing his warm hand until his fingers graze your lips.

You open your mouth slightly, letting him thumb your lower lip. Tentatively, you let your tongue peek out to taste him, and soon the pad of his finger is pressing down the wet muscle. You suck on the digit eagerly, hollowing out your cheeks as you look at the camera, then releasing it with a loud ‘pop’. Johnny drags his thumb down, traveling past your lip line, smudging your lipstick even more. He loves to make a mess out of you.

“You look so pretty on camera, baby.”

Your face heats up with his words, but he can’t help but be honest. He zones out for a bit, admiring how good your skin looks in the dim lighting, the source reflected on your wet lips. The expensive watch on his wrist catches the light beautifully as well, looking great in the video. His two most prized possessions are in the same shot, both wrapped around his arm. With rough fingers, he prods the skin of your cheeks before grabbing your jaw, cocking your head back to look up at him.

“You’re gonna be good for daddy’s video, yeah?”

“Uh huh”

“Why don’t you get on your knees like a good girl?”

“Yes, daddy”, you manage to croak, your hands immediately latching onto the unbuttoned part of his shirt. After fully uncovering his toned abdomen with quick fingers, you start to drag your nails down his abs, sinking on your knees.

You fall in love with him some more as you hit the ground, staring up at him piously as your eyes meet his. Taking a step forward, he nudges your face naughtily with the obvious print on his white shorts.

“See what you do to me?”

You nod then, too quiet for Johnny’s liking, and start to lick on the fabric covering his clothed hard-on. The heat of your mouth combined with the soft pressure of your tongue have him shake the camera involuntarily; the stimulation was just enough to drive him insane.

With a pinch of his fingers, he zooms in on you drooling over his crotch.

“Will you take my shorts off for me, baby? My hands are a little busy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Not wasting any time, you hook your fingers under his belt, unbuckling it open. The sound of his zipper sends a wave of heat between your thighs, wetness already dripping down your bare pussy. You push his shorts down his long legs, taking his boxer briefs with you. When his length pops out in its full glory, half-hard in the air and almost hitting you in the face, your mouth starts to water.

“Take it slow. I’m a big guy.”

The first logical step to you seems to be putting your hands on him. Looking up for some silent encouragement, you wrap your hand around his dick, your fist looking unprecedentedly small compared to his member. With a steady grip, you start to jerk him off slowly, pumping blood into the vein decorating the top of his shaft and bringing him to full hardness. Proud of your work and propping your ass on the heels of your feet to gain some height on his now raised member, you start to apply more pressure on your grip. Moving from his base to his tip, you start to milk his cock, pushing precum out until he’s dripping. You gladly let your welcoming tongue catch the drops.

“Fuck.”

Johnny backs up just a bit, fist circling the base of his cock with the hand not occupied by his phone. He pushes his member upwards, then lets it fall unceremoniously over your face, highlighting how big he is compared to you. You flinch, the movement causing the straps of your dress to slip down your shoulders, giving Johnny a great shot of your décolletage.

“Language”, he scolds you, kissing his teeth as he rubs his tip against the soft skin of your cheeks. “Good girls don’t swear.”

His heart melts when you blink back at him, needy tears pooling in your big doe eyes. He wants to give you everything you want and more, being mean to you is never his intention. But when you work for something, the reward is so much greater, is it not? It always made you cum harder.

“I’m sorry, daddy…”

“How about you put this dirty mouth of yours to better use?”

You pull your head back at his request, letting his tip fall over your lips. Carefully, you start to kitten lick over his tip, salty taste sobering you up. Johnny groans from above you when you start to suck on his head, sucking his teeth when you put him in your mouth. Your tongue swipes over the bottom of his shaft as you bob your head forward, gradually fitting more of him in.

He barely understands you when you ask him how it feels, cock still in your mouth.

“Feels really good”, he sighs, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear lovingly, “I swear that mouth is something else. Always makes me feel so good.”

You gloat under his praise, swallowing around him until he hits the back of your throat. You keep him there for a couple of seconds, coaxing all kinds of guttural moans from him until your gag reflex pushes him out.

Ignoring the burning in your throat, you let the spit that has accumulated in your mouth drip over his cock. With a newfound motivation after his approval, you start to suck around him harder, hands toying with his balls at the same time.

“That’s my good girl. So fucking messy for me too, huh? Showing off for daddy’s video?”

Guilty of the accusation, you smile around him, batting your eyelashes straight towards the camera. Johnny loves the confidence, weaving his fingers through your hair to have a better grip of your head. Choosing a steady pace, he starts to thrust into your mouth, slowly at first and focusing on the aesthetics of the video before he loses his patience.

You angle your head slightly backwards, having Johnny drag his tip on the roof of your mouth. You can feel him hold his breath at the tingling sensation, and you yelp when he lightly pushes your head towards his crotch. Grabbing onto his thighs for stability, you let him lead you back and forth, use you for his pleasure. The lewd sounds of you gobbling around him echo loudly in the room, turning Johnny on impossibly much. With a final push, you find your nose buried in the trimmed hair of his crotch, eyes shut tight until he releases you to breathe again.

“Open up.”

You relax your jaw as he jerks himself off over your face, pushing out your tongue and chest for him. Johnny groans at the sight, eyebrows furrowed and mouth gaped open, his fist slapping against his base as he approaches his orgasm.

He comes hard- you can clearly tell by the way he shudders as the first ropes of cum shoot out into the air. Closing your eyes just in case, you feel the warm liquid landing on your swollen lips, overflowing from your mouth and dripping down your jaw.

“Good girl—that's a good fucking girl. Keep your mouth open for me.”

He leans down to capture your messy face better, collecting your drool and the cum that missed your tongue with his thumb. You’re surprised by his cool demeanor, how diligently he scoops it all up to then push it past your lips when he’s still rock hard like this. Knowing what he had in mind when he asked you not to swallow, you drop your jaw as far out as you can, showing your cum-covered tongue to the camera.

Johnny’s cock twitches at your little impromptu show, a deep moan bubbling up from the back of his throat when you gulp everything down. His big hand rests on the top of your head, patting down softly.

“You’re my favorite. The prettiest, hmm?”

Even in your lust-drunk mind, you can’t help but scoff at his words. You can only imagine what you look like: hair messy, mascara running, drooling from the corner of your lipstick-smudged mouth. If you could recount the moments when you truly felt your prettiest, begging for Johnny’s cock down your throat wouldn’t be on the top of the list.

You see your boyfriend frown, unsatisfied with your answer, and you lose him from his thoughts for a few seconds before he speaks up again.

“Are you ready for your reward?”

One might say that the way you jumped up on your feet in excitement, glowing under his imminent undivided attention is a little pathetic. Yet those people have never felt what it’s like to get fucked by your boyfriend. Nor has he ever made them cum as many times in succession as he has with you. Stripping out of your dress, slow enough to tease the camera, you crawl your way onto the double bed, laying there naked with your knees against your chest.

“Cute”, Johnny chuckles, kicking off his shorts and underwear completely before climbing on the bed with you. His phone is still in his hand, filming you as he finally glides his fingers through your folds. The cool metal of the rings he has on against your hot skin makes you shiver in excitement.

“I’m so wet, daddy”, you mewl, speaking his thoughts out loud. Sliding his index upwards, he starts to circle your clit, spreading your wetness around. Your body squirms between the bedsheets, and you arch your back to grind your hips harder against his hands. A curious hand cups one of your boobs, massaging the hardened nipple on top.

“I need you so much.”

“I know, angel.”

You take a moment to admire the little nail marks you’ve left on his body, and Johnny smirks when he catches you in the act. His dick is still hard as ever, red and angry and staring at you.

He positions the tip of his cock to your entrance, sliding it over your slit until you’re begging for him to just slip it in already. He could spend hours on top of you like that, yet your body is way too inviting for him to resist you any longer.

“Oh-“

If Johnny didn’t hate having you curse on camera as much, you’d have definitely spewed every profanity in mind when he inserted himself halfway inside you. He’s just so big, long and thick and stretching you out until your mind goes blank. The phone wavers along with his hand when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, not sure whether to film your lewd expression or filled cunt, awkwardly capturing your midriff instead. When he finally bottoms out inside you, hitting your cervix, you have to bite your fist to avoid any noise complaints.

Making it his main goal to have you struggle to muffle your moans as much as he can, you see him lean his upper body back, angling himself so that he rubs against your walls even harder. A moving bulge becomes visible on your lower belly as he thrusts again, showing his cock moving inside you.

“You feel it all the way to your tummy?”, he asks you, featherly moving his fingertips over the bulge.

“Yes”, you breathe out, already feeling the knot in your stomach unraveling, “you’re so big.”

“You can take it”, he reassures you, his sweet tone not matching the filthy things he says, “Such a tight little pussy but you always fit me so well.”

“More”, you plead, and when you remember your begging is being recorded, you bury your face in the pillows from embarrassment.

Something shifts in him, a newfound desire to please you igniting inside him, and he rests his phone on the bedside table, still focused on the both of you.

After throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Johnny falls forward, palms resting next to your head. With his right hand free now and itching to touch you, he decides to wrap it around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure that sends a tingle between your legs. When he starts to snap his hips against yours, setting a brutal pace that sends the bed hitting against the wall, you let out one staccato scream of pleasure after the other. You’re overwhelmed, in the best kind of way, and you can feel your climax getting closer than ever.

His concentrated eyes are burning holes into your face, relishing the way it twists as you take him. With each thrust, another word leaves his mouth.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.”

Your body is completely surrendered to him, trying to keep up with his stamina as he rails you, so lost in the euphoria that you almost miss his next words.

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say that you’re pretty.”

Your face burns at his request, feeling too shy and far gone to mouth the compliment aimed towards you. Losing his patience, Johnny grabs your jaw, turning your face sideways, towards his phone.

“Look at the camera, and say it. Say it or I’ll stop.”

Hot tears start to flow from the corners of your eyes, staining your cheeks. The mere thought of your orgasm being robbed from you has you following his demand in a second.

“I’m pretty.”

“What was that?”, he asks you to repeat, biting the soft skin under your ears, “I couldn’t hear you, baby.”

“I’m pretty!”, you repeat, louder this time. Johnny’s pace picks up more, hips snapping against your soaked thighs and enlarged cock stretching you open.

“The prettiest?”

“The prettiest, yes! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

You barely finish your sentence before your orgasm washes over you, legs twitching and pussy convulsing around him. Johnny cums again just a second later, milked dry by your walls pressing around him, his loud moans blending with yours harmoniously. He fills you up nicely, just like you asked him too, hot cum overflowing out of you as he rides out your highs.

Panting, you blindly find his lips, kissing him languidly for as long as you can take his body weight on top of you. He licks sweet nothings and praises into the skin of your neck, making your heart swell in your chest so much you think it will burst from the seams. You’re not sure how long you’d been laying like that, with him still inside you so that you’re never apart, simply enjoying each other’s presence. The drunk ‘I love you’s you exchange is the last thing you remember before you both drowse off to sleep, your little movie long forgotten now.

[haechanitboy]

philophobia, n. - a fear of love, or falling in love [an NCT fic]

as a rich, socialite party girl queen bee, you’re, honestly, a spoiled brat who gets whatever and whoever she wants. enter two boys who want something from you that you never planned to give up any time soon.

playlist: here (full credit to @hyungjunjpg)

ask the characters tag: here

table of contents;

teaser // one (particular taste) > part two, part three // two (there’s nothing holding me back) > part two // three (kid in love) > part two // four (nervous) // five (fallin’ all in you) > part two // six (lights on) // seven (where were you in the morning?) // eight (lost in japan / no promises / why) // nine (like to be you) // ten (queen) // eleven (ruin) // twelve (i need it / because i had you / three empty words) // thirteen (mutual) // fourteen (perfectly wrong) // fifteen (when you’re ready) // sixteen (crazy) // epilogue (never be alone)

bonus drabbles;

trouble in paradise (angst, slight fluff) // 

[haechanitboy]

Get to Know You

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut

contents: fingering, handjob, exhibitionist kink

pairing: jung jaehyun x fem!reader (feat. johnny seo)

notes: some people would think i write exclusively for johnjae. those people would be wrong. happy birthday jaehyun or whatever 

Keep reading

[suhnflwrs]

lowkey | johnny suh

Summary | After a break-up with your boyfriend of one year, you find yourself in bed with a handsome stranger you meet at a bar. You pride yourself in keeping your personal and professional life at a distance, never daring to mix the two. That is, until that handsome stranger becomes your new co-worker.

Pairing | Johnny Suh x Fem!Reader Genre + AU | Romance, smut + strangers to lovers, coworkers to lovers, office romance, secret relationship WC | 19.7k

Content | Mentions of alcohol and food consumption, side characters (aside from nct members) aren’t based on any specific idols, abusive language from ex, use of Y/N, reader mentions not wanting children, hickies, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, handjob, oral (m+f), creampies, recording, praising, possessiveness, breeding kink, missionary, doggy, mating press, pet names: boss, baby

A/N | I wanted to make this with multiple parts because my original idea could not be posted in just one post without exceeding the post limit. I’m not sure when the next part will be. Also, please note that I do not have any background in business nor do I know anything about how it works behind the scenes, so I tried to make it as simple as possible with the little knowledge I have heh! Let me know what you think & as always, happy reading!

— The Break Up & The Wingman.

“Paying separately or together?” 

The waitress questions politely, shoulders tensing as she asks as if she already knows what the man in front of you is going to say. There’s a hint of pity in her eyes when she meets yours, like she knew how this night was going to end the second you walked in with the man you spent the last year with. 

“Separately.” 

A quiet huff of disbelief leaves the waitress, before she quickly turns it into clearing her throat. You, on the other hand, don’t hide your apathetic demeanor. With a quick hand of your credit card to the waitress, she hastily disappears while you and your now ex-boyfriend sit in silence as those around you continue with their pleasant conversations. 

“Are you…okay?” 

Your ex partner struggles to meet your gaze, but when he does, he nearly shudders at the way you’re looking through him — like he’s nothing but a tiny spec of dust in the air. This quickly turns into a bitter and stark sound that resembles a laugh upon the realization that his words didn’t quite affect you the way he’d hoped.

“Pathetic.” He whispers under his breath. “This is the exact thing I was talking about! No emotions. It’s like speaking to a brick wall all because of your ego.” 

Your jaw slacks open and you run the tip of your tongue against the bottom row of your teeth. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head and a dry, unamused scoff leaves you. 

“Did you expect me to be sobbing in the middle of this restaurant while begging you to take me back?” 

His jaw clenches and his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. You watch as his fingers tighten into a fist and feel the table begin to shake from his knee bouncing up and down from beneath the table. “If that’s the case, you don’t know me at all.” 

With a long sip of the remaining wine left in your glass, your gaze doesn’t falter while the man in front of you seethes in anger at the sight of your calmness. Before he can respond, the waitress returns with your card and the receipt to sign.

“I hope you take this opportunity to better yourself.” The man in front of you lets out as he slips his card into his wallet and then into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Pushing his chair back, he quickly stands. “Otherwise you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.” 

Your scoff turns into a dry laugh as your ex-boyfriend pushes past the waitress and out the restaurant doors — the scent of his expensive cologne, that you once loved, now makes your stomach churn. When you look at the waitress, her eyes soften at the sight of your tiny, closed lip smile. 

“You seem too good for him.” The waitress quietly comments as you stand and grab your belongings, sliding your card into your purse. “I wouldn’t listen to a word he says.” 

“Never planned to.” You assure with a grin. “I apologize for his rudeness tonight. He’s a condescending jerk.” Pulling out your wallet, you hand the waitress a crisp hundred dollar bill as a thank you for the professionalism she upheld throughout the night despite your ex’s awful behavior. 

With a swift head shake, she bashfully pushes your hand away before claiming it was too much. 

Simply tucking the bill under the bread basket, you give her a final nod before heading towards the bar you’ve been itching to get a drink from since the conversation turned sour very early into the night. Your heels click against the marble floors until you slide into the nearest barstool. 

“What can I get you?” The handsome bartender smiles a charming little grin that makes your heart jump for a second, but when you see the silver wedding band on his ring finger, the bubble you’re in pops and you huff a small laugh to yourself.

Of course everyone else is in a loving and committed relationship, except for you.

“Just two shots of tequila, please.” You smile, hiding the disappointment of being single — once again. 

Smoothly throwing his cleaning rag over his shoulder, the bartender grabs two shot glasses and fills them up with your alcohol of choice. When presented, you quickly take the shots with ease — letting the sting slide down your throat and warm up your entire body.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, but is everything okay?”

You sigh, then scrunch your nose when you look at him. “Bartenders notice everything, huh?” 

“Well, either something’s wrong or you really enjoy tequila — and no one really likes tequila, do they?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, his broad shoulders shaking and bottom lip tucking between his teeth.

“I got broken up with tonight.” You dryly chuckle, already feeling pathetic hearing how you sound. 

“Ouch.”

“He sucks. I’m just upset I wasted a whole year with him.”

Your bartender’s lips press into a thin line. Without another word, he refills a shot glass with your choice of alcohol. Then pulls out a fresh glass before filling it up again, but this time lifting it up and towards you. “Here’s to a new start, then.” 

Lifting your glass, you mirror his movements and you both throw your heads back to let the liquid slide down your throats. You sigh in relief, your body immediately relaxing when you feel the warmth course through you. 

“Anything else I can get for you, miss?” 

Shaking your head, you give him a quick thanks before you occupy yourself by deleting and blocking your ex’s number, checking your messages, and ensuring you pace yourself to make your afternoon flight tomorrow. After a few passing guests and text exchanges between you and friends, the bartender surprises you by sliding you a martini with a single olive inside. 

“What’s this?” You ask with a small smile, stuffing your phone back into your hand bag propped on the bar’s table top.

“Courtesy of that gentleman down the bar.” Your bartender grins, pointing at a young man who gives you a small head nod and a smile hidden behind his whiskey. “Full disclosure though, he’s a good friend of mine and thinks you’re pretty but he doesn’t wanna come over unless you’re okay with it.”

“If I’m not?” 

“Then you can take the free drink and I’ll pass on a thank you. If you are, well, everything afterwards is up to you two, isn’t it?” He smirks at you, tucking his hands under his biceps.

You look down the bar, eyeing the way the bartender’s friend casually scrolls through his phone and taking reserved sips of his drink. “And what’s your friend’s name?” You ask aloud, gaze still locked on the man interested in you.

“John.” The bartender nods, watching as you take a cautious sip of your martini. “I’m Jaehyun. I thought I might as well introduce myself if I’m introducing you to a friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You chuckle, introducing yourself before taking another sip of your free drink. “Now be honest with me Jaehyun, does your friend have a girlfriend or wife waiting for him back home? I’m not a fan of getting into drama because a man can’t stay faithful.”

”He’s painfully single.” Jaehyun admits as he quietly laughs under his breath. Looking over his shoulder at his friend, he leans forward onto the bar. “Loyal to a fault, sometimes. He’s a good guy though. I promise you’ll be safe with him. Hell, I trust him with my life.”

”You sound like you’ve known him for a while.”

”Too long.” Jaehyun laughs, his cute dimples making their appearance in front of you. “So, what do you think? Wanna meet him or should I just send him your thanks?”

You pause, pondering the options. But with a sip of alcohol courage, you settle on your answer. “I don’t mind meeting him.”

“You won’t regret it.” Jaehyun playfully throws you a wink and turns to look at his friend. He tilts his head in your direction, a cheeky and knowing smile curling from his lips.

— A Very Charming Man.

The tall man at the end of the bar makes his way to you — dark gray slacks accentuating his long legs, black long sleeve button up shirt wrapped perfectly around his biceps, and a half full glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Jaehyun playfully wiggles his eyebrows after introducing the two of you, then quickly turns his attention to tend to the arrival of new patrons.

With a firm handshake, Johnny locks his eyes with yours as a kind smile curls his lips. Pulling at the barstool next to you, you slightly lean forward and thank him for the free drink he sent your way. 

“It’s my pleasure.” He replies, mirroring the way you leaned into him. With a hand respectfully pressed on the middle of your back, he rubs a quick circle before retracting his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here? Is it personal or business?”

“Both, I guess.” A tiny smile dances on your lips before you take a sip of your drink. “I had dinner with my boy—“ You pause and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Ex-boyfriend. And I leave for a work trip. This hotel is closer to the airport, hence my stay.” 

Johnny nods, then looks past the second part of your response, clearly not there to talk about work. “So, that guy you were with is your ex?” He points behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the dining area you were previously sitting. 

“You were watching me?” You tease, the tip of your tongue pressing on the inside of your cheek. Your head slightly tips to the side and you lightly swivel the stool you’re on, almost flattered by the information he let slip.

Johnny drops his head before rubbing his chin, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Pushing his styled hair back with his long fingers, his jaw slacks open just enough to see the tip of his tongue run across the back of his lower teeth. 

“Believe me, I’m not one to look at women who are already taken.” The edge of his mouth lifts into an unapologetic smirk. “But you? You’re hard to ignore.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly and you smile against your martini glass, trying your best to keep your cool while you assume his words are used on every woman he’s interested in. 

“Now I’m very curious,” Johnny lets out, palm facing down and fingers sprawled open on the bar’s counter top. “Did he break up with you or was it the other way around?”

“I wish I could tell you I did, but no,” you quietly huff, “he broke up with me.” You bitterly admit, swallowing a big gulp of your alcoholic beverage. 

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, clearly baffled at your words. He shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “There’s no way. Did he give you a reason?”

“Many, actually.” You giggle, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth with a slight head tilt, thinking back on your ex-boyfriend’s reasons behind ending the relationship. “I’m too focused on my career and not enough on him. I have to be mentally fucked for not wanting to start my own family. And he chewed me out for not having sex with him for the last three months.”

Johnny sharply sucks in air through his clenched teeth. “You’re clearly the problem. Those are huge red flags, didn’t you know that?” Johnny sarcastically comments, earning a giggle from you as he grins from ear to ear.

“Yeah, it’s totally me.” You press your palm to your chest, feigning a bit of pain as you sarcastically admit to your wrongdoings. “You’re absolutely right. You should run before it’s too late.” 

You and Johnny quietly laugh to yourselves just as his hand slowly cups under yours; testing the waters to see if you’d pull away or not. When you don’t, he leans in just enough for you to smell the fresh aquatic cologne he has on.

“If you ask me, it sounds like you scared him.” 

“What?” You giggle, unknowingly squeezing his hand. “What’re you talking about?”

Johnny grins, enlighten at the fact you asked him to explain. “Hot girls are always so oblivious.” He lets out, slightly shaking his head just before he shifts his feet onto the foot rail on the stool he’s sitting on. “You’re so sure of yourself, it scares him. Some men can’t handle that.” Johnny playfully shrugs before finally swallowing the last of his drink.

You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the condensation of melted ice slowly rolling down his long fingers. You tighten your hold on his hand, moving it on the bar top before securing it on your lap. “And where do you fall? Does that scare you, too?”

Johnny’s grin spreads, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. His large hand grabs the leg of your barstool and pulls you closer to him with ease, surprising you with his strength. With your knees fitting perfectly between his, his bold actions cause a flurry of butterflies in your torso and lustful thoughts rush straight to your brain.

“Not at all.” He confidently answers, carefully leaning into the backrest of his stool. “I find it very attractive, actually. I’m even glad he fumbled the way he did.”

“Why’s that?" You giggle as your palm gently rubs up and down the fabric over his thigh. His muscles tense up and you watch the way he casually drags his thumb against his bottom lip. 

“Well, for starters, I’m with you right now and he’s not. That itself is a win, don’t you think?” He cockily grins, straightening his posture.

You can’t help but giggle, amused and in awe by his naturally charming demeanor. “Are you always this smooth with your words?” You ask, leaning forward enough to invite yourself into his personal bubble.

You don’t expect him to mirror your actions, but he does and your breath catches when his lips are inches away from yours. 

“Only with women I’m interested in.” His gaze falls to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Do you always play hard to get?”

“Only when I don’t wanna seem too eager.” You reply, pulling yourself away. You watch the way Johnny hungrily locks onto your movements before he leans back, too.

“Eager for what?”

You simply shrug and swallow the last bits of your martini. 

“It can be a lot of things. You could be eager to have a stimulating conversation or to have someone to help you forget about your ex.” He pauses, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to devour you right then and there. “Maybe you’re eager to sleep with a handsome stranger you met at a hotel bar. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”

You bite back a smile, looking away from the stranger in front of you — almost refusing to admit how easily he saw right through you.

“Can I ask you another personal question?” 

“Sure. At this point, I’m an open book for you.” 

Johnny chooses his words carefully before he speaks. “You refused to sleep with him. I wanna believe it’s because he wasn’t good in bed, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely more than that.” You chuckle under your breath, sitting up and straightening your posture. You give Johnny a sigh, scoffing in disbelief as you recall your ex’s words that cut a little deeper than you wanted to admit. “I assume you know what a breeding kink is, right?”

Johnny’s cheeks flood with a pink hue and you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact he’s surprised the words came out of your mouth. “I, uh, not from experience but I’ve heard of it, sure.”

“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of having children of my own, but under the right circumstances the idea of breeding is kinda hot — the possessiveness, the dirty talk, the creampie. Anyway, the idea of stopping my birth control was brought up so he could start a family. I told him I like the act but don’t actually want kids but he told me I was crazy to have the kink and not actually pull through with it.” 

Johnny’s expression is unreadable when he looks at you. For a second, you think you've shared too much but he nods, intently listening to your words. 

“His pressure to let him come inside me without protection started to annoy me, so I just took sex off the table. I guess it took him 3 months of no sex to finally end it.”

“Wait,” Johnny huffs in disbelief, “he got to come inside of you and still had complaints?” Johnny runs his palm over his face in slight frustration, shaking his head. “This guy is a fucking idiot. Listen, if that had been me—” A low whistle leaves his perfectly shaped lips while he hungrily eyes you up and down. “I’d shut up. Actually, I’d let you do anything you want to me. Might even thank you if I did.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous comment. Playfully pushing his shoulder, you earn a giggle and smirk from him. 

Johnny is too charming for your own good — something you know you shouldn’t fall for; something that has ‘player’ written all over it. But you ignore what you know you’re supposed to do because who says you can’t hook up with a handsome stranger you met at a bar that you probably won’t ever see again?

“So,” Johnny quietly interjects your thoughts, holding your hand in his. “Let’s say you did have me for a night, what would you want me to do?” 

You pause, tilting your head before your lips curved into a sly smile. “I’ve been in a shitty relationship for a year with a shitty guy who didn’t know how to fuck me properly.” You lean in and he meets you halfway. With your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, his skin begins to prickle with anticipation. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

He hums a laugh that’s filled with mischief and lust. “My room or yours?” His lips part slightly, hand sliding up and down the side of your thigh.”

“Yours.”

— Room 1409.

“After you.” Johnny smiles, holding his hotel room door open and gesturing to you to step in.

You sharply inhale, slightly nervous about hooking up with a stranger after so long. Your hold tightens around the straps of your handbag before you step into the air conditioned room. You catch your reflection at the full-length mirror near the closet and you take a quick look at yourself — there’s a sheen in your eyes from the alcohol, but to your surprise your hair and makeup are still intact.

“Beautiful, aren’t you?” Johnny whispers, palms sliding over the front of your dark green satin dress wrapped around your torso when his reflection appears behind you. With a swift movement, he twists your body to face him.

You let out a giggle when you nearly trip on your heels. “You’re a real smooth talker, Johnny.”

“It’s easy when everything I say is true.” 

His warm palm slides against the side of your neck before his fingers cups your nape. As his thumb brushes your bottom lip, your heart stutters and slow, shallow breaths begin to slip from between your lips. His thumb slides down your chin before settling just under your jaw, hand loosely wrapped around your neck, but tight enough to make you melt under his touch. When your lower back meets the nearest console table, his hips press into yours and your fingers curl around his black button up, silently begging him to come closer. 

The second his lips weave with yours, your knees begin to quiver. The tang of alcohol is prominent, but you don’t mind. Not when his hand grips tighter around your throat making you whimper against his lips. 

It’s intoxicating and possessive, like you were always his.

His large hands slide down your waist and squeeze your hips just enough to smoothly lift you until you’re sitting on the wooden console’s table top. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw all while his hands roam under your dress, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and slides it down your thighs before slipping the thin fabric in back pockets of his dress pants. 

Kissing down your throat, he begins sucking hard enough to leave proof of this night. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls your skin taut to leave a deeper discolored bruise, then another, and another. Pushing your dress up and over your head, he trails down your chest to leave a badge of claim between your cleavage and when he drops to his knees, he kisses down your sternum and your hips. 

The anticipation is agonizing, yet it’s the most intense and satisfying feeling you’ve felt in a while. It’s slow, deliberate, but purposeful like Johnny can hear the way your heart pounds against your chest; like he enjoys the way you’re trembling just by grazing his lips over your skin. 

Johnny lifts your leg over his broad shoulder while his other hand pushes against your other thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. Tilting your hips, he buries himself between you — licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

You don’t realize the way you’re holding your breath, already feeling light headed as you watch him drag his lips closer and closer to your core. Your eyes flick to the mirror behind him and a spark in the pit of your stomach ignites all while excitement pools between your folds.

When Johnny flattens his tongue and glides it over your slit, your mouth slacks open from pleasure. Your fingers comb through his hair as you throw your head back, resting it on the wall behind you. 

His name stutters from your mouth, fingers tugging on his now messy and disheveled hair. He swirls the tip of his tongue over your clit and his saliva slides down, mixing with your slick. The pads of his fingers dig into your inner thighs, burying his face deeper into you and wrapping his lips around your drenched pussy, gliding his tongue up and down all while his gaze never shifts from your reaction. 

It’s embarrassing, really, how close you are. Heat pools in your lower back and soon travels up your spine and neck before it floods your face entirely. Your chest heaves up and down, already feeling dizzy from the intensity that’s building faster than you can keep up with. 

But that certainly doesn’t stop your hips from moving against Johnny when the tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, selfishly chasing the high that’s so close, you can barely hold on. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling your sultry moans that made Johnny harden under his dress pants. Unsatisfied, Johnny tugs on your wrist and pins it to your abdomen while your free hand grips the edge of the table beneath you. 

You don’t give Johnny a warning except for a string of curses that you’ve intertwined between whimpers. Your velvety walls clench tightly, and so do your thighs, as the coil in your lower abdomen snaps. Your body twitches when his tongue runs over your throbbing clit — sucking and gently rolling over it until you’re helplessly trembling from the stimulation. 

Johnny smirks against you, then tenderly pecks kisses against your soaked core. When he rises he immediately cups your cheeks, but you’re the one who lunges towards him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle, allowing your fingers to hastily undo his leather belt before tucking your hand into his dress pants.

You grin against Johnny’s lips when you feel his long, thick member hidden behind the fabric wrapped around his waist. Dragging your thumb over his leaking tip, Johnny quietly groans before his middle finger rolls over your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips twitch against him. 

His middle finger slides into you with ease, your slick coating his entire finger. When he curls his fingertips, it brushes past your sweet spot and makes your walls involuntarily clench around his digit. Your fist tightens around his shaft, jerking it up and down to mirror the way his finger slides in and out of your soaked cunt. 

“This pretty cunt can take one more, right?” Johnny whispers against your lips as the tip of his ring finger probes your entrance, easing its way through your opening and filling your space to its brim. 

You eagerly nod, colliding your lips with his. The sting of the stretch soon melts into pleasure, letting you focus on the feeling of pleasure you couldn’t even fulfill on your own. 

Your moans turn into shallow bursts of breathless air, chest rising up and down as his rough palm rubs slaps against your aroused clit. The rhythmic movement inches you closer to another burst of pleasure that makes you insatiable. 

Your lips part in a silent cry. Your leg mindlessly wraps around Johnny’s waist, hips grinding against his palm, and nails scratching the fabric over his deltoids. His head drops to your shoulder when he feels your gummy walls pulse around his fingers and his breath warms your bare shoulder with a cocky huff of laughter.

“F-fuck me,” you beg, hastily push down the waistband of his underwear and dress pants. 

His cock springs up and blood rushes to his shaft, his veins protruding against his skin, and his darkened tip leaking with his thick and clear precum. His large hand guides his tip to your entrance and pushes into you. You already feel the way your body has to adjust to his size when he slowly pops his tip in and out over and over again until every inch is swallowed by your needy little cunt.

Your fingers frantically search for the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing the top two buttons before Johnny impatiently pulls the fabric apart — buttons becoming undone as it rips from the threading and falls onto the floor.

The way your palms slide up his chest and across his shoulders to push the fabric of his shirt off sends jolts down his spine and straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. When he allows his shirt to slide off his arms and fall to the floor, he hooks his arms behind your knees then presses his palms against the top of the table console before breaking you open ensuring he’s flesh to flesh with you with every hard thrust. Your breath hitches when he slowly but harshly rocks his hips back and forth until your moans are fucked right out of you. The edge of the table bangs against the wall behind you in a rhythmic pattern to match Johnny’s deep and hungry jerk of his hips.

With every rut, he dives deeper into you — nothing but his tip sweetly kissing your cervix in the compromised angle he has you in. Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him closer and catch a glimpse of the reflection of the mirror. The way his back muscles flex with every slam of his hips makes you pant into his ear, which does nothing but gives him permission to fuck you until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you’re barely forming coherent sentences. 

Your fingers manage to tug his hair, tilting his head back before gripping his jaw and forcing his focus to shift from his hips to the way your tongue rolls over his. 

With a shaky exhale through his nose, he quickly pulls out of you and your legs fall suddenly without his support. He tugs on your forearm and swiftly manages to have his bare chest pressed against your back as he guides you to the bed. 

“Bend over.” He commands through gritted teeth, already pushing down on your shoulders. 

You don’t object. With your knees firmly planted into the plush mattress, Johnny’s thick tip pushes past your folds once more but this time your juices help glide inside of you as if he belongs there. A deep raspy groan leaves him when he bottoms out, your body jerking forward as he thrusts. His fingers tightly grip your ass for leverage just before he mercilessly ruts into you. His bare chest presses against your back, heat building between your bodies. His soft grunts fill your ears as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, causing your nails to dig into the sheets before burying your face in them. 

Johnny chuckles devilishly, gripping your elbows with both hands and pulling you back until the top half of your body is suspended over the sheets. Snaking a hand down your torso and tucking itself between your thighs, he easily finds your sensitive nub between your folds, circling it delicately. “You’re not hiding that pretty face from me.” 

You’re not sure how many times you’ve reached ecstasy with the way you’re being thrown in positions you thought you were too rigid to be in. Your body trembles, but you happily push past it with the way Johnny eagerly fulfills your request: to show you what you’ve been missing out on. 

Johnny knew when to slow it down, giving your body the most tender kisses and admiration it rightfully deserved. But he also knew when your body craved for more — and more, and more — until you’re tearing from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation that blurred pain and pleasure seamlessly. 

And you enjoy every second of it. 

As you lay there, limp and exhausted, a satisfied grin is painted on your face as his seed leaks out of you. Johnny’s plastered beside you, proud and confident as ever. You cuddle into him, feeling his chest rise and fall — clearly still reeling from the dopamine rush that came with spending the night with you. 

“I haven’t felt this amazing in years.” You sigh, fingertips gently running up and down the crevices of his abdomen. 

“Glad to be of service tonight.” Johnny chuckles as his lips brush against your forehead. “Glad your ex fucked up the way he did.”

“Loser behavior, I guess.” You happily sigh. “Though, I do wish I could see the look on his face if he ever saw your cum dripping out of me. He hated the idea of my other exes doing it. Imagine how pissed he’d be that I let a stranger do it.”

“Why don’t we find out?”

Your head shoots up, looking at him in confusion. “What?” You awkwardly laugh. “What are we gonna do? Invite him here to see this?”

“Not quite.” 

Johnny swings his legs off the side of bed and fishes for his phone from the pocket of his pants. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, he parts your thighs and it’s astonishing how quickly you comply. Lifting his phone in view, you quickly catch on to what he has planned. He presses the big red button to film between your thighs, fingers sliding his seed into you. When he lifts his coated middle finger to your lips, he ensures the camera only catches the lower half of your face, as you gladly suck on his digit until he ends the recording. 

“What’s your ex’s number?” Johnny questions as the pads of his fingers patiently wait for your reply.

You repeat the number that you’ve unfortunately memorized by heart and watch him type it into his phone. “Won’t he just have your number if you send him the video?”

“It’s a good thing I’m changing it when I get back home.” Johnny smiles as he lays next to you. He hovers his phone, ensuring you can also see the screen and what he’s typing. 

Thanks for leaving her, loser. Never would’ve met her at the bar if it weren’t for you. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. I’ll just breed her until the only name she knows is mine. 

The swoosh sound on iMessage is heard and the delivered notification pops up under Johnny’s message. He silences his phone and tosses it to the side. 

You giggle, swinging your leg over him before straddling his lower abdomen. With his palms sliding across the sides of your hips, he grabs a handful of your pillowy rear — your skin spilling between his fingers before his tip slides into you again, lifting his hips and sinking into you until you’re stuffed full. Pressing your lips to his jaw, you trail soft kisses until you reach just below his earlobe. 

“You should keep your promise. Unless…” you tease between kisses, “you’re all bark and no bite?”

Both you and Johnny miss the flurry of angry texts flooding Johnny’s phone, but neither of you care; not when you’re being shown pleasure in ways you could never imagine until the break of dawn.

❁❁❁❁❁

Who tf is this?

Fucking answer me you little shit!

[10 missed calls]

You’re a little bitch. ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.

[6 missed calls]

When I find you I swear to god I’ll beat your ass

[4 missed calls]

I hope you get a fucking STD

❁❁❁❁❁

Your internal clock and the sun beaming into the room from the balcony wakes you from your sleep. There’s a delicious ache between your thighs and it takes you a second to process your surroundings, until you’re made aware of the arm that slides across your bare torso and effortlessly pulls you closer to his heated body.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of sneaking away before saying goodbye.” Johnny chuckles — soft, tired, and raspy. Nuzzling the tip of his nose into your shoulder, a gentle kiss adorns your skin. 

“I was gonna leave a note.” You playfully counter as your fingers mindlessly rake through his thick and messy hair. “But now that you’re awake, guess I can tell you that I should probably head out to let you pack for your flight back home.” 

Johnny groans, lifting his head to see the pieces of clothing haphazardly thrown around the room along with his suitcase wide open with used clothes piled on each other. 

“Thank you for last night, John.” You quietly let out, hand gently pressed against his cheek to carefully guide his gaze back to you. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure.” 

Placing a quick kiss to your cheek, you take that as your cue to get ready to leave. His eyes watch your movements intently as you slip on your dress from last night and search for your underwear amongst the pile of clothes. 

“Where’d you put my underwear?”

A tiny snicker leaves his lips before a smug expression washes over him as he leans back into the headboard. When you look at him, he gives you a tiny and innocent shrug. “Maybe if you stay while I pack, it’ll show up.”

You roll your eyes, jaw slacking open with a tiny grin. Your eyes flick to his white long sleeve shirt he wore last night and you swipe it into your hand before wrapping it up around your waist. 

“You can keep that and I’ll take this as a memento.” You giggle, making your way to his side of the bed. “Remember, it’s silk. Don’t make the mistake of throwing it in the washer. Hand wash, only.” 

Cupping the sides of his face and tilting it in your direction, you place a kiss on his forehead — his eyes fluttering shut at the softness of your lips while his arm wraps around your waist. 

“Have a safe flight home.” 

Johnny chuckles softly, his arm pulling you in effortlessly and your knees press into the side of the mattress. “You know…I’m a fast packer.”

“Yeah?” You giggle. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“One more time for old times’ sake? I’ll let you be on top this time.” 

Letting out a hum and pretending to contemplate the tempting idea, you gently brush your thumbs over the space just below his eyes before a kiss presses onto his lips. 

“Let’s have fate decide when we do this again.” You whisper in the space between your lips. “In the meantime, I have a meeting to prep for and you have luggage that needs to be packed. Not to mention, a flight you need to catch.” 

Johnny sighs in defeat, then a beat of silence follows before speaking again. “That’s fair.” 

Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, Johnny gives your skin a quick peck then brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. Cupping your face with a gentle touch, he pulls you in for a kiss — one of gratitude and farewell all wrapped in the slow movements of his lips.

When you pull away, your forehead presses against his while you catch your breath.  

“Take care, Johnny.” You finally let out, pulling away as he playfully tugs on your fingers. 

When you finally get enough distance, your hand drops to your side and Johnny’s arm drops onto the sheets covering his bare lower half. Giving him a final wave goodbye, you grab your belongings and head out into the hallway, feeling renewed. Like a night away from your usual strict routine made you genuinely happy — something you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sorry, too busy fucking her dumb to get back to you. 

She feels waaay too good to only go one round…or two…or three…

Also thought you should know Y/N says thanks, you helped her realize how bad you are at sex. 

And the name’s Johnny, bitch.

[this contact has been blocked]

— A New Place & A Reintroduction.

“So…” Mina sheepishly rocks back and forth on her heel, the wind whipping through her thick dark hair. Her fingers grip the handles of her handbag, the leather fabric tapping against her knees as you two wait near the front entrance of the high rise building you’ll be working in for the next year. 

“So…” you repeat suspiciously, waiting for Mina to stop beating around the bush and ask you what’s on her mind. 

“That hook up…” she finally lets out, quickly scanning your features for any reaction that would somehow tell her who it was with.

“Mina.” You sternly reply, giving her a look as if to tell her to keep your personal business far from your professional life. “Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines, childishly stopping her feet. “One minute I’m thinking you’re getting proposed to at dinner and the next you tell me you’re single and hooked up with a stranger.”

You sigh, already regretting telling her about your night of fun while waiting at the gate for your flight a week ago. It’s clear to you that this has been stewing in the crevices of Mina’s brain, too scared to ask more details knowing how privileged she is to even hear that you hooked up with someone. 

“It’s like something possessed you. It doesn’t sound like you at all:” She quietly comments, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I love it, I’m just surprised. Do you know his name at least?”

Before you could reply, an older man waves and catches your attention. It takes you a second to realize it’s the manager you’ve been in contact with for the past few months — Mr. Choi. He appears with an all too excited grin on his face, already telling you he’s more than excited for this partnership between your home company and the one you’re temporarily transferred to.

“It’s nice to see the both of you again! Come on in, I’ll show you around.” He smiles, leading you towards the bright lobby of elevators. “I’m sorry to hear about the delay in furniture deliveries for the two of you. I’m hoping the hotel suffices until then.” 

“Oh it does!” Mina interjects happily, enjoying the room service at the expense of the company account. “This is by far the best hotel we’ve been in and, trust me, we’ve been in a lot.” 

A deep chuckle rumbles in Mr. Choi’s chest, arm extending out between the elevator doors as it opens then gesturing for the two of you to step into the cramped metal box. 

“We take up the top two floors. Beautiful view over the city, I should add.” Mr. Choi says, sounding a lot like a real estate agent than anything else at the moment. “Our floor is split in two, the east wing—” Mr. Choi looks at you. “Is where you’ll be. The west wing—” Mr. Choi looks at Mina. “That’s where you’ll be.” 

When the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the floor to ceiling windows providing natural lighting that spills through the central lobby. To the right of you, you’re met with the two receptions who stand upon seeing their manager.

“Good morning, Mr. Choi.” They greet in unison before their eyes flick towards you and Mina. 

Your sights fall towards their lanyard and the identification card that is used to enter the many doors of the building. 

“Chenle, Jisung,” Mr. Choi greets, straightening his posture. “I’d like you to meet the newest members of our team — Miss Y/N and Miss Mina.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, welcome to the team!” Chenle says, clasping his hands together. “Let us know if we can do anything to make the transition smoother.” The younger man next to him simply smiles and nods before excusing himself when the phone rings, pulling his attention there instead.

You and Mina give the two younger men a warm smile and a nod, but your verbal appreciation is cut short when you’re gestured towards the west wing by Mr. Choi, who immediately begins spewing out the renovation plan to improve the floor even more. 

As you’re swept away, you quickly turn your head to let out a quick thank you to the two men you just met. As you do, you catch a glimpse of disdain on Chenle’s face who seems to be burning a hole in the back of Mr. Choi before Jisung playfully punches his bicep to get him back into work. 

Just past the restrooms, you see the heavy glass doors at the end of the hallway open up. A man with dark rimmed glasses, a white button up shirt, and dark slacks with his hair perfectly parted into a three-fourths part walks out, his gaze focused on the iPad he’s holding. 

“Ah, Doyoung!” Mr. Choi loudly greets, starling the man who stops in his tracks. 

The man, you now know as Doyoung, mutters something under his breath before gripping the tablet in his hand and pushing the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Meeting him halfway down the hall, Mr. Choi introduces you and Mina. 

“Miss Mina, Doyoung is the person who is going to show you the ins and outs of the west wing.” Mr. Choi informs, watching Mina firmly shake the hand Doyoung extended. 

“Can’t wait!” Mina says enthusiastically.

“C’mon,” Doyoung quietly says, tilting his head towards the glass doors. “I’ll show you to your office. It’s right next to mine.” 

“And Doyoung,” Mr. Choi interjects. “Introduce her to the rest of the team and catch her up, will you?” 

You watch Doyoung sharply inhale. His posture fully straightens before a tight lipped smile forms on his lips. 

“I will.”

You watch as your friend disappears behind the foggy glass doors and you’re now left alone with Mr. Choi, analyzing the way his eyes burn intimidatingly while he watches the glass door come to a full close. When he looks at you, they drastically soften and the playful demeanor he’s always presented to you reappears. 

“Let me show you to your office.” He nods and the two of you backtrack, passing the central lobby and towards the east wing. Walking past conference room one and two, that’s directly across from each other, you’re guided to a vacant office room that’s filled with sleek, minimal furniture and painted with boring white walls that you’re able to see that’s not covered windows. 

“You’re right, the view is great.” You let out, making your way towards the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city below you. 

“It’s the best!” Mr. Choi says proudly, as if he’s the one who made it that way. “Across the hall is one of our best employees, but don’t tell him that. He can get a little cocky. He’ll be your point of contact to help you adjust, though he’ll be reporting to you.” 

You look out the wide picture window that gives you the perfect view inside the unoccupied office across from yours. The same furniture you have is rearranged into a logical design you learned would be efficient for productivity. On the desk, a stack of Manila folders balanced next to his office phone and a notepad with a few bullet points scribbled on the top of the white lined sheet.

“If he’s the best like you say he is, I’d say the confidence is well deserved, no?” 

Mr. Choi chuckles, watching as a disarming smile stretches across your face. “A little humbling would do him good, but I suppose you’re right.” An awkward beat of silence follows before he speaks. “Let me show you the break room.”

You follow Mr. Choi down the hall and enter the large break room with a few lounge chairs and counters filled with a variety of drinks and snacks for anyone’s enjoyment. 

“Didn’t expect everyone to be in here.” Mr. Choi said sternly, scanning the room filled with employees who shamefully looked down at the floor beneath them. 

The contrast of the chattering then and the dead silence now is stark. You watch as some employees uncomfortably shift from one foot to another while others finish up making their morning coffee. Then Mr. Choi clears his throat, adjusts his posture to his full height and crosses his hands against the small of his back. 

“I’d like you all to meet the newest member of our team, Miss Y/N.”

Their sights land on you all at once making you feel uncomfortable beyond comparison. You manage to give them a small wave and they mirror your movements, a quiet wave of ‘hi’ and ‘hellos’ filling the space. The tension is so thick you could slice it with a knife. 

“Looking forward to working with you all,” you smile, quickly pulling yourself together — straightening your posture, lowering your hands to your sides, and taking a half step forward. 

Mr. Choi takes a full step forward, now placing you slightly behind him. “I’m sure you all have work to start on, right?” He says, an edge to his voice to grab any semblance of power in front of you. 

With another step forward, you’re now next to Mr. Choi. The uncomfortable look on the employees face is prominent, making you realize Mr. Choi is purposefully ignoring it. 

“I’m sure they’re fueling for the day ahead.” You interject, looking at Mr. Choi dead in the eyes, something you’ve learned from your years in this career. “Don’t we all need a little moment to ourselves and a nice cup of coffee before diving into piles of work?”

You flash Mr. Choi another placating smile with your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder for a second before retracting it next to your side.

“I mean, I know I do.” You chuckle, looking at the rest of the employees. They quickly catch on to your point and each one of them gives an agreeable head nod. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. Choi quickly agrees, palm of his hand rubbing the back of his flushed neck. “Again.” He quietly chuckles, sliding his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

Mina appears beside you and so does Doyoung, hand still holding the iPad but this time, glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his collared shirt. Doyoung does his part in introducing Mina who, like always, greets with the utmost enthusiasm. 

Mr. Choi’s phone rings, excusing himself to the corner of the room as he takes the call. You take this opportunity to get the names of some of the employees to begin building rapport with them after the awkward initial meeting. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch the way Mr. Choi snaps his fingers to catch Doyoung’s attention, his phone still pressed to his ear. He whispers something into the young employee's ear and you know it’s about you when Doyoung’s eyes lock onto yours. Then just like that, the older manager disappears out of the break room and into a conference room for more privacy to pace back and forth.

With a small wave goodbye, the employees disappear into a bigger room filled with cubicles separating them into smaller spaces. Doyoung follows suit, making his way out the door before you stop him.

“Uh, Doyoung—” you call out, stepping towards him. “Can I speak with you…in my office?” 

Surprised with your request, he nods hesitantly before both him and Mina follow you. Closing the door, Mina leans against your desk while cranning her neck to take in the boring look of your new space. Doyoung stands in the middle of the room, patiently waiting.

“What’s the deal with the tension between everyone and Mr. Choi?” You blatantly ask, catching the employee in front of you by surprise. 

Lifting his hand to the back of his neck, he gently scratches his prickling scalp. His mouth falls open, only to close again. 

“Tension?” Mina squeaks, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s tension?” 

Doyoung sighs, balancing his iPad on the arm rest of a nearby sofa. “He’s fairly new.” Doyoung begins to explain. “And utterly incompetent at doing his job. A lot of us feel that he’s on a constant power trip and it doesn’t help when he belittles anyone that isn’t a specialist, analyst, or consultant.” 

“How’d he get the job?” Mina questions, reading your mind and saving you from asking the question yourself. 

“Connections.” There’s an edge of annoyance in his tone. “Apparently, he’s friends with the founder. Though, I highly doubt the founder knows how shitty Mr. Choi—”

The two loud knocks on your office door startle the three of you before the door swings open and you see the subject of your conversation step through the door frame. Behind him stood a 6 foot 3 man with his dark locks slicked back and a killer smirk lifted from the corner of his mouth, lowering his disposable coffee cup from his lips when he locked with your gaze. 

“John, this is Miss Y/N.” Mr. Choi introduces, stepping forward and causing Doyoung to step back, settling himself next to his point of contact that’s now lingering by the window and snapping photos of the view. “Miss Y/N, this is John Suh. He’ll be working with you to ensure you’re acclimated to the new environment. He’ll assist you in whatever you need and will be reporting to you as well.” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. A knot tightens in the pit of your stomach, anxiety rising when you remember the night you shared — expect now he’s not just a handsome stranger you met at a bar, he’s your co-worker; one you’ll be working closely with for the next year. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny interjects with a smile, feigning obliviousness and giving you a firm handshake like the one he gave the night you met. 

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.” You nod. “I heard you’re the best guy here. I have nothing but high expectations.”

Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, fingers holding his coffee cup by its rim. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good.” You clear your throat, your hands clasping together just below your belly button. “We should probably catch up on the recent projects coming up.” 

“We should do the same,” Mina says as she points her finger between the space separating herself and Doyoung. “Walk me through the campaigns and I’d like to see data—”

Mr. Choi chuckles — an unamused laugh that makes a knot twist in your stomach. You didn’t like the way his hand wiped over his mouth or the way he shook his head slightly as he scratched over the stubble he didn’t shave before coming to work. 

“What’s funny?” You question, cocking your head to the side in confusion. You look over at Doyoung and take a sharp inhale, bracing himself for the comment the manager is about to make. 

“I can’t help but think we’re overestimating the value of our creative department.” Mr. Choi says ignorantly with a dismissive shrug to his shoulders. “I mean, anyone with a smartphone can upload a post to social media.” 

Your blood boils, heat rushing to your cheeks and a slight ringing in your ear. Between the surprised look on Mina’s face, the second hand embarrassment in Doyoung’s, and Johnny's tense expression written all over his face, you can’t not say something. 

“But what do I know right?” Mr. Choi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and an oblivious laugh leaving his lips. 

Johnny steps forward to defend Doyoung’s team, something he’s done countless times before, knowing Doyoung won’t ruffle feathers with a man as ignorant as Mr. Choi. 

But you speak before he can.

“Sir, I hope you’re not insinuating our creative team doesn’t provide an essential role to this company?” You let out, voice calm and steady. “I’d hate to see when a poorly thought out campaign or a post highlighting a failed strategy goes viral. It wouldn’t reflect well on the company or the founder, would it?” 

The mere mention of the founder turns Mr. Choi’s face pale, letting your words sink in before uncomfortably clearing his throat. Your eyes lock with his, refusing to be the first person to look away. Mr. Choi feels the tension, beads of sweat forming on the nape of his neck before looking down; your comment about the founder rattling him more than anything. 

“You’re right.” He manages to let out, rolling his shoulders back in a lame attempt to recoup. “I will let the four of you get back to work. Please let me know if you need anything.”

And just like that, with no apology, Mr. Choi turns on his heels and walks out of your office and straight to the elevators.

“Well that was fucking rude,” Mina huffs. “What kind of manager says that about any department?”

“An incompetent one.” Johnny scoffs, then quickly apologizing on Mr. Choi’s behalf. “We learned to ignore a lot of his comments. I’m sorry you had to see that first hand.”

“And so soon.” Doyoung adds, his eyes still glued in the direction of your office door. 

“Just ignore him,” Johnny breathes, shoulders finally relaxing as he turns to you, then to Mina. “We have a solid team and despite us not listening to him or anything he says, we don’t get reprimanded harshly when we actually do our job well and the higher ups are happy with the results.”

“This is gonna be a shitshow.” Mina exhales, then turns to you with her hand on your shoulder and a playful grin stretched across her face. “Good luck, you’re gonna need it more than me.” When she turns to her point of contact, she pulls him towards the door by his bicep. “C’mon Doyoung! We have a lot to go over.”

And just like that, you’re alone with Johnny. Thick silence fills the room and a prickling under your skin makes you shift on your feet. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Johnny arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as he lifts his disposable cup to his lips. “How’ve you been?”

“Great.” You nod, quickly clearing your throat. “So about those upcoming projects—”

“You go straight to business, don’t you?” Johnny chuckles, dropping a seat on the arm rest of a nearby couch. “I remember you being… less serious than this.” He pauses, crossing his wrists over each other as it languidly rests against his thigh. “In fact, I remember you being more relaxed than anything else. So relaxed, you could barely open your eyes when my tongue—”

The palm of your hand flies over his mouth, pressing your skin against his soft and plump lips and nearly knocking the coffee cup from his hand. With a quiet shush, you slowly retract your hand and shut your office door before closing the blinds that look into the hallway.

“Listen, John.” You sigh, forehead pressed against the frame of your door before you turn to look at him. “Whatever happened between us stays between us and in the past.” 

Johnny cocks his head, listening intently to your words. 

“From this point, everything is strictly professional. No more flirtatious looks or those little smirks. None of that.” 

Johnny can only chuckle. Not dismissively, but amused. The tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth. Setting his nearly empty cup on the coffee table, he stands to his full height, towering over you. 

Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing the words you meant to say. 

“You’re sure?” Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he takes a few steps toward you and traps you between his frame and the door you just backed into.

You simply nod, slow and unsure, but you hoped Johnny didn’t notice the presence of hesitation. His gaze swipes over your blown out pupils staring back at him before dropping to the untucked collar of your dress shirt. His long fingers gently adjust the fabric and your breathing halts, almost afraid any type of movement would silently tell him about the fire ignited in the pit of your stomach and the tingle between your thighs. 

When he pulls away, he grabs his coffee cup by its rim and simply flashes you a charming, easy going grin. 

“I’ll follow your lead, boss.” He nods once, then goes quiet for a beat too long before clearing his throat. “Do you, maybe, wanna get out of the way so I can show you those reports?”

Heat from embarrassment prickles your underarms, your senses suddenly feeling heightened as you pathetically regain the confidence to finally move out of the way and open the door behind you. The whiff of newly brewed coffee whips through you, the smell going unnoticed until now. The typing of keyboard keys and the playful banter between the two receptionists suddenly feel louder, but don't drown out the heartbeat you hear pounding against your chest. 

Johnny snakes from behind you, unlocking his own door. Lavender scent hits you by surprise as you step in; the mist from a nearby diffuser spritzing in a calculated pattern. You watch as Johnny moves behind his desk, fingers working fast to bring up the most recent reports. He glances at you, then pauses his movements. 

“You know you’re really awkward for someone who wants to move past our night of fun.” Johnny chuckles. “If you don’t want anyone to suspect anything, don’t be suspicious.”

“This is new to me.” You admit, dropping your arms to your side. 

“This position or what happened between us?” 

You roll your eyes and a tiny smirk threatening to make its way onto your face. “Working with someone I previously hooked up with.” You quietly say, moving behind his desk to see his computer screen.

He nods, eyes falling back onto the electronic files. “I was worried for a second that you didn’t know how to do your job.”

“I do it very well, thank you very much.”

“So I’ve heard.” Johnny remarks, opening up the files most relevant to this quarter. He looks up at you and you catch a glint in his eyes as a strand of your hair falls before you quickly swipe it away — Johnny being completely enamored by your presence before he could stop himself.

“John.” You softly call out. “The reports, please.” 

“Huh?” 

You shyly smile, your thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks before gently turning his attention back to his computer screen. “The reports, Johnny. Walk me through them, please.” Slowly retracting your hand away from his cheeks, you watch a wide grin spread across his face.

“You got it, boss.”

— A Note & A Future Lunch Date.

Two months into acclimating to the new company and your new partner, you realize a few things: Mr. Choi is absolutely not fit for his managerial position, Mina has been on a personal mission to get Doyoung out of his introverted shell and stand up to anyone who downplays his intelligence, and Johnny is incredible at his job — so incredible, you’re wondering why he isn’t in the manager’s position himself.

In fact, you find yourself thinking about Johnny a lot — a lot for someone who wants to leave the hook up in the past. The way he tilts his head and holds eye contact when he’s listening to someone speak, how his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek right before his thumb brushes his bottom lip when he’s focused on the task at hand. And the way his fingers curl around—

“Any questions for us?” Johnny’s voice sears right through your thoughts and pulls you right back next to him in the boardroom with pairs of wide eyes staring at the two of you. 

“Yes.” The lanky old man that Johnny nicknamed Mr. Cautious speaks up, shifting in his seat as he stares at the color-coded line graph behind you. Using his pen to point behind you, you and Johnny slightly turn in the direction he’s pointing in. “How are you two confident your sales are projected to increase? I mean, not too long ago, this company barely had revenue coming in a few months ago.”

“Rest assured that our predictions are based on the upward trend we’ve been seeing in the most recent weeks. New strategies, more effective and efficient I may add, have increased our numbers drastically and immediately.” You share, taking pride in the strategic plan you and Mina helped implement since arriving — no thanks to Mr. Choi who insisted on keeping the mess of a strategy already set in place until you kindly reminded him the reason behind your transfer.

“I get that, but—” Mr. Cautious interjects, hesitation written all over his face. 

“I understand the risk you’re taking.” You reassure, now understanding the reason behind Johnny’s nickname for the man in front of you.

“If I may add,” Johnny interjects, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks and straightening to his full height. He glances over your way before looking straight at Mr. Cautious. “The company Y/N is transferring from has one of, if not the best, business strategies that we've seen in years — the same strategy we’ve adopted just recently and the numbers don’t lie. You can choose now or you can choose to wait, but I fear waiting won’t have much benefit to it.”

“Though I’m sure you already know that, sir.” You flash a charming smile, before glancing over at Johnny who follows your lead and plasters a grin on his face. “You’ll find standard contracts in the folders as well.” 

In unison, those in front of you pull out the contract and look it over before signing away. A knock on the conference room door pulls your attention before Mina’s head pops in just in time for her and Doyoung’s time slot with the group. Johnny quickly collects the contracts before you both quickly grab your belongings, say your goodbyes with the crowd in front of you, and head out into the hallway.

“All contracts accounted for.” Johnny smiles proudly. “Even from Mr. Cautious himself.” He lifts his fist to give you a fist bump and you reciprocate, a little ritual you two have when you both have a successful day. “I’m going out for lunch, do you wanna join me?”

“I’m okay. I was planning to use my lunch break to catch up on my sleep.” Cupping your cheeks with the palms to warm your cold hands, you turn to glance at the surprisingly comfortable couch in your office. 

“I’m gonna guess you spent the night working.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head like a disappointed father. 

“You guessed right.” You giggle. “But before you go, I wanna thank you for having my back in there.  It’s nice to know I have someone I can rely on.”

Johnny smiles, endearingly stroking the back of your head. “We’re a team, you don’t have to thank me.”

”Sure, but I think it’s still worth noting.” You gently squeeze his arm. “Even if Mr. Choi refuses to admit it to your face, you’re amazing.”

“Well, since we’re dishing out compliments,” Johnny steps forward and leans towards your ear. “I’m glad you're here. You make coming to work worth it.”

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide at Johnny’s words. “Enjoy your lunch John. I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

Johnny nods, watching you disappear into your office. You catch his eyes from your window and you give him a small wave before shutting the newly replaced blinds that blocked out the hallway lights. Situating yourself on your sofa, you can’t help but replay Johnny’s words in your head until you drift off to sleep.   

❁❁❁❁❁

The alarm on your phone interrupts your sleep to let you know that you have 15 minutes left of your lunch break. Stretching your arms over your head, you stare at the blank ceiling to help yourself actively wake up before sitting up on your sofa.

To your surprise, you find a wrapped sandwich, an unopened bag of your favorite chips, a bottle of water, and a handwritten note from a memo pad you have on your desk is sitting undisturbed on the coffee table in front of you.

It’s your usual order. You need the energy :)  - Johnny

You make your way over to your blinds, opening it up and seeing Johnny sitting at his desk chewing on the end of his covered pen before his eyes meets yours. He gives you a small wave before grabbing his notepad and jotting something down then lifting it up for you to read.

Did you sleep well?

You quickly look behind you for the identical notepad and pen to write your response.

Yes, I did :) Thanks for the food, too.  I owe you a lunch date this week.    

Holding up the notepad to the window, you watch the way Johnny’s eyes scan your writing and a genuine smile stretches across his face. Pressing his pen to the paper, he writes a quick response and lifts the notepad to his chest.

I’ll hold you to that :)

You quietly laugh to yourself, then nod at Johnny, silently agreeing to his words. Johnny gives you a wicked smirk accompanied by a wink before his attention turns to his ringing phone. You take that as your cue to quickly scarf down your lunch as you clear out your email’s inbox, ensuring to tuck Johnny’s note into your wallet for safe keeping.

— A Rainy Day.

Four months into transferring and the routine of your position is deeply rooted into your daily life. Rolling your neck, you briefly shut your eyes in an attempt to relieve the strain on your eyes from staring at your computer screen all day. 

It’s one of those days you haven’t left your office — meeting with people virtually, ordering lunch through an app and one of the two receptions delivering it to you to get a second away from the ringing of their phones, staring out your window at at the pouring rain, and above all being isolated from the one person that effortlessly eased your work stress. 

Johnny’s been cooped up in his office for the same reason you are — meeting with overseas partners and clients virtually. You’ve caught him a few times, pacing back and forth in his attempt to stimulate his brain to prevent him from falling asleep during boring small talk he doesn’t care about. 

You try your best to refocus on the reports you have left to do before your work day ends. Your eyes gloss over yet another detailed and excruciating report, scanning for information that would be remotely beneficial to you at the moment. 

When you finally come across a discrepancy, your body jolts to attention and you use this as an excuse to save both you and Johnny from another minute of boredom. 

Your hand flies to your office phone’s receiver to call your partner in the room across from you. Two rings pass until Johnny’s voice is heard on the other line.

“Hey boss, finally caved in to admit you missed me today?” He jokingly says, leaning into the backrest of his chair and tucking an arm under the other. 

“No, I—”

“Too lazy to walk in here yourself?” He quickly interjects, head flying up when he sees you through the hallway windows when you stand from your seat, giving him a look that feigns annoyance. In return, Johnny gives you a quick, playful wink as he holds the phone’s receiver to his ear. 

“Or did you call to see if I missed you since I’ve been cooped up in this stupid office all day without my favorite person to keep me company. The answer is yes by the way, if you care.” 

His words, admittedly, make your heart soar. Your lips break into a smile before you could stop it. “Then stretch those long legs of yours and make your way over here. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Something?” His brow quirks up and a little smirk lifts from the corner of his mouth. “Something delightful, I hope.”

“Not quite.” You hum and scrunch your nose, watching his lips fall into a frown as he hears your words. “It’s about the reports you sent me.”

“Uh oh, I’m not in trouble, am I?” His bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout, swiveling his chair side to side as he holds your gaze through the glass. 

“You will be if you don’t make yourself useful and get over here.” You lift a finger and curl it, motioning him to ‘come here’ before ending the call. 

Sauntering over, Johnny appears in your doorway within seconds. “Your insane attention to detail will be the death of me.” Johnny complains, making his way over to you. “What did I do wrong boss? And go easy on me, my ego is still recovering from the last time.”

“Oh please, last time only I pointed out your typos before sending it off to the execs and you acted as if I cursed your entire family.” You roll your eyes. “You’re being so dramatic. Anyway, lucky for you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a question about the drop in sales from here—” You point at your computer screen, your manicured nail pointing to the drop in numbers on the table in the report. “—to here and it keeps repeating every year. I’m not planning on having it repeat again, so do you have any idea what happened?”

Johnny makes his way behind you to get a better look at the screen. Bending forward, one hand presses on top of the wooden table top of your desk while the other rests on the top of your backrest. With his cheek so close it could brush yours, you could smell a whiff of his cologne — the same one from the night you first met him. 

He hums and mumbles something quietly under his breath before the hand behind you goes over your shoulder and traps you between his body while he uses your mouse and keyboard to search through your inbox for reports Doyoung has sent the two of you.

You can’t help but watch his long fingers move as you’ve taken a liking to them after your rendezvous with him. Your gaze wanders up his arm, admiring the veins protruding against his skin until you glance up at his features — first his angled jaw, then his soft lips. 

 “What’re you looking at, boss?” Johnny grins, eyes still locked onto your screen. “Your wandering eyes are gonna get us both in trouble.” But from the way he’s blushing, it’s clear he’s enjoying your attention. 

Biting the corner of your bottom lip, you refocus on the screen. “Just wondering why you’re so close to me.” 

“It’s because you’re my favorite person,” Johnny smiles. “As for the reports, I’ll set up a meeting with Doyoung and Mina for tomorrow to see if we can remedy this dip in sales.” 

“Thank you.” You whisper as you turn to him, his lips now inches away from yours. 

You’re tempted to kiss him, feeling first hand depravity from not touching him for so long especially when that’s all you did that night. You’ve tried to deny the tension between you two; tried to ignore the flirtatious comments he made that you’ve engraved into your memory; tried to talk yourself out of using that night’s experience to help you pleasure yourself. 

But you hold yourself back, again. 

After all, he’s your co-worker and you know better than to mix business with pleasure.

“From what I remember, you have another meeting in ten minutes.” You softly let out, ultimately being the first one to pull away. 

Johnny looks at the time on the top right of your computer screen and drops his head in disappointment. Pulling back, he straightens his posture and rubs his hands over his face.

“Can I stay here?” He pouts, the inner part of his brows curving upward and his eyes softening. “I can’t stand being in my office alone. It’s depressing.”

“Isn’t that inappropriate?” You tease, swiveling your chair side to side as you look up at Johnny. “I am your senior after all.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, rolls his eyes, and pokes his tongue against his cheek. “God forbid I took a gap year after graduation to broaden my horizons.” He sarcastically retorts. “You only have seniority over me by one year. You have to feel bad — I’m going insane in my office. I need social interaction that isn’t online.” 

“Fine!” You dramatically huff, waving your hand in the air. “You can sit at my desk while you have your meeting. I’ll make myself comfortable on the couch and read over—”

“Thank you!” He happily interjects, grabbing your hand and placing a dramatic kiss on the back of your hand. “You’re amazing.”

You can’t help but giggle, watching as he proudly makes his way out of your office to grab his laptop and other necessities for his meeting, though he ends up choosing to stay with you until the end of the work day. 

Four months into transferring and you’ve gotten to see many sides of Johnny — all sides you find utterly charming and endearing; all sides that make your heart race and your mind rattle.

— Out of Town Bar & A Tucked Away Office.

You don’t notice when Johnny walks in. 

His suit jacket slung over his arm and long sleeves of his white collared shirt pushed up to his elbows. He runs his fingers through his loosely styled hair that loosened through the day while a sealed pack of cookies are presented in front of you. You look up at the man that’s been on your mind more often than you’d ever admit — and, god, does he look ethereal when he gives you a tired lopsided grin. 

“What’s this for?” You ask, picking up the sealed bag of cookies and examining it. “You know that sucking up to me isn’t gonna make me like you more.”

“You know you love me. I’m your life line here.” Johnny grins, taking a seat on one of the chairs placed in front of your desk. “A client gave it to me and I thought you’d like it when your sweet tooth kicks in during the day.”

“What’re you talking about? I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

“I catch you stealing sweets from the break room all the time.” Johnny giggles, resting his ankle just above his knee. “Did you know you walked into the break room five times in a span of seven minutes yesterday?”

“No…I did not.” You embarrassingly admit, biting your bottom lip before taking the cookies and rolling your office chair over to your mini fridge nearby to secure them for future use. “Thank you for the treat.” 

“You’re welcome.” Johnny adjusts himself in his seat, lifting his hips slightly to lower himself just a bit.

“You don’t normally stay this late.” You ask, palm resting under your chin. 

“Been keeping an eye on me?” Johnny smirks, fist gently pressing into his temple as his elbow is propped onto the chair’s arm rest. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“I care.” You quickly interject, looking down at how reckless your words came out. “Is everything okay?” 

Johnny simply nods. “Why are you still here?” He questions, looking at the analog clock perched near the windows. 

“I got a hot date with reports.” You reply bleakly, pointing your pen towards your computer screen. “I just need to finish a few things so I don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Do you have a lot to do?”

Leaning into your chair, you cross your arms and scan the to-do list you have written on a notepad. “Eager to help cut my work load in half, is that it?”

Johnny chuckles quietly, then shakes his head. “Eager to have drinks with you tonight actually.” His words are so brazen and matter of fact, it takes you by surprise; only allowing you to stutter out a response before recollecting yourself. 

“No,” you chuckle, “we both know what happened the last time I had drinks with you.” 

The fond memory flashes through your mind before you could stop it. The positions he had you in, the marks that remained as a remembrance a few weeks afterwards, and the intense pleasure you felt for hours you couldn’t replicate on your own. 

“Plus, someone could see us.” You add, shoulders slumping when you feel a hint of disappointment in your chest. 

Johnny sits up, straightening his back and extending his long legs outwards to cross an ankle over the other. “There’s this bar on the outskirts of the city that no one here goes to.”

You sharply inhale, still cautious about the offer. 

“Colleagues have drinks with each other all the time, why can’t we be one of them?” He questions, tilting his head to the side and gaze dragging along your features, eyes softening as the milliseconds pass. “We’re friends. Friends have drinks with each other.”

The word echoes in your ears and you don’t expect the simple label to sting the way it did. Friends. The quick, harsh squeeze of your heart makes you sharply inhale before you’re able to play it off with a long exhale. 

“You’ve worked hard since you started here and I’d like to treat you to a night out to—” Johnny pauses, buying himself time to find the words he needs to convince you to spend your Friday night with him. “—celebrate everything you’ve done.”

A tiny uninvited smile tugs at your mouth and Johnny notices it. 

“Is that a yes?” He quietly teases. “Please let it be a yes.”

You surrender. “My place is nearby. We can leave our cars there and get an Uber to the bar.” You offer, giving into the temptation. 

“Smart girl.” Johnny’s lips parted into a cheesy grin before jumping to his feet, rubbing the palm of his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

❁❁❁❁❁

“How’d you find this place?” You ask. The thin long sleeves of your blouse cling to your arms as you cross them over your chest in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cool air.

“My friend Yuta owns it.” Johnny says proudly, hand resting on your mid back and ushering you towards the bar’s entrance. 

“So you just have bartender friends all over the country?” You giggle, remember the handsome bartender who first introduced you to Johnny. 

Johnny grins and causally shrugs. “What can I say? Making connections is my forte. I even have some out of the country, if you fancy taking a trip with me overseas.” 

“Let’s get through tonight first before we start planning trips to other countries. For all you know, I could be trouble.”

“Oh I know you’re trouble.” Johnny gives you a knowing glance, standing in line at the entrance. “That certainly doesn’t deter me whatsoever.” 

Playfully and gently shoving him, Johnny’s arm slings over your shoulders and pulls you close as you two walk into the establishment. Classic rock from the 80s, 90s, and 2000s plays in the background as the chattering of patrons suddenly fills your ears. Johnny leads you to an empty table, giving you the small laminated menu sitting among the napkin dispenser and the ketchup and mustard bottles.

As you scan the menu, a young man with dark shoulder length hair pulled back into a half up and down updo using hair sticks appears next to Johnny. With one hand cupping Johnny’s shoulder, the other lifts to give Johnny a familiar handshake. 

“Hey John, haven’t seen you in a while.” The man glances over to you, giving you a friendly smile to show off his pearly white teeth. “Who’s your lady friend?”

“She’s my boss.” You catch a mischievous glint in his eye when he looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops immediately. “I-I’m not his boss. That would be so inappropriate.” You shake your head, palms facing outward and shaking mirroring the way you’re denying his accusations. Your face quickly heats up, the heat traveling down your entire body making your entire body prickle. “We just work together.” 

Johnny’s friend laughs loudly. “I believe you, don’t worry. I’m Yuta.” Extending his hand out, you take it and give it a firm shake. 

“Oh! You’re the owner.” You gleefully say, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. How do you know Johnny?” 

Yuta scratches the back of his neck. “We slept together in college.” With his quick movements, he blocks Johnny’s punch to his shoulder, telling you they’ve done this many times before.

“You gotta stop telling everyone that.” Johnny shakes his head, pulling Yuta in a headlock. “Tell her the truth.”

Yuta flashes you a smile, hands gripping Johnny’s wrist. “We were roommates in college,” he laughs, “so technically what I said is true.” Yuta finally frees himself from Johnny’s grasp, strands of hair somehow falling perfectly to frame his face. “I had the top bunk and he got the bottom.”

“Huh,” you let out as you looked at Johnny, “I never took you as a bottom.” 

“Alright, you two are done.” Johnny shakes his head, grabbing Yuta by his shoulders and turning him away.

“You should get the beer battered fish and chips. It’s our most popular dish!” Yuta shouts as he’s pushed away from the table and towards the bar. 

“For the record I asked for the bottom bunk purely because I kept hitting my head when I sat up. I’m certainly not a bottom…” Johnny holds contact a little too long enough to catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or have you forgotten?”

Your eyes quickly and bashfully avert away from his gaze, locking onto the menu in your hand. “I think I’ll take the fish and chips, like Yuta recommended.” You let out, changing the subject. “With a beer.”

“Good choice. I’ll be right back.”

Johnny disappears into the crowd, though the top of his head sticks out and easy to spot makes you less worried that you’ll lose sight of him. Taking a glance around the room, you watch the group of people intently watching the white cue ball make its way across the billiards table before strategizing their next move. You glance over the group of people chugging their beers while the rest of the group cheers them on. Your eyes move towards a couple in a corner booth, watching as they giggle to themselves and throwing flirty glances toward each other. You try not to stare, but their nerves are so palpable you could feel it three tables away.

Your attention is pulled towards the unopened bottle of beer in front of you as Johnny takes a swig of the identical bottle in his hand. Without a word, Johnny uses the wide part of a random key from his keychain to effortlessly pop off the bottle cap. 

“Are you showing off, John?” You playfully retort with your hand resting under your chin.

”Depends. Is it working?” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink. “I figured it’s better to open your drink in front of you, so you know it isn’t tampered with.”

“Very considerate of you, thank you.”

Johnny simply lifts his bottle towards you and you gently clink your amber colored glass against his. Taking a long sip, you allow your body to finally relax after a long week of work. Johnny makes himself comfortable on a stool across from you, elbows resting on the round table in front of him.

“What caught your attention earlier?” Johnny asks.

“It looks like that couple may be on a first date.” You share, inconspicuously tilting your head in the direction of the couple in the corner booth. “I found it cute that they’re holding hands under the table and it got me thinking about my first date, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Johnny’s eyebrows quirks upward, leaning into the backrest of his chair. “Do tell.” 

“No.” You shake your head. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come on!” Johnny pouts. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“And what makes you think I’d want to hear about your first date?” You tease. 

“Fair.” Johnny shrugs. “Hearing about another guy being your first anything doesn’t seem like a topic I’d like to touch on.” 

You quietly chuckle and lean into your seat. “Jealous?”

“How can I not be?”

Your foot playfully jabs Johnny’s covered calf, causing him to chuckle to himself. Before he could speak up, you’re interrupted by a waiter and the delivery of the food Johnny ordered for the both of you. With a quick thank you, you take a bite of the potato fry that’s clearly fresh out of the fryer.

“Okay, so no discussing first date experience. Tell me what your ideal date would be.” Johnny lets out, mirroring your movements and grabbing a bite of the freshly fried potato.

“What?” You giggle, folding your arms over your chest. “Why would you want to know that?”

“Humor me.” Johnny shrugs. “I’m trying to have a normal conversation. What would your ideal date be?” 

His gaze locks onto yours and you bite the line he’s throwing. With a sharp inhale, you lean forward. You follow Johnny’s fingers as he rips a piece of fish from the plate in front of you and dips it into the accompanying sauce the dish comes with before popping it into his mouth. 

“A candle light dinner at home and a movie afterwards.”

“Huh.”

“What?” 

“I took you for someone who’d want to go to a fancy restaurant or something. Maybe take a trip overseas for dinner. Your ideal date seems—”

”Basic?”

Johnny nods, watching as your lips wrap around the opening of the beer bottle.

“A lot of the men I dated loved the lavish lifestyle and it gets old really fast when you realize they’d rather shower you with expensive things than spend time with you.” You let out a sigh. “I know it sounds like a first world complaint, but at the end of the day, it’s a whole lot of loneliness.”

“And that’s why you’d rather have a simple night in with someone that’s genuinely interested in you.” Johnny slowly nods, leaning into his chair and bringing the opening of his drink to his lips. “That’s good to know.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Four beers in and suddenly Johnny’s the funniest and most philosophical person you know; not to mention, a yapper who can go on and on about his growing Pokémon card collection that probably makes him the cutest nerd who has a goldmine of rare cards that would put him on a rob list. 

Two beers in and a glass of whisky later, you’re a giggling mess and suddenly sharing more about your life than you’d ever imagined you would — everything laid out on the table for Johnny to pick and choose what to relentlessly tease you about; though he probably would never.

You catch the glimpse of the time, surprised with how quickly it has passed when you're with Johnny. “We should probably head out soon. It’s getting late.” 

Johnny lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” He grins, swallowing the last bits of his drink before pulling his phone out. “I’ll order a ride.”

With your hand on his, you halt his movements. “Let me use the restroom first. It’s a pretty long ride back.” You eye the line of the woman’s restroom, sighing in disappointment as you’re aware of how full your bladder is. “We might be waiting for a while.” 

Johnny follows where your gaze falls before tucking his phone away. Standing from his seat, he offers his hand to help you up. “We can use Yuta’s office restroom.” 

“He’ll be okay with that?” You question, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way.

“Yeah. He gave me a spare key to his office for nights I get too drunk and can’t make it home. His couch isn’t the comfiest, but when you’re drunk out of your mind, anything will do.” 

You giggle, following him down the hall hidden behind the bar. Based on the lack of intervention from the employees, you have a feeling he’s done this a few times short of it becoming a habit. 

He unlocks the wooden door with a key he has and ushers you in. When the door shuts, the loud music and chatter suddenly stops. “The restroom is the door on your left. I’ll get a ride here while you do what you gotta do.”

“Thank you.” You smile, rushing off to the restroom while Johnny fiddles with his phone. 

When you exit the restroom, Johnny quickly looks up at you from the sofa and jumps to his feet. “Our ride is 10 minutes away.”

You nod, looking around the room and catching the framed photos on Yuta’s desk. One photo of who you assumed to be Yuta and his parents, another of Yuta and his sisters, and another of a younger bar owner and a group of men — one of them being a shirtless younger Johnny with bleached blonde hair and lack of his tattoos that adorned his bicep that you’ve imagined tracing over more than you’d like to admit. 

“This is you, right?” You smile, pointing at the photo of him at the beach with his friends. “I wouldn’t have expected you to go blonde.”

Johnny sharply inhales, shaking his head in disapproval of his younger self’s choices. “Spur of the moment type of thing.” He shrugs, using his large hand to cover the photo from your view. “Let’s not walk down memory lane of embarrassing moments.”

You smile, setting the framed photo down where it previously was. “Maybe you should consider going back.” Lifting your hand, you run your fingers through the side of his hair. “I think you looked great.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m very fond of the idea of frying my hair off again.” Johnny chuckles, taking your hand in his. “I just got it back to a healthy state.”

Pulling your hand back, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we wait outside for our ride?” 

Johnny glances towards the door, then back at you. Lifting his hand, he gently moves a strand of hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. “I think you’ll be warmer here.” 

Your knees go weak and there’s the flutters in your stomach that you try to bury deep into the pit of your stomach. When you finally meet his eyes, his gaze flicks between your eyes and lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You mumble, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“We agreed to be strictly professional.” Your voice trembles when you feel his palm slide down your arm, the conviction in your words slowly withering with a simple touch. “Compliments like that are making me think you’re not holding up your end of our deal.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.” Johnny chuckles, his hand now playing with your fingertips right before lacing his fingers between yours. “You’re just…really hard to ignore.” 

His lips press against your knuckles and you don’t stop him; not when he gives you a tender kiss on your wrist or when his lips press into your cheek, and certainly not when his hand cups the side of your neck and he gently weaves his lips with yours. 

Warmth spreads through your body while his arms slide across your lower back to pull you closer. Your body arches into him, fingers mindlessly raking through his hair before you pull away slightly breathless. 

“I don’t think this is what friends do, Johnny.” 

A quiet huff that resembles a laugh leaves his lips before resuming his movements. “Please don’t be mad. I only said that because I thought you wanted me to say it.” He confesses between breaths and kisses. “I thought that’d be more palatable than to tell you how badly I want you.” 

A smile blooms across your lips, satisfied with his words. You deepen the kiss — this time your lips frantically moving like you’ve been deprived from his touch for years. 

You press against the edge of the desk, feeling the bulge forming under Johnny’s dress pants and heat pools between your thighs. Your hand dips under his waistband, feeling his warm and veiny shaft harden at your touch, twitching as your fingers wrap around his girth. With one full stroke from his base to his tip, he shudders. Your thumb rolls over his slit, his hand cups the back of your head and fingers grip your roots, tilting your head to look at him. 

“Tell me you want me too.” He softly growls, his forehead pressing against yours. “I can’t be the only one.”

You grin, slowly stroking his shaft and watching him melt under your touch. “I need you.” You whisper against his lips. “Let me taste you.”

Johnny takes half a step back and you drop to your knees, fingers hastily moving to bring his waistband down his thighs. Before he could take in the sight of you on your knees for him, you envelop his tip between your lips and his jaw drops at the warmth your mouth offers. As your tongue swirls around his sensitive tip, his head tips back and his teeth bite down on his knuckle to stop the noise he so desperately wants to make. 

Swallowing around him, saliva runs down your chin as his tip meets the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to water and when you look up at him, mouth full of his heavy cock, your tears spill from the outer corners of your eyes and he gently swipes them away with his thumbs.

“You’re doing a great job, baby.” He coos, the pads of his fingers gently stroking the space under your eyes. “You’re so perfect. Taking me so well.”

Your tummy does backflips and you squeeze your thighs shut, focusing on the bobbing of your head and the swirl of your tongue. Your cheeks hallow around his tip, sucking it until his lips break apart with a moan, jaw slacking and chest huffing up at down. 

“My perfect girl.” He babbles, fingers gripping the roots of your hair. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come for you.”

Excitement ignites just behind your bellybutton, sucking on his tip just as you’ve done before. His eyes flutter shut and his brows draw tight. Johnny quietly groans your name, whispering it over and over like a prayer. His cheeks burn and his fingers twitch just before he tightens his grip in your hair.

And before he could stop it, his thick creamy ropes paint your tongue as his body stills, letting his entire body feel the ecstasy you helped him achieve. With a quick swallow of the remnants in your mouth, you pepper his sensitive tip and shaft with gentle kisses. 

Helping you to your feet, his lips crash into yours while his hands frantically grope your backside. But before any other exploration could happen, a notification on his phone goes off. 

A small frustrated groan rumbles in his throat and he pulls his phone out to see the notification that the ride he’s requested is arriving. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, glancing at Johnny’s phone then catching his eye. 

“Yeah, our ride is here.” He sighs, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We should probably—”  He tilts his head towards the door and you simply nod, quickly readjusting your clothes before Johnny leads you out the door hand in hand.

Johnny slides in next to you, fingers lacing between yours and his head resting on your shoulder. The hints of his cologne mix with the smell of alcohol on his lips, and while you’d find it completely unpleasant if it were anyone else, Johnny was the exception. 

And part of you entertains the idea that he’ll always be an exception.

— Apartment 3B.

“Thank you for tonight.” Johnny gives you a lopsided smile, the alcohol still coursing through his bloodstream. “Not just for what happened in Yuta’s office, but for letting me get to know you a little more.”

“Yeah, it was fun. A night away every once and a while doesn’t hurt.” You nod, feeling the cool air prickling your skin. 

There’s a beat of silence, unsure of where to go from here. You shift on your feet, looking behind you at the entrance of your apartment building and Johnny glances towards his parked car, fingers fiddling with the keys in his pocket. 

“I should probably go.” Johnny’s lips press into each other, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You must be tired.”

A tiny grin dances on your lips. Stepping forward, you reach for Johnny’s wrist as he pulls his keys out of his pockets. He looks at you surprised, lips parting slightly. 

“I can’t let you drive after drinking tonight regardless of how much you can ‘handle your liquor.’” You let out, gently tugging on his wrist. 

“You’re right.” Johnny sighs, looking back at his car. “I’ll sleep in my—”

You lift your palm to stop him. “You’ll be warmer in my place.” Giving him an affirmative nod, you pull him towards your building’s front entrance before he could object and you refuse to let his hand go as you both walk up to the third floor to your apartment. 

As you push open the front door, you feel the surge of anticipation run through you as you blindly search for the nearby lightswitch. When the bright warm colored lights fill the room, you quickly step in and both you and your guest for the night toe off your shoes, kicking them to the side of the entrance way. 

“Nice place,” Johnny compliments, “very cozy.”

You chuckle, turning on your heel to look at him. “Thanks. C’mon, I’ll give you a quick tour.” Extending your hand out, he cups his palm into yours but this time, he pulls you into his body – one hand finding your waist while the other cups the side of your neck and his lips hastily find his way to yours once more. 

You don’t take a second to think about what to do next when your hands frantically undo the buttons of his long sleeve shirt and strip it off, throwing it haphazardly behind you while he drops his pants to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. It takes a split second to have your clothes in a pile next to the front door, leaving you in your matching garment set.

You’re stumbling through your apartment entrance, finally tumbling on top of Johnny as he falls onto your sofa. Climbing on top of him, knees pressing into the cushions of each side of his thighs, his erection hardens with every minuscule movement of your hips. 

“Finally gonna let me be on top?” You playfully ask, trailing kisses against his jaw and down the side of his neck. 

Johnny rasps a laugh, arms wrapping around your hips and in one swift move, he’s on top of you — giving you your answer. 

“Not a chance.” He hums as the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek just before placing a soft tender kiss on your heated skin. “Now open—” He smacks the side of your thigh, the slap of flesh filling the silence of the room. “I need to taste you after you’ve deprived me for so long.” 

You do as he says, spreading your thighs apart as you watch Johnny drop to his knees. Pulling aside the fabric covering your core, he wastes no time tasting you with a long strip of his tongue against your slit. Your head presses into the soft backing of your sofa, fingers raking through his hair as he devours you with no end in sight even when your vision blurs into stars or when your chest heaves up and down, and certainly not when you’re a whimpering mess with your nails digging into your cushion and gripping the edge of your seat.

Your body trembles when he gives you mercy, pulling away with his lips and chin glistening with your slick. You grab his hair, yanking him to your lips and your hands busy themselves with the waistband of the only fabric he has on. Slipping it down his legs and letting it pool around his feet before kicking it to the side, you give his long length a few pumps until his jaw slacks open as he feels all his blood rush to his cock. 

Aligning his leaking tip with your entrance, he pushes into you, pressing your thighs to widen your spread for him. And with ease, you take him without hesitation. 

“Your cunt is starving for me, baby—” Johnny groans, “begging me to stretch this pretty pussy open until you’re stuffed full with my cum.”

Blood rushes to your face and your heart races. You watch the way Johnny’s blown out pupils scan your features, suddenly making you extremely aware of how intoxicating his movements are — the quick and brutal thrust of his hips, the rush of heat through your body when his tip meets that sweet spot, and especially when his fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you down his cock. 

You don’t bother being quiet. Not when Johnny pushes your knees to your chest and traps your body between him and the couch cushions, feeling your pulse pick up in speed and the octave in your moans becoming louder and louder with every pound of his cock into your soaking cunt. 

“Scream for me, baby.” Johnny growls, the raw slapping of flesh punctuated by a groan. “Let everyone know I’m breeding my girl. Let them know you’re mine.”

His words only rattle in your head, making you nod and babble like the obedient slut you are. You cry out his name, tears prickling from the outer corners of your eyes as you writhe under him. 

“Say you’re mine.” He orders through clenched teeth, hips harshly thrusting into you before stilling, feeling his tip press into your g-spot and making your eyes roll back. “Say. It.”

“Y—” Your breath hitches. “I-I’m yours.”

You mindlessly repeat the words, satisfying Johnny as his hips mercilessly snaps into you until you’re sobbing out how pathetically close you are to the edge; unable to hold on to the last bit of control you’re desperately clinging on to. 

Your voice breaks as you cry out his name, feeling your walls tighten around every crevice of his engorged cock. Your eyes roll back, nails scraping down the skin of his back as his face buries into the crook of your neck. You whimper through the pleasure and your desperate noises are enough to make his voice crack on a moan, feeling him empty himself inside of you in sharp pulses. His cock twitches and a gravelly groan rumbles from his chest, pinning your hand into the sofa cushion with his eyes screwing shut and jaw slacking open at the bliss coursing through his body.

When he pulls his heavy cock out of you, the remnants he left behind slowly drip out of you and onto your flushed skin. Johnny smirks, using two fingers to scoop up the spill and push it back inside. 

“It's dripping out of you already.” Johnny grins, fascinated with the sight of you limp and satisfied. 

“Maybe you should fuck it in me again.” You happily let out as you prop yourself on your elbows. “Harder this time.” 

“That wasn’t hard enough for you?” Johnny questions, an eyebrow quirking and his grin spreads wider, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. “I’m gonna have to fix that, don’t I?”

“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you think you don’t have it in you?”

Johnny laughs deep in his throat, a laugh that promises trouble. “Oh you’re definitely going to regret saying that.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

The ache between your thighs is difficult to ignore as you carefully pull yourself out of bed to make coffee for yourself and the unexpected overnight guest who laid peacefully with his body heat keeping you warm last night. 

“Where are you going?” He groggily asks, one eye squinting as he lifts his head to watch you throw on your silk robe. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me again.” His sleepy smile sends your heart into overdrive and you give him a reassuring peck on his temple.

“I’m gonna make coffee.” You whisper. “Its also my place, where else would I go?”

Johnny sheepishly smiles, falling back onto your pillow as you walk out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. As you wait for the coffee, the silence makes you think back on the night you had — a night that somehow surpassed the pleasure of the first time you spent with Johnny. You find your giddy state to be slightly embarrassing, but you can’t help but quietly squeal as if you had reached a new level of happiness. 

“I love the smell of coffee in the morning,” Johnny yawns, joining you in your kitchen still in his boxer briefs. He takes a seat on a countertop and carefully takes hold of the mug you offer, taking a small sip. His eyes flutter shut, allowing the warm liquid to work its way through his body. “Not the best cure for a hangover, but addicting nonetheless.”

You chuckle, taking small sips of your beverage. “What do you want for breakfast?” You ask, setting down your favorite mug and making your way to the fridge. You pull the double fridge doors open, quickly embarrassed by the emptiness in front of you. “Ah, on second thought—” You let out an awkward laugh before it falters into a fake cough.

“Breakfast is on me. Is delivery okay?” Johnny swoops in, hopping off the counter. 

You eagerly nod, delighted by the idea that you get to finally spend the morning after with Johnny. 

Johnny disappears into your bedroom to fetch his phone, meanwhile your attention turns to the front door after hearing your doorbell. Peaking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Kang, outside with her lip tucked between her teeth and her brows knitted together. 

You quickly open your front door and a wave of relief washes over your neighbor’s face when she sees you. 

“Oh thank god!” Mrs. Kang lets out. “You’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Do you need help, Mrs. K?” 

Your elderly neighbor shakes her head. Her short dark bob swung at her movements. “It’s just, I didn’t hear you come home last night and then I heard these noises coming from your apartment. I called my daughter to see what I should do — if I should check in on you when I heard the noise or call the police right away…”

You nod attentively as you hear her express her concern. A mix of embarrassment about how loud you were and the regret of not throwing on your sleepwear makes you uncomfortably adjust your robe. You hold the fabric together near your collarbones, almost afraid Mrs. Kang could somehow see you’re completely naked underneath. 

“…but she told me to check in on you in the morning. So here I am.” 

You nervously gulp, suddenly feeling you’ve done something wrong. “I’m so sorry to worry you, Mrs. K. I went out for drinks with a friend of mine and didn’t get in until late.”

“But the noises—”

“Hey baby, do you want a breakfast sandwich or are you feeling—” Johnny’s voice becomes clearer as he appears behind you, still in his underwear, eyes glued to his phone screen, and completely unaware of your neighbor’s presence or her wide eyes when she finally connects the dots in her head. 

“Oh.” Mrs. Kang simply says, finally grabbing Johnny’s attention. She bites back a sheepish grin, avoiding eye contact with you and the handsome man behind you. “Ah, the noises make sense.” 

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I wasn’t—I didn’t—I-I’ll keep it down, I promise.” You profusely apologize, using your arm to push Johnny behind you in fear that his half-naked body would somehow send your poor neighbor into cardiac arrest. 

“Not to worry, dear. I was young too and had my share of midnight friends.” Mrs. Kang giggles. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you for checking in. I’ll give you my number, that way when you’re worried or need help, you can just call me directly.” You quickly jot down your personal phone number on a nearby memo pad. 

“And your name, dear?” Mrs. Kang looks at Johnny who is now using your front door to hide his promiscuous state. 

“Oh! Uh, I’m John. John Suh, ma’am.” You catch a hint of redness paint over Johnny’s cheeks and travel down his pale neck. “I apologize for the noise. I told her to keep it down last night.” 

With a quick nudge to Johnny’s bicep, you give your neighbor the piece of paper with your number. “I’m so sorry, again.”

Mrs. Kang lifts her hand, palm facing you. A warm smile stretched across her face. “It’s no problem. I’m just glad you're safe." 

“Thank you, Mrs. K. Just let me know if we’re a bother or anything. We won’t take offense, I swear.” 

“Will do, dear. Have fun you two.” 

You and Johnny wave an awkward goodbye before he slowly shuts the door. When he turns to you, he gives you a small laugh under his breath as he scratches the back of his neck. “That was awkward.” 

You give him a knowing look, crossing your arm over your chest. “Told me to keep it down last night, huh?” Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts to the side. “Weren’t you the one telling me to do the opposite?”

Johnny gives you a lopsided smile before his palms cup your cheeks, pulling you in to give you a kiss on your forehead. “Back to breakfast, what do you wanna eat?” 

“Surprise me.” You mumble into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. “I trust you.”

Cupping the back of your head, he lifts his phone and orders breakfast from a familiar diner that he’s ordered from before, getting the both of you his regular order. 

“Now that’s settled—” Johnny tosses his phone onto your couch and swoops you up over his shoulder. A squeal leaves your lips, legs flailing as Johnny saunters into your bedroom.

“What’re you doing?” You giggle as you’re gently thrown onto your mattress, watching as Johnny climbs on top of you. His fingers play with the fabric holding your robe together before tugging at it, watching the silk unravel and slip down your shoulder. 

“Having a pre-breakfast.” His devilish grin disarms you quickly, allowing him to spread your thighs wide. “This time, you might wanna keep it down…for your neighbor’s sake.”

— The Morning After.

Walking into the break room, you’re greeted by Mina and her insanely bubbly personality at 7:30 in the morning. “How was your weekend?” She asks, taking a generous bite of a donut that another employee brought in to share.

You can’t help but bite back a smile, fingers busying themselves as they shuffle through the newly stocked bags of veggie chips to snack on later. Spending the entire weekend with Johnny wasn’t something you’d plan, but between the fucking, the cuddling, and the pure bliss of simply being around each other made it hard for either of you to be the first one to let go of the hold you two had on each other. 

“It was fine. How was yours?”

Mina babbles on and on about how she rearranged her bedroom twice, had a virtual meetup with some friends back home, and started a rewatch binge of The Big Bang Theory for the 5th time. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure coolly sauntering into the room with his hair parted perfectly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, and shining the same glow you’ve had since Friday night. A few morning greetings are thrown his way and Johnny kindly returns polite conversation before interjecting into your conversation with Mina. 

“Morning Mina.” Johnny smiles politely, then turns to you. “Morning, boss. Think I could pick your brain before our meeting today?” Johnny asks, eyes locked with yours as if he’s giving you a message only you’ll understand.

“Putting her to work before 8 am? You’re brutal, Suh.” Mina teases, tossing the used napkin in her hand into a nearby trash bin. 

“What can I say? I gotta keep her focused.” Johnny laughs quietly, then turns to you. “What do you say?”

You nod at Johnny before wrapping up your conversation with Mina. Following closely behind Johnny, he opens his office door and gestures to you inside. When you hear the door’s lock click, Johnny’s hands find your waist, twisting your body and pressing his against yours. 

“So, this is your idea of picking my brain?” You giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling his lips to yours weaving them together like you’d done this entire weekend.

Johnny smiles against your lips, fingers cupping the nape of your neck. “This weekend wasn’t long enough.” 

“It’s a good thing you see me here everyday, huh?” 

Johnny hums. “And yet, it somehow feels like that won’t be enough.” 

With your palms firmly pressed into Johnny’s chest, you pull away from his kiss. “You’re obsessed.” You playfully remark, carefully moving the strand of his hair that’s fallen onto his forehead.

“Come over after work.” Johnny offers, lips leaving a trail of kisses on your cheek. 

“Next, you’re gonna ask me to stay the night.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” 

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching for sincerity in his. Then you realize where you are — at work, with your co-worker peppering you with kisses in secret.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, afraid he’s crossed a line he can’t come back from. “I-I’m sorry.” Quickly dropping his arms, he steps away to give you space. 

“No, no. You didn’t—” you quickly say. “Maybe we can keep things professional during work hours. The last thing I want is for us to lose our jobs because we can’t keep our hands off each other.” 

Johnny nods in agreement. “We’ll keep things professional during work hours. I’ll take what I can get.” He looks at the digital clock sitting on his desk. “We have 10 minutes before our work shift actually starts. Does that count a—”

Biting down on your bottom lip, your hand snakes behind the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips. But just before you could meet his lips, his office phone startles the both of you when it rings and Mr. Choi’s name pops up on the screen. 

Johnny grumbles quietly before lifting the receiver to his ear. Johnny greets the manager simply, listening to his words and rolling his eyes in the process. 

“Sure, I’ll head up in a bit.” Johnny says before hanging up. He looks at you apologetically, holding your hand in his. “Choi wants me to meet some fresh college grads for an internship here. He says he’s pairing one with me and that I should meet her before the internship actually starts.”

You don’t mean to focus on such a minor detail, but your mouth works faster than your brain sometimes. “Her? Your new intern is a woman?”

You see a small grin tug on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “You’re kinda cute when you’re jealous. Your nose crinkles a little when your eyebrows—” Johnny reaches to press his thumb against your furrowed eyebrows before you swat his hand away. 

“I’m not jealous.” Your attempt to make your words sound less defensive but the amused look on Johnny’s face makes you realize he can see right through you. 

“That’s good,” Johnny reassures, “because there’s no reason to be. I’m yours, remember?” 

You press a smile as you feel his lips pecking against your cheek. Pushing down the uncomfortable feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, you file this jealous feeling under irrationality in your brain. 

After all, Johnny is loyal — to a fault sometimes, like Jaehyun shared. There’s nothing you need to worry about.

Right?

❁ disclaimer | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify any of my writing. do not share my work on other platforms without my explicit permission.

© suhnflwrs, 2026 | © aquarius-johnny, 2018-2025

[aujun-t]

might i say i’m in love w this 🫠🥹

[anqeluv]

soooo do we all consecutively agree that jaehyun and johnny are himbos that just want to please you? pls give ur thoughts when u can❤️

nct himbo supremacy! but especially all of the j’s. and lucas too tbh. i think johnny would be slightly less himbo than jaehyun. like he knows what he’s doing smh. but jaehyun? jaehyun is a happy little puppy just floating through life, doing what you want. imagine being fwb with both him and johnny, so you guys have threesomes sometimes and it’s just johnny telling jaehyun exactly how to fuck you because sometimes the poor puppy just gets too excited and needs a little direction. imagine johnny sitting you between his legs and sucking hickies over your throat and playing with your nipples while jaehyun gives you head. and he’s not allowed to stop, even if you beg him to, until johnny says you’re done cumming (with prior consent from you both, of course). or like jaehyun being tied up to a chair and forced to watch johnny fuck you from behind so that he can learn how to properly fuck a sub. OR imagine you misbehaving and so johnny has jaehyun put you over his lap to spank you, and poor jaehyun doesn’t really like hurting you so he’s super gentle and keeps looking up at johnny like “last one, right?” but johnny knows you can’t just get away with being a tease in front of the other members, so he makes him keep going until your whole backside is red and aching. but by then jaehyun feels bad, so johnny lets him fuck you nice and slow and sweet as a reward for punishing you so well for him.

god this concept is just too hot. i could go on forever lmao but i’ll stop!

[anqeluv]

i can’t stop thinking about johnny and jaehyun with corruption kinks completely ruining a shy, easily flustered sub (like myself) and just the thought of the looks they’d give along with the degrading words they’d use has me squirming in my seat 🥺 could you maybe write something about this...?

oh my god wait. imagine this as a private school au where you’re this cute little sheltered girl who somehow ends up becoming best friends with johnny and jaehyun, two older students who have a reputation for being a bad influence on you.

johnny is a notorious flirt known for sleeping around, the kind of person people like right away but probably shouldn’t trust. jaehyun is more mysterious. he has a bad boy sense of style and a boy next door personality that attracts everyone around him, but he rarely lets them in.

you’re a complete sweetheart. jae and johnny worship the ground you walk on and do their best to protect you from everyone. little does everyone else know how much they love corrupting you behind closed doors …

like this is amazing because i can so easily see both of them being capable of being the sweetest soft doms or the meanest hard doms if you liked that, so they take turns playing good cop bad cop with you.

like one day it’s johnny who decides to punish you by putting you over his knee and edging you for the rest of the night and then jaehyun is there to pick up the pieces, gently fingering you and whispering to you about how much of mess johnny has made you and how cute you look with his cum all over your thighs.

but sometimes it’s jaehyun who plays the stricter role. most of the time he can turn you into a good girl with just a look (we all know the look) but today you decided to be a brat. i think jaehyun would be a little harder to rile up, but once he’s upset with you he’s big upset and you know you’re in for a rough night. he isn’t afraid to call you names.

“what kind of girl are you?”

“a messy little slut, daddy.”

“that’s right. now open your mouth.”

he’s normally very gentle, but this time he fucks your throat and the whole time johnny is sucking hickies into your inner thighs, almost eating you out, but not quite just to be a tease. between johnny making fun of you for how wet you are and jaehyun being so rough you almost cum but jaehyun tells you you’re not allowed.

jaehyun cums down your throat and johnny fucks you, but jaehyun stops him from letting you cum at all this time.

“if she wanted to cum, then she would have behaved for me.”

[seokcrates]

almost strangers (m) - lee jeno

pairing: jeno x fem bodied reader | exes-to-lovers? plot: jeno was a problem. he was unhinged, violent and not afraid of anyone. you were tired of cleaning his mess and left him. but jeno decided he didn't want to be left alone so when you get locked on the rooftop of a house party together, you might need to break your own rules word count: approx. 5k warnings/notes: jeno is supposed to mirror geum seongje from weak hero (that was what anon wanted), i tried my best, jealousy (ft appearance from nct wish's sion), rooftop sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it up), jeno basically coaxes reader to take him back requested - hello is this thing on *taps mic* can i get uhhh badboy jeno smut (geum seongje vibes iykyk) where reader broke up with him and he's not over it and he kinda corners her to ask her to take him back sorta thing thank u very much hehehehehe masterlist

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the house party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. music pulsed through the walls hard enough that you could feel the bass beneath your feet before you even stepped inside, while people drifted between the driveway and the front lawn with red cups in hand, talking over one another beneath strings of warm lights. the house itself sat high in the hills overlooking the city, all floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive furniture that belonged to parents who were conveniently away for the weekend.

karina took one look at you after you climbed out of the car and let out an unashamed scream.

"oh, you're evil."

you laughed, smoothing the front of your dress. "i'll take that as a compliment."

"no, seriously." she caught your wrist and dragged you beneath one of the driveway lights before you could make a run for the front door. "look at yourself. you knew exactly what you were doing."

your eyes instinctively dropped to the dress.

it hugged you perfectly. your makeup had taken almost an hour, your hair had finally decided to cooperate for once, and for the first time in weeks, you'd managed to look into a mirror without immediately thinking about someone else.

that had been the goal.

not revenge. not jealousy. just... yourself.

it had been exactly a month since you'd broken up with lee jeno. according to every friend you had, that was supposed to be enough time to start feeling like yourself again. apparently nobody had bothered informing your nervous system.

people assumed you'd left because of the fights. because of the rumours. because campus seemed to produce a brand-new story about jeno every other week, usually involving bruised knuckles, broken furniture or somebody making the catastrophic mistake of underestimating him.

none of that had been the reason.

the truth was almost impossible to explain without making yourself sound dramatic.

you hadn't fallen out of love with him.

if anything, that had been the problem.

loving jeno had slowly turned into managing him. every reckless decision somehow became your responsibility, every late-night phone call ended with someone asking if you could come because, somehow, you were the only person he'd actually listen to. every fight followed the same exhausting pattern: he'd flash that infuriating grin the second he saw you, his friends would visibly relax, and before you even had time to process what had happened, you'd somehow become responsible for cleaning up another disaster you hadn't created.

you loved him.

you still did.

but somewhere along the way, you'd stopped feeling like his girlfriend and started feeling like the emergency contact everyone called whenever lee jeno inevitably became lee jeno.

"tonight," karina declared as she linked her arm through yours and steered you toward the front door, "you are legally prohibited from thinking about him."

you glanced sideways at her. "legally?"

"i've decided i'm the government."

"that feels unconstitutional."

"don't care."

despite yourself, you laughed.

"if i catch you looking sad," she continued, "i'm throwing my drink at somebody."

"you say that like you need a reason."

"exactly."

the party swallowed you the second you stepped inside. music shook the walls, somebody was already dancing on the kitchen island, and you recognised at least half the faces crowded into the living room. for the first hour, things felt surprisingly... normal. you danced with karina, accepted two drinks you definitely didn't need, and found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

that was probably why you didn't notice the atmosphere change straight away.

it wasn't that the music stopped or people suddenly went quiet. conversations continued, laughter still echoed through the room, but something subtle shifted beneath it all. people near the entrance started glancing in the same direction almost instinctively, the way animals seemed to sense a storm before the first drop of rain ever hit the ground.

your stomach tightened before your eyes even followed theirs.

lee jeno had arrived.

he wasn't making a scene. he never needed to. he wandered in with three of his friends, listening to something one of them was saying while lazily spinning one of the silver rings around his finger. his shoulders were relaxed, his hoodie sat half-zipped, and he looked exactly like someone who'd shown up because he'd been bored and decided a party sounded marginally more entertaining than staying home.

then he saw you.

whatever his friend had been saying immediately ceased to exist.

his gaze settled on you with quiet curiosity, travelling from your heels to the hem of your dress before finally finding your face again. he didn't look angry. if anything, he looked... amused.

slowly, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

you felt your heart sink.

"oh, no," karina murmured beside you.

you didn't take your eyes off him. "what?"

"he looks happy."

that, unfortunately, was exactly the problem.

most people assumed lee jeno was dangerous when he looked angry.

the people who actually knew him understood the opposite was true.

angry jeno was predictable. when he was angry, somebody had usually said something stupid, started a fight or looked at him the wrong way, and everyone knew how the evening was going to end. smiling jeno, however, was impossible to read.

sometimes it meant he'd found something funny. sometimes it meant he was about to do something that would have half the room questioning his sanity. the problem was that nobody, not even the people closest to him, ever seemed to know which version they were getting until it was too late.

you tore your eyes away before you could think too much about it.

whatever expression was sitting on his face wasn't your problem anymore.

that had been the entire point of the breakup.

for the past month, you'd repeated that to yourself so often it had almost become convincing. you weren't responsible for wondering whether he'd gotten himself into another fight, whether he'd remembered to eat something that wasn't instant noodles, or whether one of his friends would inevitably end up calling you at two in the morning because he'd done something spectacularly reckless. those habits were proving much harder to break than the relationship itself, but you were trying, and that had to count for something.

"don't," karina said quietly, following your line of sight without even pretending she wasn't. "whatever's going on inside that head of yours, stop."

you let out a small laugh.

"i wasn't thinking about anything."

"you're a terrible liar."

you sighed and conceded. "i've always been a terrible liar."

"exactly."

she linked her arm through yours and nudged you gently toward the kitchen, where somebody was aggressively insisting that tequila solved every known problem in existence. "one month," she reminded you. "you've survived one month already. don't let one smile ruin all that progress."

"i wasn't planning to."

"good."

"i'm just..."

you hesitated, searching for the right word before eventually giving up.

"confused."

karina looked at you.

"why?"

"because he isn't doing anything."

that made her glance across the room again.

for a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

jeno was still standing near the entrance with his friends, listening—or at least pretending to listen—to whatever story one of them was telling. every now and then he'd nod, or laugh under his breath, or answer with a comment that earned another round of laughter from the group. to anybody else, he looked completely normal.

except every single time the conversation lulled, his eyes drifted back to you.

not in a way that felt territorial.

not even jealous.

if anything, he looked... curious.

like he'd stumbled across a question he couldn't quite answer.

"...okay," karina murmured slowly. "that's actually a little creepy."

you frowned.

"right?"

"he usually would've walked over by now."

"i know."

"or interrupted."

"i know."

"or done literally anything."

"exactly."

instead, he stayed where he was, making no effort whatsoever to close the distance between you. somehow that unsettled you more than if he'd marched straight across the room the second he'd arrived. that would've been predictable. this wasn't. it was as though he'd seen you, decided that approaching you wasn't the answer, and settled for quietly observing instead.

the thought shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did.

you looked away, determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, and for a while it worked. somebody handed you another drink, a girl from one of your tutorials dragged you into a conversation about exams, and the noise of the party gradually swallowed your thoughts again.

then, almost absentmindedly, you looked up.

your eyes found him immediately.

he hadn't moved.

worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.

he hadn't moved.

worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.

it wasn't smug, and that somehow made it infinitely more irritating. there wasn't a trace of triumph in it, no silent caught you. if anything, he looked... pleased. like you'd just confirmed something he'd been quietly wondering about all evening.

you immediately looked away again.

"absolutely not," you muttered under your breath.

"i'm getting another drink," karina announced suddenly. "do you want one?"

you looked down at the cup still half-full in your hand.

"i'm good."

"don't disappear."

you smiled.

"i'll try."

"i mean it."

"rina."

"what?"

"he's not going to kidnap me."

she looked across the room at jeno before looking back at you.

"...i'm not completely ruling it out."

you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as she wandered toward the kitchen.

left on your own, you leaned lightly against the edge of the dining table and took another sip of your drink, letting the noise of the party settle around you again. conversations overlapped from every direction, somebody near the speakers was passionately arguing that the playlist had peaked an hour ago, and a group of seniors had somehow convinced themselves they could play beer pong using decorative crystal glasses borrowed from the host's parents.

it almost felt normal again.

almost.

your gaze wandered before you could stop it.

this time, you found him laughing.

one of his friends had apparently just finished telling a story, and jeno tilted his head back with an easy grin that looked so effortless it caught you off guard. it wasn't the laugh that surprised you—you'd always known he laughed easily—but the way it disappeared almost immediately after.

his eyes searched the room.

they found you.

and just like that, everything else ceased to exist.

he didn't wave.

didn't gesture for you to come over.

didn't even acknowledge that you'd caught him looking.

he simply held your gaze for a few quiet seconds before lifting his cup in the smallest, almost imperceptible salute.

the gesture was so casual, so absurdly normal, that you found yourself staring before you realised what you were doing.

he smiled again.

then, as though completely satisfied with whatever conclusion he'd reached, he turned back to his friends and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened at all.

you frowned.

"what on earth are you doing?" you murmured to yourself.

for the first time since the breakup, you realised something that made your stomach twist.

you understood jeno when he was loud.

you understood him when he was reckless.

you understood him when he was impossible.

this version of him—

quiet.

patient.

content to simply watch—

you had absolutely no idea what to do with.

you'd barely finished your second drink when someone called your name from behind.

turning around, you found a vaguely familiar face smiling at you.

"i knew that was you."

you frowned for a second before recognition finally clicked.

"sion?"

"thank god." he laughed, pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. "i was starting to think i'd have to pretend i wasn't talking to you."

you couldn't help smiling.

"sorry. you look different without a laptop in front of you."

"i'll choose to take that as a compliment."

"please don't."

he laughed again before leaning casually against the kitchen island beside you.

"i didn't know you knew the host."

"i don't."

"...that's reassuring."

"karina does."

"ah."

he nodded thoughtfully.

"that makes significantly more sense."

for the first time all evening, the conversation came easily.

sion was exactly how you remembered him from class—easygoing, a little awkward, and incapable of telling a story without getting distracted halfway through. he had a habit of laughing at his own jokes before reaching the punchline, which somehow made you laugh even harder.

"...and then i realised i'd been defending the wrong presentation for almost fifteen minutes."

you stared at him.

"you're kidding."

"i wish."

"what happened?"

"she just looked at me and said..." he lowered his voice into a painfully accurate impression of your lecturer. "'mr oh, while your confidence is admirable, this isn't your assignment.'"

you burst out laughing.

"no."

"yes."

"please tell me you're lying."

"i've never wanted to disappear more in my life."

you shook your head, still smiling.

"that's actually tragic."

"thank you. i needed someone to appreciate my suffering."

"i appreciate it immensely."

"good."

he pointed at you.

"because i'm still emotionally recovering."

your laughter faded into an easy smile.

it felt...

normal.

refreshingly so.

there were no rumours attached to sion. nobody lowered their voice when they said his name. nobody instinctively stepped aside when he walked into a room. talking to him didn't feel like standing next to a lit match.

it just felt easy.

"...can i ask you something?"

"sure."

"did you actually understand today's lecture?"

you groaned.

"don't even remind me."

"so that's a no."

"i understood maybe thirty percent of it."

"perfect."

he looked genuinely relieved.

"i was worried i was just stupid."

"i've got terrible news for you."

his face fell.

"what?"

"i understood thirty percent because i stopped listening after the first twenty minutes."

he stared at you for a second before laughing.

"okay, that's fair."

without thinking, he reached over and lightly nudged your arm.

"see? i knew talking to you would make me feel better."

the gesture barely registered.

it was casual.

friendly.

completely innocent.

but somewhere across the room—

jeno noticed.

his conversation stopped mid-sentence.

not long enough for his friends to notice.

just long enough for his eyes to drift toward the hand resting briefly against your arm.

his expression didn't change.

if anything, the smile remained exactly where it had been.

which, somehow, made it worse.

he watched as you laughed at something sion had said, tilting your head back the same way you always did when you found something genuinely funny.

he'd seen that laugh a hundred times.

he'd never realised how loud your laugh was until it belonged to someone else's conversation.

a sudden commotion near the entrance pulled you out of your thoughts.

heads turned almost instinctively.

someone had bumped into jeno.

it wasn't much. a shoulder clipping his arm as they squeezed through the crowd, enough to send a little of the drink in the boy's hand sloshing over the rim of the cup.

the first-year froze immediately.

"s-sorry."

you recognised him almost at once.

a first-year from the business faculty.

a few months ago, he'd accidentally spilled coffee over jeno's trainers outside one of the lecture halls. before you'd managed to step in, jeno had already grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard enough into the lockers to leave half the corridor staring. you still remembered the look on the poor boy's face when you'd pulled jeno away, somewhere between terrified and completely convinced he was about to die.

apparently he remembered too.

because instead of looking at jeno, the first-year's eyes darted straight to you.

almost instinctively.

like he was checking whether you were close enough to stop whatever came next.

jeno noticed. of course he noticed. his gaze flickered briefly toward you before settling back on the boy.

for a second, nobody moved. one of his friends had already gone quiet.

the people closest to them had taken a subtle step backwards.

everyone was waiting.

waiting to see which version of jeno had shown up tonight.

"watch where you're going," he said flatly.

"s-sorry, i didn't—"

"yeah."

another pause. the boy looked ready to apologise another five times.

instead, jeno jerked his chin toward the hallway.

"get lost."

the first-year blinked.

"...what?"

"you heard me."

the boy didn't need telling twice. he muttered another apology before practically disappearing into the crowd.

the people nearby exchanged confused glances before slowly returning to their own conversations, the tension dissolving almost as quickly as it'd appeared.

you couldn't stop staring.

that...

wasn't what you expected.

he caught your expression from across the room. one corner of his mouth lifted. almost like he already knew what you were thinking.

and somehow, that irritated you even more.

because a month ago, he would've thrown the first punch.

tonight, he'd simply let the boy walk away.

you weren't sure which version unsettled you more.

it irritated you enough that eventually you decided you needed air before you snapped.

without telling anyone, you slipped upstairs and climbed the narrow staircase leading to the rooftop terrace. the cool night breeze hit your skin immediately when you stepped outside, and you closed your eyes for a second in relief.

finally.

quiet.

the city lights stretched endlessly beneath the rooftop, glowing gold against the darkness. you walked toward the railing and rested your arms against it, trying to calm the frustration buzzing beneath your skin.

the rooftop door opened behind you less than a minute later.

you didn’t even turn around. you recognised the smell of that cologne anywhere, a custom mix of two different ones because jeno couldn't decide which one he liked better.

“you’re unbelievable,” you said flatly.

jeno shut the door behind him. “you disappeared.”

“i came upstairs for five seconds.”

“you left with no jacket.”

you laughed once under your breath and turned toward him. “you're fucking kidding me.”

his gaze moved over you again, slower this time, and it made your entire body tense in annoyance because even after everything, he still knew exactly how to look at you in a way that made you feel too aware of yourself.

“that dress is too short.”

“there it is.”

“you tryna get someone’s attention?”

“i wore it because i look good.”

“you do.”

the answer came immediately. it irritated you more than if he had insulted you.

you folded your arms. “what do you want?”

jeno walked closer until he stood only a few feet away from you. “to talk.”

“we’ve had this conversation already.”

“no, you talked. then you blocked me on everything.”

“because we broke up.”

his jaw tightened slightly.

“you keep saying that like i agreed to it.”

you stared at him in disbelief. “you don’t get to disagree with a breakup, jeno.”

“watch me.”

“oh my god.”

you pushed yourself off the railing. “this is exactly why i left you. you’re insane.”

his expression barely changed. “you still love me.”

“that’s not the point.”

“so you do.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t deny it either.”

you groaned in frustration and headed toward the rooftop door. “i’m done with this conversation.”

but the second you grabbed the handle and twisted, your expression changed.

the door didn’t move.

you frowned and pulled harder.

locked.

“what the hell?”

jeno walked over behind you slowly. too slowly.

you turned immediately. “did you do this?”

“what?”

“the door is locked.”

he reached past you and tested the handle himself with an annoyingly convincing look of confusion. “huh.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you are such a liar.”

“i didn’t lock it.”

“did you tell one of your idiot friends to do it?”

“no.”

a pause.

“jeno.”

“what? maybe it’s fate. you keep running away from me.”

“because i don’t want to talk to you.”

“you’re talking now.”

you shoved his shoulder hard, but he barely moved.

“you’re actually crazy.”

“and you’re still beautiful when you’re angry.”

you glared at him. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

the confidence in his voice made your blood boil because the worst part was that he genuinely believed it.

jeno leaned against the rooftop door casually while looking down at you, completely unbothered by the fact that you were seconds away from losing your temper.

“you’ve been avoiding me for a month.”

“thanks for stating the obvious.”

“you ignore my texts.”

“that’s the point.”

“you were real friendly with the guy downstairs."

you scoffed. “you mean the normal guy who doesn’t threaten people for fun?”

his eyes darkened instantly.

“was he funny?"

“oh my god, who cares?”

“i care.”

“well, stop.”

for the first time that night, something genuinely angry flashed across his face.

“you think i’m just supposed to watch you move on?”

“well yes.”

the answer came so quickly it stunned him into silence for a second.

and suddenly you could see it clearly — the exhaustion beneath his anger, the sleeplessness in his eyes, the way his hands flexed like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing you and pulling you against him like he used to.

“you really don’t give a shit anymore?” he asked quietly.

your chest tightened despite yourself.

because that wasn’t true.

that was the problem. for the first time tonight, jeno wasn't playing any games. for the first time ever since you broke up, he felt like you were truly gonna slip away from him for eternity.

“let’s talk baby,” he came closer to you, voice laced with a sense of nervousness that only you were able to tell.

“there’s nothing to talk about!”

“there is.” his hand caught your wrist, fingers circling, thumb pressing into your pulse point. “i fucked up. i know. but i’ve been losing my mind without you. every time i see you laughing with someone else, i want to rip them apart.. i’ll - fuck i’ll tone down the fighting, i’ll just -”

for the first time since you’ve dated each other, he was actually anxious.

“i don’t know how to say it right.” his voice cracked, just a little. he tugged you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry for the shit i did. but i can’t let you go. you’re it for me, princess. you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”

you wanted to stay angry. you wanted to push him away, scream, claw at him until he let you go. but your body betrayed you—the heat of him, the familiar weight of his hands, the way his thumb traced lazy circles on your wrist. a month of no contact, of pretending you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and now you were trembling.

“jeno.” it came out weak.

“let me show you.” his lips ghosted over your cheek. “let me prove i still know how to make you feel good. just tonight. then we can talk tomorrow. i’ll fix the door, i swear, but… let me have this.”

you should have said no. should have fought harder. but the cold air had seeped into your bones, and he was warm, and you were so fucking tired of pretending you didn’t want him. karina can lecture you about it later.

“you’re an asshole,” you whispered.

“yeah. your asshole.” he smiled, a real one, and it softened the hard lines of his face. then he kissed you. hard. hungry. his tongue slid against yours, and you melted into it, your hands fisting in his jacket. a month of denial crashed down, and you kissed him back like you were drowning.

he groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips through the thin fabric of your dress. “fuck, i missed you. missed this.” he bit your lower lip, tugging, and you gasped. his fingers found the hem of your dress, bunching it up until the cold air hit your thighs.

“jen, the door—someone could come up—“

“they won’t.” he pulled back, his eyes dark and serious. “i told jaemin to lock it and keep everyone away. gave us an hour.”

your breath caught. “you—you planned this?”

“had to get you alone somehow.” he kissed your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse. “you wouldn’t talk to me. you wouldn’t even look at me. this was the only way, princess. forgive me?”

you should have been furious. instead, you were wet. the audacity of it, the raw desperation—it turned you on more than you wanted to admit. you tilted your head back, giving him more access, and he took it, sucking a mark into your collarbone.

“i hate you,” you breathed.

“no, you don’t.” his hand slid between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re soaked, baby. you missed me too.”

you didn’t deny it. couldn’t. he hooked a finger under the lace, pulling it aside, and then his fingers were on you—calloused and rough, sliding through your slick folds. you bucked into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

“that’s it. let me hear you.” he found your clit, circling it with practiced precision, and your knees buckled. he caught you, guiding you back until you were pressed against the cold brick wall of the rooftop shed. “been thinking about this every night. jerking off to the memory of your pussy gripping my cock.”

“jeno—fuck—“

he pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you, and you cried out. his thumb kept working your clit, pressing hard, and he watched your face with that predatory intensity that always made you feel like prey—but in the best way. he curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“you’re so tight. so perfect.” he pumped his fingers, faster, deeper, the sound of your wetness obscene in the night air. “gonna make you come on my hand first. then i’m gonna bend you over this railing and fuck you until you remember who you belong to.”

you were close, the pressure coiling in your belly, but you weren’t ready to give in. “i don’t belong to anyone.”

“yeah, you do.” he pressed his thumb harder against your clit, and you screamed, your orgasm crashing through you. your walls clenched around his fingers, and he kept pumping, drawing it out until you were shaking and gasping against the wall.

“good girl.” he pulled his fingers out, sliding them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “taste so sweet.”

your dress was rucked up around your waist, your panties hanging uselessly off one hip. he pushed them down, letting them fall to the gravel. then he unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal loud in the silence. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum.

“turn around. bend over the railing.”

you hesitated for only a second. then you obeyed, gripping the cold metal, arching your back. "good fucking girl."

the dress rode up, exposing your bare ass. he moved behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock pressing against your wet entrance.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, the words rough and awkward. “for everything. i don’t know how to be the guy you deserve. but i’m trying. i’m trying, princess.”

then he pushed inside you, and all coherent thought dissolved. his teeth found the side of your neck and made his mark there before licking and sucking a hickey onto it.

he filled you completely, stretching you, the friction perfect. he gave you a moment to adjust, then pulled out and thrust back in, a steady rhythm that quickly grew frantic. his hand snaked around to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and you moaned into the night.

“fuck, you feel better than i remember.” he spanked your ass, the sharp sting making you clench around him. “look at you, taking my cock like a fucking dream. missed this pussy. missed your tight little cunt.”

he drove into you harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. the rooftop lights cast long shadows, and you could see the city below, oblivious to the raw, desperate sex happening above. the thought only made you wetter.

“jen, i’m gonna—“

“come for me, baby. come on my cock.” he pressed down on your clit, and you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a wave. he kept thrusting, chasing his own release, but you were too sensitive, bucking against him.

“wait—too much—“

“one more.” he slowed, but didn’t stop, grinding deep inside you. “come on, princess. you can give me one more. for me.”

he pulled out, and before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, lifting you up. your legs wrapped around his waist, your back hitting the wall again. he lined himself up into your gaping pussy and sank back into you, this time face to face.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, messy and desperate. he fucked you slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours, his forehead pressed against yours.

“i’m not good at words,” he whispered. “but i need you back. i need you, and i don’t care how much i have to change. i’ll burn the world down for you. just… come back to me.”

you couldn’t speak. the emotion in his voice—raw, broken, real—cracked something inside you. you kissed him, hard, and he groaned into your mouth, his thrusts becoming erratic. "this pussy was fucking made for me."

“i’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “gonna put my cum deep inside you, and you’re gonna walk around downstairs knowing you’re still mine.”

“yes,” you gasped. “do it—please—“

he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and you felt his hot release spill inside you, wave after wave. you came again, a smaller, shuddery orgasm, clenching around him as he pulsed inside you.

he held you there, both of you panting, sweat-slicked and trembling. he pulled out slowly, his cum dripping down your thigh. he caught it with his fingers, pressing it back inside, his eyes dark and possessive.

“you’re not leaving this rooftop until i hear you say you’ll try,” he said, voice husky. “even if we have to do this a few more times.”

you laughed, weak and breathless. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re mine.” he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “please, princess. say yes."

you looked at him—the fighting scars, the rough edges, the vulnerable flicker in his eyes—and you knew you were lost.

"come on, let's ditch this and go back so you can sit on my face.”

“fine. but you’re sleeping on the sofa for a month.”

he grinned, wide and boyish, and pulled you into another kiss. the door was still locked, but the night was young, and there was plenty of time to argue about the future. right now, you had his cum leaking down your thigh and his arms around you, and for the first time in a month, it felt like home.

"oh, and tell oh sion to fucking keep his hands to himself unless he wants it broken."

[yougotthatbilly]

helping hand

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: smut with the tiniest plot

→ word count: 7.5k

→ a/n: yikes i hope this lives up to the preview’s hype 😬

↳ summary: there are more pros when it comes to living with johnny 

or

johnny has a really big heart and an even bigger dick

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